Our season of waiting and expectation is almost done. The final Sunday of Advent. The final Sunday before Christmas. The next time we gather together, it will be to celebrate the birth of Christ. We gather at Christmas to celebrate God coming into the world, tearing down the ultimate barrier between us. But we’ll get to that next time.
Today, we continue to think about what it is that we are waiting for. What is it that we are hoping for? What does God coming into the world mean to us?
Our readings for today paint a certain picture for us (see Micah 5:2-5a and Luke 1:39-55). In today’s readings, we see God choosing the least likely. Our readings show God choosing those who would be considered weak, outcast, marginalized as those most deserving of honor. Our readings show God giving preferential treatment to those most in need. Our readings show us that God does not choose the ones that our culture tends to tell us we are supposed to value.
Advent is a season of many themes and many layers. We know that Advent is our season of expectation and waiting for the in-breaking of God in our lives and in our world. For those of us who feel assured in our faith, this can be a season of excitement as we experience the familiar stories, the memories of holiday seasons past, and the joy of lights and decorations and gatherings. We await with anticipation the baby in the manger and the goodness that means for our world.
At the same time, there are those on the margins, those who feel less certain about their faith, those who feel less certain about their lives, their ability to make it to the next paycheck, the likelihood they will see another day. Where is the joy of the season for those who are oppressed, forced to the margins, and living in precarious circumstances?
On this first Sunday of Advent, we begin our journey toward Christmas. Advent is our period of waiting and expectation for Jesus to come into the world. Jesus comes into the world as a liberator, showing a new kingdom. The kingdom of God is not like the world as we know it. But it is not in some distant future, and it is not in some far-off land.
We kick the season off with hope -- hope for all that God has done and all that God continues to do. Our readings on this Sunday help us see that our hope is not only for the future; our hope is rooted in the present, in the very places we find ourselves (see Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25:1-10; Luke 21:25-36).
We enter the season of waiting and expectation at the end of a long year. For many of us, Advent feels more real this year. We are waiting. We are longing. We are hoping.
Thankfully, we can look to those who came before for signs of hope, even in the most difficult times. Today, we look to Isaiah 64 (Isaiah 64:1-9) as we consider what hope looks like in the midst of difficult times.
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I preached for the first time in a church 18 years ago on the First Sunday of Advent. I was in the middle of my second year of seminary, and I had been attending worship in the congregation for almost a year at that point. I don’t really remember anything about that Sunday. I remember I was nervous, but I don’t have any specific memories of the first time I stepped into the pulpit.
Oddly, what I remember is preparing the sermon. I remember being asked in early November if I would preach the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I remember seeing it would be the first Sunday of Advent. I remember thinking, “Oh, I guess there will be a reading from one of the prophets and something from early in one of the gospels.” And I remember being surprised to discover that the gospel reading from the First Sunday of Advent came instead from the end of the gospel. Instead of focusing on the coming Christ child, the readings on this First Sunday of the season look instead to the second coming of Christ.
The reason for this is that Advent is a season with a dual purpose. It is a season of expectation and preparation. In these four Sundays before we celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas, it is easy for us to remember the initial coming of Jesus into the world. Over the next three Sundays, our primary focus is on the initial arrival of the Son of God into the world.
But on this first Sunday, we are reminded of all which that coming means. We are reminded of the ultimate fulfillment of Jesus’ teachings. We are reminded of the kingdom that he was bringing into being. We are reminded of his return in glory to reign over that realm that is still becoming.
Advent is a time for us to intentionally anticipate the coming kingdom. It is a time for us to intentionally look forward to God breaking into this world to change it for the better. Yes, that started with the foretold baby born 2000 years ago. But it is also something we are still looking toward. It is something we are still expecting, still anticipating. Something that was coming and is still coming into being.
Advent is about both the coming Messiah that the Hebrew people were awaiting and it is about the ultimate fulfillment of all that Jesus showed us -- something that we are still awaiting today.
This waiting, this anticipation, is an act of hope. When they looked back at the history of God’s involvement with Israel, the prophets saw how God’s promises were always fulfilled. And so they were able to look into the future with hope, even in the midst of difficult times.
Following in their footsteps, we are able to look at the future with hope for the same reasons. We have heard the words of Jesus. We have felt the effect of his teaching and example in our own lives. We have seen enough to know that God’s promises are fulfilled.
Looking at Isaiah today, we get a sense of this note of hope even in the midst of a time of anxiety and uncertainty. Our reading opens with the words, “If only you would tear open the heavens and come down!” (Isaiah 64:1a, CEB) Likely written during a time of exile, the Hebrew people are looking for salvation. They feel forgotten or even punished by God, carried to another land against their will. In the midst of their suffering it would be easy to despair.
But Isaiah knows where their salvation will come from. God has promised not to forget them or forsake them. The history of God’s relationship with the Hebrew people bears this out. “From ancient times, no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any god but you who acts on behalf of those who wait for him!” (Isaiah 64:4, CEB) The Hebrew people are God’s people. God has always acted on their behalf. Even in times of chaos and uncertainty, the people of God have nothing to fear.
After the time of exile during which Isaiah was writing, the people did return to the land that had been promised to them. Over the years, their fortunes ebbed and flowed until they came under Roman rule. The people again looked to the prophets to understand what was happening and to give them hope for the future.
Into this world of longing and need, Jesus appeared. Jesus came as fulfillment of the words of the prophets, fulfillment of God’s promise of salvation. Jesus brings hope into the world, even as it is a hope that comes in an unexpected form. Jesus was not born in a palace. He did not wield military might. He did not rule through subjugation or violence.
Jesus came to offer hope. He came to show that there are other ways of living in relationship with one another than through power and dominance. He came to teach a different way of being in the world together that does not require competition or winners and losers. He came into the world and taught us that the first rule is love.
And then he asked his followers to continue the work that he started. He taught them what the kingdom to come would look like and asked them to live in that world as if it were already here. At the same time that Jesus brought hope to his followers, he asked them to bring hope to others.
As many of you know, I am a big fan of the Star Wars movies. The original movie blew me away when I was a kid, and it has continued to be a touchstone for me. Partly it is the story of good versus evil. Partly it is the story of someone of low means rising to bring down insurmountable odds.
In recent years, more stories have been told from this galaxy far, far away. One of the best of the newer movies was one called Rogue One. The setting for this movie is in the days leading up to the beginning of that movie I have watched over and over for years. It tells the story of a young woman who leads the attempt to steal the plans for the Empire’s superweapon, the Death Star.
Throughout the movie, this woman, Jyn Erso, speaks of the need for hope in the face of the Empire’s cruelty. Considering she watched agents of the Empire kill her mother and kidnap her father when she was a small girl, she knows better than most what they are capable of. But even in the midst of that, she speaks words of hope. She leads a team on an impossible mission because people need hope. She transmits a signal without knowing if anyone is receiving it because the people need hope. Her small team is like David standing before the Goliath of the Empire, and in seeing her defiance, she gives hope to others.
The Israelites under Roman rule knew what it was to live in subjugation to an empire. They knew about brutality. They knew about rule through violence and fear. Still they looked with hope to the promises of God, to the one who would come to offer them salvation.
They looked for the Messiah spoken of in the prophets.
Today, we look not for the promised Messiah. Jesus has already come. But we still look forward with hope for the ultimate fulfillment of all that has been promised.
We are not ourselves Hebrews, but we can find hope in the words of Isaiah as well. Speaking to God, Isaiah says that “All of us are the work of your hand!” (Isaiah 64:8c, CEB) All of us are included in God’s promise of salvation. All of us are included in the salvation offered through Jesus. All of us are included in that hope.
All of us in this room watch with hope as we enter this season. Over the course of this year, we have sat in chaos and uncertainty. And so we wait with hope for the ultimate fulfillment of God’s kingdom here on earth.
At the same time, we remember that those promises are for all of us. All of us are the work of God’s hands. That includes those not in this room as well.
Just as Jesus offers us hope, we must offer hope to others. I look at the ways the congregation I am currently serving has stepped up to provide food at Thanksgiving and gifts for the coming holiday. Many other congregations do an Angel Tree during Advent. Those acts provide hope to people that may otherwise feel hopeless and uncared for. They are acts of love that provide hope for people in need.
As we continue through this season, we will continue to reflect on the many gifts we anticipate during the season. After all, this is part of the celebration of Advent -- waiting with anticipation for the gift that is Jesus.
At the same time, we will also reflect on our call to continue to offer those gifts to others. How do we continue to offer the gifts we receive to the world around us? How do we continue to offer the gifts of hope, peace, joy, love, and grace?
In keeping with this theme, our song of reflection today comes from the United Methodist Hymnal. Perhaps some of you are familiar with it. “What Gift Can We Bring” is a reminder of the grace we have received from God and from others and our call to continue to offer that same gift to others. It is also a song of hope that remembers the acts of hope made by those who came before and the acts of hope we continue to participate in today.
As noted before, I approached Advent and Christmas this year with the hymn "What Gift Can We Bring" in the back of my head. As I thought about the gift that God gives to us in Jesus, I began to think about our calling as the body of Christ to continue to offer that same gift to the world. Using traditional Advent themes as well as the stories of the Christmas season, I continue to reflect on the gifts that we are meant to bring to the world.
On the third Sunday of Advent, we celebrate the gift of joy. Using the Magnificat (Luke 1:47-55), Mary's song in response to the news that she will be the mother of God-with-us, we reflect on a joy that is not for ourselves alone, but a joy that is meant for all peoples in all times and places.
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Mary’s song is one of my favorite gifts here in the first chapter of Luke. Mary has been visited by the angel who has told her that she has been chosen to be the mother of the Son of God. Even in the approach of the angel, we see the first inkling of Mary’s strength and wisdom.
Before she hears anything else, she ponders the angel’s greeting. She is obviously aware of the holy texts. She knows that angels don’t just show up to random people. There is a reason this angel has shown up to her. She has been chosen for something. And she likely has some idea of how difficult that task will be based on the history of her people. And she is perplexed because she can't believe she would be chosen for anything important.
Inspired by the hymn, "What Gift Can We Bring," I continue to reflect on our call as Christians to continue to offer the gift of Jesus to the world. As we travel through Advent and Christmas and consider the gift that God has given us in Jesus, how do we continue to offer those gifts to the world?
For the second Sunday of Advent, we frequently pair John the Baptist with the theme of Hope. This year, we read the story from the Gospel of Matthew (see Matthew 3:1-12) as we weigh the connection between judgement and hope.
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On the second Sunday of Advent, we often hear from the prophets and from John the Baptist. And because of the ones who are speaking we often hear words of judgement. So it may at first seem ironic that the second Sunday of Advent is often the Sunday of Hope.
This is especially true when we look at John the Baptist. He is out in the wilderness preaching the coming of God’s kingdom. He is wearing clothes made of camel’s hair and eating locusts. I imagine he was also rather unkempt and dirty. Chances are he would be run out of any church he happened to wander into today.
I was inspired this summer by a question asking how we can better connect the call to love God and others that has been central to worship here with the needs of our local community. It got me thinking about the Advent and Christmas seasons when we focus our attention on the gift of Jesus.
Inspired by the hymn, What Gift Can We Bring, and this question related to the mission of the church, I asked myself the question, how are we, as the body of Christ, still a gift to the world today? This inspired me to flip my focus in Advent this year. Rather than simply looking forward with expectation to the gift that God has given to us, I began to wonder how we as the church continue to make those gifts visible still today.
Drawing on the traditional themes of Advent (Peace, Hope, Joy, and Love) and the themes of Grace and Faith present in the season of Christmas, we will reflect this season on how we as the body of Christ continue to make these gifts known in our communities. On this first Sunday of Advent, we use the prophet Isaiah (see Isaiah 2:1-5) to help us reflect on the gift of God's peace.
This past Sunday many of us heard Mary's subversive song of joy. Here is my reflection on Luke 1:29-55 preached at Bright Star UMC.
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Today we celebrate the fourth and final Sunday of Advent. Our time of preparation and expectation is drawing to a close as we prepare to welcome the Christ into the world. Over the last few Sundays, we have heard from the prophets and from the Gospels about the coming of Christ into the world.
But we aren’t quite there yet.
We are still watching and waiting.
We are still hoping.
Just as the Israelites in the time of the prophets, we are looking for our salvation.
In anticipation of the new Star Wars movie, I decided to rewatch much of the previous saga. I say much because even though I tried to watch the prequels I just couldn't finish them. So I gave up on the prequels and jumped into Rogue One.
Now for me, Star Wars has always been space fantasy and not strictly sci fi. Star Trek is sci fi. Star Wars is wizards in space. If you think about the differences in the films, hopefully the distinction will be clear.
What this also means is that as much as I enjoyed Rogue One, it did not fill me with the same sense of awe as watching Star Wars when I was a kid. It is too gritty, too real. It inhabits the same universe, but it is a war movie in space, not wizards in space (except for the parts that were, which were my favorites scenes). The parts related to faith and the mystical, while present, were secondary to the story-telling even as much as they were primary for many of the characters.