Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Stay awake! December 3, 2017 The Rev. David M. Stoddart


Mark 13:24-37
1 Advent

The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. Strange and disturbing stuff, this apocalyptic imagery. I vividly recall my first encounter with it. It didn’t come in church or in a seminary classroom. It happened when I was young boy in a movie theater, courtesy of Walt Disney, and with the title “Sleeping Beauty.” Do any of you remember seeing that movie? Princess Aurora has a curse put on her by the evil sorceress Maleficent so that when she pricks her finger on a spindle she falls into a deep sleep and can only be awakened by the kiss of true love. While she lies in this enchanted sleep, Prince Phillip is determined to rescue her. But he is imprisoned in the dungeon of Maleficent’s castle, seemingly doomed until three good fairies release him and arm him with the sword of truth and the shield of virtue. With their help he fights through hordes of demonic creatures, a dark forest of brambles, and a terrible storm, until Maleficent herself appears before him in a burst of flame and cries out, “Now shall you deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of hell!”  — mind you, this is considered a children’s movie —and at that point she transforms herself into a huge dragon, and the prince is almost overcome but hurls his sword through the lurid sky with the words, “O sword of truth, fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure.” The sword then plunges into the dragon’s breast, and the beast perishes in a great flurry of fire and smoke. And then the sun comes out, the prince awakens Aurora with a kiss, and they all live happily ever after.

Well, “they” did not include me: I don’t think I slept well for a week afterwards. Like the “Night on Bald Mountain” sequence in Fantasia and the sea witch story in The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty is pure apocalypse. It has all the elements we find in Scripture: storm and darkness, struggle and suffering, heavy symbolism, cataclysmic events, supernatural intervention, the temporary triumph of evil, the ultimate victory of good. I couldn’t have explicated all that as a kid, of course, but even then I got the message: this world can be a terrifying place, but love always wins in the end.

If you get that, then you understand the basics of apocalyptic thought. It was a form of religious literature that was very popular in the century or two before and after Jesus’ earthly life — the book of Revelation being the most famous example — and it was custom designed for turbulent times. As frightening and forbidding as it seems to us, the basic message was one of hope: when the world seems to be imploding, even when the world is actually ending and the forces of evil and chaos seem triumphant, even then God is God and love will prevail. It’s easy to believe that when the sky is blue, our stomachs are full, and are children are safe, but it is when life is tragic and awful that we most need to believe it. Scratched on a wall of German concentration camp during World War II were these words:

            I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
            I believe in love, even when I don’t feel it.
            I believe in God, even when he is silent.

Apocalyptic language in the Bible, like we find in our Gospel today, affirms in the most graphic and dramatic way possible that the sun will shine again, God will not be silent, and love will win.

And that is how we begin the season of Advent which, despite popular belief, is not primarily about getting ready for Christmas. Our preparation to celebrate the first coming of Jesus at Bethlehem gives us an opportunity to prepare for the continued coming of Jesus in our daily lives and the final coming of Jesus at the end of our lives, and the end of all time. And this season takes place in the darkest month of the year and always begins with an apocalyptic Gospel passage, giving us a stark reminder that it is when life is dark that we most need Christ to come.

And since Jesus does come, the great message on this first Sunday of Advent is: Stay awake! — don’t miss him when he comes, and don’t forget that he often comes in the toughest moments. I was in the hospital a couple months ago visiting someone who is not a parishioner but has a connection with our parish. She was very sick, with some serious medical issues going on, and she was not expecting a visit from me. But it was grace-filled: we talked, I anointed her and prayed for her, and she ended up in tears, good tears. It was not because I did anything special, but she was vulnerable enough and I was awake enough for the Spirit to move, and the Spirit moved. As I was leaving, she said, “I will never forget this.” What I will never forget is that Jesus came to that hospital room that day.

I shudder to think how many times I have been asleep and missed him, but my experience and the experience of others has taught me that Christ is coming to us all the time. So before we jump into all the frantic activity of December, before we get all caught up in gifts and parties and pre-Christmas chaos, I urge you to stay awake. Any Advent practices, like reading devotionals and lighting wreaths, only matter to the extent that they keep us alert to the coming of Jesus. And as we stay focused on that, I think two things are particularly important. First, in light of today’s Gospel, pay special attention to the “apocalyptic” moments in your life, the moments of sickness, pain, fear, and despair because those are so often the times when Christ comes. And second, remember that he not only comes to us: he comes through us. This week, you may well be Jesus to someone else: the Spirit of Christ may come through you to bless another person. It has nothing to do with being deserving or holy: it has everything to do with being willing and awake. So wake up. After all, if we want to greet him with joy when he comes on the Last Day, we best begin by recognizing him when he comes on this day. Our Prayer Book funeral liturgy, quoting Job, puts it beautifully:

            As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives
            And that at the last day he will stand upon the earth.
            After my awaking, he will raise me up;
            and in my body I shall see God.
            I myself shall see him, and my eyes behold him
            Who is my friend and not a stranger.


So be it for all of us. Amen.

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