First Advent 2012
Yesterday’s snowfall was a good way to usher in the new liturgical year and
the Advent season. When I asked people at the 4 pm liturgy what they felt
when they saw the snow falling, there were two dominant reactions. Some
were filled with joy and delight. This gentle snowfall brought the promise of
more snow with the possibilities of play from skiing to snow angels to
simply contemplating the beauty of fresh snow blanketing the earth. Others
were filled with anxiety, even if they knew that this snow would not amount
to much. It was a harbinger of snowfalls to come. “Oh no, snow. What a
mess, shoveling, icy roads, winter’s on its way.” One gentleman on leaving
the church said: “Father, I hate snow.” I asked him, “did you ever like
snow?” “I guess, when I was a child,” he responded. Here were two very
different reactions to the same snowfall. Joyful anticipation for some,
anxiety and even dread for others.
That mixture of joyful anticipation, anxiety and even dread does somehow
capture the feel of this Advent season. The first Sunday of Advent begins
with a gospel that is meant to produce great anxiety. It speaks of the end of
time, the end of the world, the final cataclysm. It is ironic that we begin the
new year with a scripture that reminds us that it’s all going to end. Time as
we know it will come to a stand still. And that is why we stand still, at
attention, waiting for the Lord’s coming. That is why we must not be lulled
into complacency. The first Sunday of Advent is always the same call to
rouse ourselves from sleep, pay attention, and stand erect. Something is
happening. Someone’s coming. To paraphrase that “edgy” Christmas carol
which is meant to frighten children into being “good”:
You’d better watch out, better not doze,
Better be ready, the time no one knows
When Jesus Christ is coming to town
He’s making a list checking it twice
Already knows who’s haughty or nice
Jesus Christ is coming to town
You’d better not be sleeping; you’d better be awake
He wants you to be good not bad, so be good for Jesus’ sake
You’d better watch out, better not doze,
Better be ready, the time no one knows
When Jesus Christ is coming to town.
But if the advent season sounds a minor chord of “beware” of what’s
coming, its dominant key is “behold.” Behold the days are coming when I
will fulfill the promise I made. Behold I am with you even now as you learn
to grow in love. Behold the child, born of Mary, God with us. In the midst of
anxiety about our world and all the bad news that abounds, we are called to
“wait in joyful hope” for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Do you remember not too long ago, a year ago in fact, when you heard this
“prayer” inserted into the Our Father (the embolism):
Deliver us Lord from every evil and grant us peace in our days. In your
mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in
joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. (the new translation
of “Blessed hope” doesn’t have the same “edge” to it.)
That’s the invitation we have at the beginning of this Advent season. We are
invited to “wait in joyful hope.” Yes, we know there are so many reasons
for living “joylessly and hopelessly”. You can make a list and check it twice
and that list can go on and on. But if God really is faithful and has shown
that faithfulness to us in Jesus Christ, aren’t there as many reasons for
“waiting in joyful hope”? Only you can answer that.
So where do you stand today? Are you standing at attention, preparing
yourself for the in-breaking of God into your human existence in ways
surprising and unexpected? Are you “on edge” waiting with joyful hope and
anticipation, trusting that God will be there for you and your loved ones and
for our world? Are you standing erect watching and waiting for the signs
that God does make a difference, healing and helping us to be a source of
reconciling peace and joy in our world?
There is a choice. We can choose to “wait in joyful hope,” knowing that we
live in a world that is anything but joyful and hopeful, where sin and hate
and violence are woven into the fabric of life. We can choose to trust that
God’s faithfulness will show itself again and again in wonderfully surprising
ways, like a gentle snowfall.
Honestly, part of me wants to say “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow” and
the other part says “oh no, not snow.” Let’s just wait in joyful hope.