What are you waiting for?

Luke 21:25-36

November 29, 2009

Preached by Rev. Trina Zelle

Do you remember the long wait for Christmas when you were a kid?  Starting about now?  It felt like forever, didn’t it? 

Back then, we busied ourselves during that excruciatingly slow wait with Christmas-themed coloring books, cookie decorating, and ornament making.  I still have one of the sequined angels I made when I was nine years old -- slightly tarnished but with a place of honor on our tree. 

And now here we are, hurtling through Advent towards Christmas 2009.   Yet another season of waiting.

What are you waiting for? A particular gift?  Family coming into town?   Anything? For it just to be over – too much hassle, too much history, too much baggage? 

It’s an unusual kind of holiday that way.  Brimming to overflowing with meaning and emotion. With memories and anticipation.

I remember the Christmas my brother and I got a puppy.  We were both in junior high – already somewhat cynical about the whole process – a good way to hide the ache of losing our grade school innocence.  But then our mother walked in the door carrying Charlie, a black, miniature poodle.  The Christmas magic came back and stayed with us that entire holiday season.

While patriotism may be the last refuge of scoundrels, animals – baby animals – are the default gift of the desperate. I’m sure my mother would agree.  Because when it comes to that initial thrill, nothing beats a cute puppy or kitten. In fact, no matter how unattractive the adults of a particular species might be, I would argue that all babies in the animal kingdom are cute.  Baby rhinoceroses, baby alligators, maybe even baby tarantulas. Certainly baby deer.  With the possible exception of baby rabbits – at birth they look like pencil erasers. Other than rabbits – and probably baby snakes, Mother Nature uses looks to ensure that the world’s young will be cared for. 

Unfortunately, the very thing that guarantees the preservation of every species – a friend of mine calls it survival of the cutest -- tends to translate into disastrous Christmas presents – my mother’s stroke of genius notwithstanding.  The cute puppy you just couldn’t resist rescuing from the pound and putting under the tree loses some of its cuteness as the demands start coming. And they start immediately.  From whining for food to needing to answer nature’s call.  And no matter what the “Caring for Your Labrador Retriever Puppy” instruction book might tell you, an alarm clock wrapped in a towel is no substitute for a mother Lab’s heartbeat.  Or yours.  Get ready for many nights of howling. And, no matter how fervent their promises to the contrary, your children will not get up to see what’s wrong. You will. But we already know that, don’t we?

Perhaps even worse than needing lots of attention is the way cute babies grow up to be adult what-evers – you name the species.  And again, no matter what the species might be, adults tend not to be cute.  Overall, that’s probably a good thing.  Cute might evoke nurturing behavior, but it doesn’t command much respect. And in the adult world, respect gets a lot more mileage than cute, even though most of us continue to have a weakness for it.

I think this cuteness factor might also have something to do with the endless tape loop of excess that Christmas has become.  Without the “rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would say, the story of Christmas gets stuck in a limited time frame with enormous potential for cuteness overdose.  The angel’s announcement to Mary, the journey to Bethlehem, the baby’s birth in a barn, the angels, the wise men.

It’s an appealing story employing Mother Nature’s best work: a helpless infant.  Even non-believers find themselves drawn, year after year, to  religious observances, from midnight communion by candlelight to simple pageants with an elementary school aged Mary, and kindergarten lambs.

But that’s just the beginning of the Christmas story.  The first chapter.  The rest of it, the part we usually ignore, propels us right out of that cozy manger scene and into the future -- towards the end of the world. Towards judgement. Just as those adorable lion cubs from TV nature specials grow into fearsome adults, Christmas marks the beginning of a perilous journey for the one whose birth we celebrate.  The infant Jesus doesn’t get to stay an infant for very long.  Before we’ve even put away the Christmas decorations, he and his parents have had to abandon their home and take refuge in Egypt.  While we’re all stuck at his infancy, the powers that be are already recognizing Jesus’ potential for disruption.  And so he begins his journey to adulthood, to completion, to fulfillment, which for him, means a close acquaintance with suffering, and a cruel death. 

That’s why we’re here – on the planet I mean, as well as in this room  – to move towards the same kind of completion.  Not only us, but the world we live in.  All of creation.  Towards what scripture calls perfection. Into the future, towards God.  Each new day brings it closer.  As people of faith, we should know that this is what God’s time is all about.  Creation’s slow ripening towards its final moment of fulfillment where God waits with open arms. 

But even though that might sound poetic, maybe even appealing, how many of us are really interested in taking a journey like that.  How many of us are not only willing, but excited about getting involved in the process called discipleship, that would compel us to leave our old lives behind and live into new ones? How many of us are, not only willing, but excited to grow in painful and dangerous ways the way Jesus did.  Or is our desire for God limited to the infant of Christmas?

That’s why it’s so important that we read Jesus’ words from the end of his life on this first Sunday in Advent, rather than start with events leading up to his birth.  Because his end is why the beginning is there at all. The only purpose.  His end is the reason we celebrate his beginning.  So, unlike most narratives, where we start at the beginning to gain insight into the character of the protagonist, the gospel narrative needs to be understood through the lens of its end point.  It’s not light of the star that guides us to Jesus, but the shadow of the cross. It is the end of creation that will fully reveal its purpose.

Which will be when?  There have been a lot of convoluted explanations about what Jesus really means when he predicts that he will return before “this generation” has passed -- as well as the obvious one.  Maybe he just got it wrong.  He thinks he’s going to be coming back sooner than he evidently really is. 

That’s because we tend to think of a generation as a specific time frame that describes the amount of time it takes a family to go from parent to child to grandchild -- around forty years.  But there are other understandings of what constitutes a generation.  It’s also used to describe a time of indeterminate length that exhibits a particular quality such as suffering or waiting or witnessing.

For example, during the barren time extending from the last words of the last Old Testament prophet, until this time of Roman occupation, the people of Israel had waited.  They believed that their own sinfulness had led to the extinguishing of God’s Spirit.  That, in disgust, God had finally abandoned them.  And so they waited.  Faithfully.  Hoping that their faithful waiting would persuade God to return.  A generation of waiting that lasted some four hundred years.  It’s what they felt they were called to do. 

And so while not everyone recognized the significance of what Jesus said in his first sermon –  the ones who tried to kill him most certainly did.  Remember that whole drama?  It wasn’t in today’s readings so let me refresh your memories.  Shortly after Jesus first calls his disciples together, he is invited to read scripture and preach in his home town synagogue.  And so he reads from the day’s assigned reading: “the Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” And, putting down the scrolls he says, ‘today these words of scripture have been fulfilled’.’  By saying this, Jesus is claiming that God’s spirit – not witnessed for 400 years, is returning to Israel, and the world, through him.  

And so the generation of the Spirit began – and it continues to this day.  Which means that when we respond to Jesus’ call to “go out into all the world,…” we are connecting ourselves with those first followers of his, becoming part of a generation that spans back to the disciples and forward to God only knows when.  Really.

“This generation will not pass away, until I return.”  Not so much a promise that Jesus will be right back as an instruction to keep doing what we’re doing until instructed otherwise. 

And what is it exactly that we’re doing – or should be?  Because in the light of the bigger picture, it’s no longer a simple question of moving beyond the nativity scene towards spiritual maturity but a more difficult one.  Are we willing to share our reasons for doing so with others. Are we willing to encourage them to do the same.  Because if we make this spiritual journey a private one, we will have missed the point. No one should visit the manger alone.  No one who visits it should stay there for very long.  And once we leave, it’s not OK to keep the news to ourselves.  The shepherds sure didn’t.

I think I know what some of you might be thinking, because it’s occurred to me too.  Other followers of Jesus have given evangelism a bad name.  Real bad.  And, it’s human nature to be more interested in the shortcomings of others rather than our own.  But even though there are serious flaws in the way some of our brothers and sisters in Christ are choosing to share the good news – to the point that it’s sometimes hard to see what’s good about it – that doesn’t let us off the hook.  After all, just because your obnoxious neighbors brag about their son being a great doctor, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t go see him, if he really is a recognized expert in the specialty you need.  Or, put another way, would someone else missing the whole point of a book you love, keep you from wanting to read it again?  Or recommending it?  But that’s what we do, when we keep quiet about what we claim to organize our lives around.

Or, is the real problem something else?  Do we really organize our lives around the good news Jesus brought and embodied, or does our faith fall more under the category of civic duty or enrichment.  I vote, subscribe to the symphony, and follow Jesus.  Sort of.   

It’s not something to answer right away.  Rather, take some time to think back on what has brought you to this point.  This is what Advent is for.  Self-examination.  Reflection. Being honest but gentle with ourselves – and others. 

And it’s important to remember that we’re all on this journey from Bethlehem together -- from then until now and into the future. Before the day even arrives, Jesus is calling us to move beyond Christmas with its angels and awe, into the grit of daily life.  To join with our generation of fellow believers.  So we need to be patient with each other and ourselves.  To follow a path lit by God’s love incarnate. What other light do we really need?  Amen.