Advent: The Sacrament of the Coming of God
Advent 1C
Luke 21:25-36
Nov. 29, 2009
Jim Melnyk
Let me begin by wishing you all “Happy New Year!” Most of the world doesn't know what we know – that with the beginning of Advent comes a new church year. Perhaps a good time to make some resolutions!
        
I've spent a lot of time over the past couple of weeks watching the leaves falling in our yard. I'll admit that most of the time I grumbled and griped as my busy schedule and the desire to enjoy some free time allowed them to keep piling up. But I kept thinking about all those leaves – about having to rake them and not enough time in the world to do it – at least not enough time to do it and still enjoy some time to play. I even thought about hiring someone to come in and rake them for me – just to give me a little extra time and to avoid doing the work myself. But then Lorraine and I got antsy about them sitting out there – blanketing some new grass planted earlier this fall – and somewhere in the back of our heads we realized we needed to get out and care for that little part of creation that Lorraine and I share. And so, we gave some time to the leaves – which, by the way, are all back!

As we swept and raked, a new reality dawned upon me. I began to sense a Sacramental reality – and outward and visible sign of God's blessing – a sacramental reality in autumn's leaves falling to the ground. The leaves spoke to me of the need for the earth and its creatures to rest – to lie dormant for a season to find the energy and the strength needed to break forth into new life each spring. And afterward, as I continued my readings for this sermon, I came across a passage by Madeleine L'Engle: “Winter is a paradox,” she writes, “the fullness of death and life…. Winter is the quiet, fallow time when the earth prepares for rebirth” (Synthesis, Nov. 30, 2003, p. 3). The falling leaves signal that winter is near – they remind us to prepare – to prepare for that fallow time that anticipates new birth.

Falling leaves are sacraments of waiting. They are sacraments of anticipation. They are sacraments of hope. The falling leaves are sacraments that call us to pay attention – to wait and to watch for the newness of life about to break into our lives. Falling leaves can remind us that God is indeed working God's purpose out as season succeeds to season – as year succeeds to year (The Hymnal 1982, 534). The leaves are signs of God's presence and God's promise of new life – perhaps an apt sacrament for our life together at St. Mark's as you and I each move toward new realities in our respective journeys of faith.

In today's Gospel lesson the disciples have been seeking a sign of the surety of God's presence in their lives. They are seeking some kind of sign that Jesus will fulfill their hopes and dreams by bringing about a new reality in the world around them. They've spent as much as three years of their lives following Jesus, hoping he would be the one to free Israel from Roman tyranny, and yet Rome appears more and more powerful with each step they take. Their hearts seek a sign to help them make sense of all that's happening – a sign – perhaps what we might call a sacramental glimpse – that will tell them that God's reign, the kingdom Jesus has spoken about so powerfully, is real and is really coming to them. There's a sense of desperation in the disciples' need to make sense of it all – especially when each word uttered by their master and friend seems to bring him one step closer to Rome's favorite version of the gallows. Unless things take a drastic turn for the better, the disciples know Jesus will soon be taken away. “How can we know all that you've said is true? And how will we know when it's about to happen,” they ask.
        
Jesus paints for them an apocalyptic picture of a world torn asunder as a new creation is brought to life. A day will come when everything we know, or think we know, will change. It will be a day of terror and of awe as the universe is made new. And ever since these words were first spoken, and ever since they were first written down, followers of Jesus have tried to figure out what it all means – and have tried to figure out an exact time table for its culmination.         

It's an easy trap to fall into, isn't it? The picture Jesus paints for us is so vivid, so overwhelming, it's hard – perhaps not for many of us, but for some – to put it down and pay attention to the hue and cry that fills creation today. For some it feels like pure fantasy and easy to ignore. Or maybe for some Christians it's easier, or seemingly safer, to seek out answers to tomorrow's questions and the glory of a conquering, cosmic Christ, rather than deal with the apocalyptic realities of today – or the power God has given us in Christ to make the world new today.
        
In the end modern folk are really no different from the disciples. In the midst of a world that seems more and more confusing and dangerous every day, we seek some kind of sign that tells us Christ is still present – that the reign of God foretold so long ago is real. People around the world wonder what the close of this decade will bring in the coming year – what hope, what promise, what new dangers and fears.... Too many modern-day Christians spend too much time pointing out devils and christs as they see them, and not a whole lot of time wondering how Jesus, as the Christ of God, would respond to the painful and often life-threatening realities that beset us: questions surrounding war and terror, questions about healthcare and the fear of H1N1, concerns about crime and high finance – or is that high crimes and finance – and can we even tell the difference between those last two?
        
Jesus never lived in the future, my friends. He didn't get caught up in tomorrows even he couldn't foretell. For Jesus, the culmination of God's reign was already breaking upon the world – and it continues to do so today! The fullness of God's dream for humanity began before creation cried out with the first pangs of birth. From the very beginning of creation and humanity's struggle with freedom, through Jeremiah's proclamation to a nation beset with exile – from Jesus teaching in the Temple days before his death, through our modern-day struggles to live out our baptismal calling of love for God and love for neighbor, God has been, and is making, creation new. From humanity's first breath to our last, God will be working in and through us to make God's dream for creation real – a “time that shall surely be, when the earth shall be filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea” (Hymn 534).
        
This is the reality present for Jesus as he taught his disciples – the dream of God for this world. This is the reality made present for us in the power of God's Holy Spirit given to us in baptism and strengthened in us each time we come to this Holy Table and each time we seek Christ's presence in our hearts and in the hearts of those around us – the dream of God for this world.
        
For all the wonder, awe and spell-binding special effects of the cataclysmic end-times Jesus spoke about, Jesus still knew that humanity cannot escape the reality of now. We live real lives in real-time, and so our focus must always be on the world around us. The parable of the fig tree brings us back to earth, back to the every-dayness of our lives and the promise of God's reign being made real now – today – in our lives and in the world around us – as we live out our calling to be followers of Jesus Christ.
        
As sure as the trees sprout leaves (or drop them as the case may be) – or as sure as we will find our lives and our ministries in the midst of transition – the reign of God comes upon us and the dream of God enfolds us. And for those of us who seek a sign of God's promise for new life, we only need open our eyes and our hearts to the Spirit of God as it moves among God's people. The stories we read and tell in Advent are not mere memories of days gone by, or crystal balls to be used for divining the future. These are stories to that tell us how to live in the present – how to recognize and live into the kingdom of God which is now even as it always was and is yet to come.
        
We are asked to take a deep breath and sense the coming of God in Christ Jesus – in the manger – in some future glory – but most importantly, in our hearts and in the heart of the world today. To feel the power of Christ that makes God's love real for us today.
        
As autumn's leaves fall, we are given a glimpse of the sacramental promise of new life and new hope. This is the season of Advent – a season to hold dear, for it is a sacramental season that speaks of God's dream – of God's hope made real – as surely as the waters cover the sea.

©2009 Jim Melnyk