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Luke 21:25-36
(Stand silently in the pulpit for a while, as though waiting for
something...)
The anticipation is incredible, isn't it? You must be waiting for
the same
thing I am.
(Silence and expectation again...)
Then again, if you're waiting for the sermon to begin, we're not
waiting for
the same thing. I'm waiting for the time Jesus talked about when
there would
be signs in the sun, moon and stars: when people will faint with
fear and the
powers of heaven will be shaken. I wonder how long I'll have to
wait.
(Silence and expectation...)
Many of us are as uncomfortable with Jesus' words dealing with the
last days
of the world as we are uncomfortable with prolonged silence. In
the seminary,
we learned to call these passages "apocalyptic." Such
teachings, with their
strange imagery, so embarrassed us, we tucked them away along with
our class
notes. We lumped them together with tarot cards, crystal balls and
Ouiji
boards as belonging to a by-gone, unscientific era. We were too
sophisticated
to pay them much attention. It was the "social justice"
and the "personal
ethics" of the teachings of Jesus that captured our fancy.
Thus we left the
"apocalypse" for the fire and brimstone preachers.
The idea that Jesus will surprisingly enter our world from heaven
is still
viewed as fantasy by many today. And, the main objection remains
the same:
that such ideas contradict science and physics.
Surprise! Recent scientific theories advocate the theory that the
universe is
much more vast and mysterious than we ever imagined. Scientists
hypothesize
that there may be multiple universes (dare we suggest
"heavens") stacked
alongside ours. According to their concept, there may be six or
seven such
dimensions that exist---beyond the three dimensions we currently
perceive.
Simultaneously or should I say concurrently, things have changed
for Lutheran
preaching too. Over the years, our "lectionaries" began
to include more of
these "apocalyptic texts" and, more and more Lutheran
preachers, like myself,
joined their colleagues of other "liturgical churches"
in a disciplined
preaching straight from the Church Year's Lectionary. There was no
longer any
escaping such passages. Several times a year, and especially
during Advent,
the gospel passages focus on the coming of the kingdom of God in
cataclysmic
ways.
For instance, in our passage for today, there is talk of impending
signs in
sun, moon and stars, as well as distress among nations---all of
which our
Lord sees as the ushering in of a new era. Jesus sees the Son of
man coming
in a cloud with great power and glory. For Christ the kingdom of
God is not
then a gradual or evolutionary affair. The kingdom of God will
burst,
suddenly, upon us and the power of God will suddenly become
obvious to us
all. This sudden power of God will establish, finally, God's
long-promised
justice and righteousness.
This is different from the vision of the kingdom of God held by
many at the
beginning of the 20th century. In that more optimistic era, before
two great
world wars and the Holocaust, the vision was of Christians
building the
kingdom of God by reforming government and society.
Such hymn writers as William Pierson Merrill wrote:
"Rise up, O men of God!
"His Kingdom tarries long;
Bring in the day of brotherhood
And end the night of wrong."
As if we could, by our own efforts, establish the Kingdom of God!
Not so says
this morning's passage from the 21st chapter of Luke. It is
clearly the
kingdom of God, not of humankind! God will usher in this new era
in his time,
not our time.
So, we might ask, "What is our task in all of this?" Our
task is to proclaim
an "apocalyptic Gospel," whether we like the idea or
not; to not shy away
from it but rather, to be ready for it; to take seriously Jesus
warning: "to
watch at all times."
This does not mean that Christians retreat into inactivity, merely
watching
and praying, while the world goes hungry and suffers from
injustice. This is
to be proactive "watching!"
The great works of reforming society and of attacking injustice
are always
needed. We must, however, be prepared to accept that no society,
which we
create, is the same as the Kingdom of God. Instead, that which we
might be
able to create, will be but a reflection of, in anticipation of,
the Kingdom
of God. God's Kingdom will come but, and I repeat, it will arrive
in God's
way and in God's own time. And, the apocalyptic passages, so long
avoided by
Lutheran preachers, will remind us of that day and help us get
ready for it.
Advent is the FIRST season of each new Church Year. By
definition, Advent
means "Coming into place." More specifically, we are
talking about Jesus
"coming into place" in three separate and distinct ways:
FIRST, into the world 2000 years ago;
NEXT, into your heart and mine, today;
And, FINALLY, into our world once again
at a point in time we cannot know.
It is this latter "coming into place"---the return of
Jesus Christ, in power
and glory---that establishes the two main themes of Advent namely:
PROMISE
and HOPE.
The "promise," that Jesus will
return, is God's promise.
The "hope," that Jesus will come for
you and for me, is mankind's hope.
Furthermore, relative to "last things" (as theologians
like to term the "end
of time") there can be neither "promise" or
"hope" without God's grace and
man's faith.
Some years ago, during a British conference on comparative
religions, experts
from around the world debated what belief, if any, was unique to
the
Christian faith. They began eliminating possibilities.
Incarnation? Other religions had different
versions of gods appearing
in human form.
Resurrection? Again, other religions had
accounts of return from death.
The debate went on for some time until C.S. Lewis wandered into
the room.
"What's the rumpus about?" he asked. Hearing that his
colleagues were
uncertain about any uniquely Christian contribution among world
religions.
Lewis responded, "Oh, that's easy. It's grace."
After some discussion, the conferees had to agree. The notion of
God's love
coming to us free of charge, no strings attached, seems to go
against every
instinct of humanity. The Buddhist eight-fold path, the Hindu
doctrine of
karma, the Jewish covenant, and the Muslim code of law---each of
these offers
a way to earn God's approval. Only Christianity dares to make
God's love
unconditional.
So it is to this freely given, universal and most amazing GRACE,
mankind
responds with a faith that encompasses and embraces all seasons of
the Church
Year. We move faithfully from Advent to Christmas and to Epiphany,
through
Lent and Holy Week, to Easter and then, down the long corridor of
Pentecost
that lies beyond. It is a marvelous "faith
journey" we take, with out
children, each and every year.
The thrill of the first lighted candle of Advent never lessens no
matter how
many years have passed; nor the joy of manger crèche with infant
child. And,
old Simeon's temple blessing, the forty-day ascent to the
Calvary's cross,
and the open tomb---ALL fill heart and soul with a sense of God's
presence
and grace.
How could we not be ever more faithful?
AMEN!
Children's Sermon
Psalm 25:1-10
Open a highway atlas to a map of the United States, one, which
shows the
Interstate system. Identify the cities of New York and Los
Angeles, and ask
the children to point out the path they would take to drive from
one of these
cities to the other. See if they can identify a good path, and
then a bad
path. Then ask them if there is a particular book they know of
that gives us
directions for living a good life. Suggest that the Bible can be
used as an
atlas for living, and today's Scripture says: "Make me to
know your ways, O
Lord; teach me your paths" (Psalm 25:4). Ask them to name one
good path to
take if you want to live right. Point out that there are at least
three
excellent paths to be found in Psalm 25: The way of
"steadfast love," the
path of "faithfulness," and the route of following God's
laws, keeping his
"covenant and his decrees"
(v. 10). Conclude by saying that all of these paths lead us closer
to God's
Son, Jesus Christ, and the one whose birthday we will be
celebrating at
Christmas.
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