Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Texts:  Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122, Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

Dear Friends in Christ, God’s grace and peace be with you. Amen.

I’m one of those people who can’t read the end of the book until I get there. I’ve been known to cover up the last few paragraphs of the final page so I don’t spoil the ending by reading it too early.

My friend Dot, on the other hand, is the opposite. She almost always has to jump to the last few pages to find out how things turn out in the end. Especially when she’s finding the beginning of the book too odd or complicated, she wants to see where things are headed. Otherwise, she says, she reads too far without really knowing what to look for. And if the ending isn’t very satisfying to a book she’s already not enjoying, she may decide it’s just not worth her time and put it down.

I suspect Dot appreciates these Sundays of Advent, when the church across the globe flips ahead to the end of the gospel, to see where this coming Savior is about to take us.

I also suspect she may be disappointed to hear Jesus isn’t about to tell us much. “About that day and hour no one knows. So keep awake[i].” Hmm….  Is it worth reading the rest of this?

Most of us want to know that it’s all going to be worth it. This hoping and waiting, this watching and keeping awake is great if Christmas lives up to the hype. But if we’re going to fuss with all these preparations and trimmings and still end up with a world that doesn’t make any sense, then is there anything worth staying up for?

Most of us want to know that the gospel is trustworthy. We want to know that a day will come when weapons will be turned into plowshares, and when nations will not learn war anymore[ii]. We want to know that one day queer teenagers can walk into friendly nightclubs and dance the night away in pure joy. We want to know that Walmart employees can work their overnight shifts filling shelves with holiday gear and still get out of the building alive. We want to know that there will come a day when girls around the world can choose whatever clothes make them comfortable without fear of being given detention, or being arrested, or being executed. We want to know that this Coming One for whom we pray is really coming to change our lives.

So we flip to the end of the story. But we still might be discouraged by what we see there. First of all, it sounds like it’s setting us up for a sequel. Something is going to happen that isn’t completely included in this manuscript; there are future events to unfold.

But before that comes, most of us will simply need to carry on with daily tasks, working the fields and tuning the snowblower, grinding the grain and peeling the carrots, eating our daily meal, and making whatever sense we can of the life we have been given.

And somehow in the middle of life’s routines and chores, God will arrive, ushering in the promised day. Some will notice it and some will miss it entirely. Jesus himself isn’t completely sure of what it will all look like so he simply tells us, “Keep awake. Stay watchful. There are things changing right before your eyes.”

Is that enough of an invitation into this season?

Advent calls us into a watchful hopefulness that longs to bear life. We ready our homes and send our greetings with the deep desire to reconnect, to rediscover joy, or contentment, or at least kindness. As shadows lengthen earlier each evening, we’re pulled deeper into a season of quiet reflection. We brood like mother hens over a nest of profound aspirations, and still worry that we’re not doing enough. Are there enough baubles and trinkets to make it all happen just the way we want? Will these plans over which we fret hatch into the peace of mind we’ve been seeking?

Or will some virus, or some old family wound or unexpected hurt feelings act like a thief? Will some economic downturn, or some new diagnosis, or some warring, gun-slinging madness intrude in the middle of the night to steal away our joy again?

Jesus simply tells us to keep awake. Signs of God’s arrival are all around us, but we could sleep right through them.

So maybe my friend Dot is right. We’re going to have to read the rest of the story to get more information about what we’re staying awake to see. Jesus will give us plenty of hints as to what we should look for in the gospel.

In Matthew’s account he’ll tell us blessings will surround us, even when we’re mourning or hungering for justice. He’ll invite us into community, urge us to love our enemies and to offer hospitality to those who differ from us, or event to those who don’t seem to deserve it.

He’ll have the audacity to proclaim that God is with us. God is born to unexpecting mothers, in places of political oppression, among those fleeing tyrants or seeking a home in exile. God is present in those who are hungry, those who are in prison or are without clothes or home. God will be found in bread and wine and will greet us even in our deepest grief or sense of abandonment.

Jesus invites us to keep watch for the ways God is working, not just at the end of time, but throughout our lives, even as we grind meal or work fields, or pay bills, or make our way to work or school or daily tasks.

And as we do them, Jesus encourages us to see our connection to the world around us, the lilies of the field or the birds of the air, remembering that God’s care abounds for each of them as it does for all of us.

Jaclyn Roessel, founder of the Grown Up Navajo blog, describes how her people, the Diné, practice something similar. (Deanna Thompson introduced us to her writing at our council meeting last month.)

The Diné (Navajo) remember that we are related in kinship to each other and all creation, and because of those relations, she describes, we have a civic responsibility to each other. The Diné practice of K’é tells them when one is sick all are sick; when one is lacking or unhealthy it impacts everyone.

Roessel writes, “We are meant to live in poetic reciprocity with each other and with Mother Earth through ACTIVE HOPE….   When we are able to act within our communities for the betterment of others, we will speak sacredness fluently[iii].”  

“When we are able to act for the betterment of others… we will speak sacredness fluently.” Or as Jesus would put it, “the reign of heaven has come near.”

We pray for this, you know. Every time we say the words Jesus taught us, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” we are praying for God to remind us that we live in “poetic reciprocity” with each other, and all creation, on earth as it is in heaven. We are praying for God to help us practice K’é –to see those around us as one with us, and to make the world better for all.

And we don’t have to wait for the sequel. In fact, when we flip to the end of the book, we learn that this is more of a “Choose Your Own Adventure” story, where we are invited into the drama. We are encouraged to not only keep watch for signs, but to become them for each other, or as Diné would teach, “to pair our hope with actions[iv].”

Rather than only sitting in the quiet this season, we are invited to stay awake to the ways we can welcome the stranger, and feed the hungry, to care for the brokenhearted, comfort the grieving, and repair heal the earth.

We are called to work to end gun violence and its root causes. We are called to seek wholeness and acceptance for those who are despised or threatened for their unique giftedness. We are called to make the world safe for children, and for the lilies of the field and the birds of the air. We are invited to keep awake to the ways God is present in our actions, to walk in the light[v].

We are encouraged to speak sacredness into our world, always discovering how we become the signs of God’s reign in our lives. We flip to the end of the story, and find God writing us into the script.

So this Advent, let’s choose our own adventure. Let’s head into this season of reflection and action and practice speaking sacredness fluently. Amen

[i] Matthew 24:36-44
[ii] Isaiah 2:1-5
[iii] Roessel, Jaclyn, “A Thanksgiving Message from Seven Amazing Native Americans,” on the Project 562.com webpage.  https://www.project562.com/blog/a-thanksgiving-message-from-seven-amazing-native-americans
[iv] ibid
[v] Isaiah 2:5