An Honest Assessment

“The Annunciation to Mary” from an Illuminated Gospel, Amhara Peoples (Ethiopia), ca. late 14th century.

Mark 13:24-37
24 ‘But in those days, after that suffering,
the sun will be darkened,
   and the moon will not give its light,
25 and the stars will be falling from heaven,
   and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.
26Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in clouds” with great power and glory. 27Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.
 
28 ‘From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
 
32 ‘But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.’

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Mark 13:24-37

There is something truly remarkable about the Christian calendar year. Beginning on the First Sunday in Advent, today, it moves us through our Scriptures in a dramatic fashion. There are times when we can acknowledge our gifts and be thankful. There are times to remember those who have passed on. There are times to celebrate births and resurrections. There are also confessional times when we approach God, acknowledging that all is not right with ourselves and the world.
 
When we think of Advent, we might remember only the fun, celebratory stuff. It’s a season of hope, joy, love, and peace. It’s a time when we decorate the church and our homes and make our dogs wear little elf costumes. It’s a time when we sing carols like “Joy to the World” and get a bit winded during the “Glorias” in “Angels We Have Heard on High.” And given the way 2020 has gone, who couldn’t use a little light-hearted cheer right about now?
 
So why does Advent, our Christian New Year, begin with Scripture passages about God not showing up, God showing up angry, and God showing up only after a lot of suffering?
 
In Isaiah 64, the prophet wishes that God would just show up like he has done in ages past as he did in the stories of the prophet’s ancestors. God arriving with terrible earthquakes or forest fires is preferable to the God the prophet is experiencing, a hidden God, a silent God.
 
Our Psalmist cries out for God to show up and save everyone, to be present during a time of calamity. “Let your face shine, that we may be saved” is the refrain in this musical Psalm. But the writer of this Psalm asks that God come as an ally, not as a foe, and remember that God and God’s people are meant to be close, like those standing side-by-side. 
 
It gets worse. We’ve been in Jerusalem during the last few days of Jesus’ life on earth for several weeks now in Matthew’s gospel. Week after week, we’ve heard difficult and challenging parables about wealth and privilege, injustice, and fear. You’d think after changing to the gospel of Mark in the New Year and it being Advent, we might be able to move on. Nope. Jesus is still stuck in Jerusalem, talking about the end of the world with his last remaining breaths. Here, he describes the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and the city’s inhabitants' suffering in cosmic language. After all that suffering and destruction, the divine leader, the “Song of Man,” will return and restore order. But maybe not right away, who knows. Nobody knows, Jesus exclaims, except God.
 
Why can’t things be like they used to be?
 
Why does the world feel so harsh?
 
Where’s God in the midst of all this suffering and chaos?
 
These questions concerned the ancient writers of today’s Scriptures.
 
Why can’t things be like they used to be?
 
Why does the world feel so harsh?
 
Where’s God in the midst of all this suffering and chaos?
 
Have we asked these questions in 2020? Why can’t things be like they used to be?
Remember what it was like to be around people, anybody really, even someone we didn’t really like being around? Wouldn’t it have been better to share this year’s Thanksgiving with our annoying cousin or smelly uncle than having to cook a Thanksgiving meal for two?
 
Why does the world feel so harsh? Sure, everything in the US has always been polarized; it’s the heritage we carry in a two-party system with a history of slavery and white privilege. From a divided nation to the constant post-truth narrative, to the realities facing real people on the margins that have lost loved ones, jobs, health, homes, and other basic securities during the pandemic, the world is rough these days. No wonder we might want to skip over the thumping language in our Scriptures for the idyllic angelic announcements and manger scenes.
 
And where is God in all of this? Jesus tells his disciples in Matthew’s gospel that “where two or three gather in my name, I am there in their midst.” Yet gathering is the most challenging thing to do these days. We do our best to meet by Zoom and Facebook and through emails and on the phone. We might see each other masked up in Lantman’s or at the hardware store, but we cannot gather in-person as the body of Christ. The recent surge in the pandemic has the Vermont Conference of the United Church of Christ recommending that local churches forgo any in-person gatherings for the rest of 2020. How are we supposed to keep the faith these days when our rituals, practices, and communities of support are so disrupted?
 
While the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic is a novel experience in human history, we’re not the first people to face adversity and wonder how to keep the faith. And the season of Advent doesn’t try to gloss over the difficulties and challenges of this time or any time. In fact, the first two weeks of Advent are penitential times, weeks where the scriptures and hymns and liturgies call on us to frame the issues we are facing.
 
We cannot be physically close to our families right now. People we know are getting sick. Some are dying. This year has been very isolating and lonely. We have darker thoughts these days, and we struggle to get out of bed.  We worry our family members are becoming radicalized because of our nation’s political polarization and false claims of voter fraud. We know that this pandemic is a season and will lift at some point, but it feels like we’re stuck in winter in mid-February, it’s been cold and dreary for a long time, and there’s still plenty more to come.
 
Why does our faith do this, make us tell the truth, calling on us to confess the current state of affairs, acknowledging where we hurt most?
 
Perhaps the story of Christmas with all its hope and light and cheer has to be rewritten every year. We hear the story of Mary and Joseph, of the shepherds and angels and Magi and animals in the stable and the birth of one baby born in a far-off land 2,000 years ago. This story can feel pretty distant and inconsequential, but these early Advent Scriptures remind us of our need to experience God’s presence again, to hope for a world that is a little better, a little lighter, a lot more peaceful. We can resonate with the Isaiah passage that just wants things to be like they used to be. We can internalize the words of our Psalm, that wishes for a more peaceful world. And we can read our gospel message and see ourselves longing for God’s presence and victory during uncertain times of chaos and calamity.
 
Then, we can imagine that in 2020 Jesus will be born into this world that is undergoing a pandemic. Many have died, and many more have become sick. Most human life on this planet has been affected by the pandemic in negative ways. Generally speaking, people feel more lonely, more on edge, more depressed, and more anxious. Some have lost the basic securities of life, enough food, work, family, health, emotional support, and purpose. We need hope right now. We need a story that reminds us that God is with us, that goodness is coming, that we aren’t experiencing this difficult year on our own.
 
Do your best in the coming week to consider where you are hurting. Offer these confessions to God through prayer. Share them with others close to you if they are too heavy to manage on your own. Consider also the wider world and the pain others are experiencing. Don’t try to figure out how to fix things yet; just work on understanding.
 
I imagine that when we do this, we will have a better appreciation of our Christmas story, when, in a few short weeks, Jesus Christ is born again into our world. 
 
If you are struggling during the pandemic and especially now during this holiday season, reach out. Call the church and speak with Andi Lloyd or with me or connect with us through email. Join the Closed Facebook Group that offers folks a safe place to share prayer concerns and interact with one another. Consider joining us for our Advent Vespers every Wednesday at 7 pm beginning December 2nd on Zoom.
 
May we take an honest account of the world as it is, so we can better appreciate the importance of our Christmas Story. Amen. 

Blessings, Pastor Jared