We come together this morning to give thanks that we are alive and to accept an invitation to a new season in the Church calendar. The seemingly endless green of Pentecost gives way to the refreshing blue/purple of Advent. As joyful and wonderful as the season is, we also know how difficult transitions can be. Psychologists tell us that we are most vulnerable to stress when we are forced to deal with change, especially when we do not know what to expect.
Looking back over the past two decades, I cannot think of a year that has included so much unexpected change, turmoil and suffering.
I don’t know about you, but in my office, I have two items that help me make sense of change. One is a calculator—a TI-84 Plus Silver Edition. This modern machine can do more calculations faster than most of the computers that sent the first human into outer space. It is programmed to do algebra, geometry, calculus, statistical analysis and much more. With the push of a few buttons, I can find solutions to six equations in six variables, calculate the odds of winning the lottery, or view your biorhythms. It is a remarkable machine, and it fits in the palm of my hand.
The other item I have in my office to help me deal with change is the Holy Bible, in the NRSV version. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, it contains all things necessary to salvation. The Old Testament reveals God’s mighty acts in creation; God’s deliverance of suppressed peoples; all the Law and the prophets. More than these, the Bible describes the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah, whose coming was foretold in the Old Testament, and whose life is our model of the new covenant, one based on love. All that we are is based on God’s love working in us by the word made flesh in the person of Jesus.
As we engage in the transition from Pentecost to Advent, it is tempting to reach for the calculator instead of the Bible to measure our worth. In order to help us make sense of the past and prepare for the future, it is reassuring to measure assets, assess physical strength, and answer many other questions about the finite world.
But Advent invites us to something more profound than these. Advent gives us a glimpse of that which cannot be measured in human terms.
Advent is the first season of the church year, and it always begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. Using my trusty TI-84, I can calculate that after today, November 29, 2009, there are 25 days until Christmas.
In case you did not know, the word “advent” is derived from the a Latin word for “coming.” The season is a time of preparation and expectation for the coming celebration of our Lord’s nativity, and for the final coming of Christ “in power and glory.”
If you are like me, your idea of Christmas is more about the coming of the baby Jesus than it is about the final coming of Christ in power and glory? You are sentimental, and you take comfort in the scene of Mary, Joseph and Jesus in a cozy barn, with adoring animals sleeping peacefully nearby. In contrast, however, Luke’s gospel message to us in chapter 21 ends with the words, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”
This coming of Jesus is not a sentimental one. There are no shepherds, no cows or sheep, no star and no manger. Luke is telling us to grow up, to prepare for some pretty heavy responsibilities. The Church and its members will face tough times, but the “Son of Man,” i.e. Jesus, will come from heaven with power to change all things.
It is tempting, in the face of such warnings, to measure our life’s work, our past actions and behaviors, our acts of charity, and our love of God and neighbor, with a calculator—to add up all the good things and compare them to all the ways we have fallen short (and all of us have fallen short!).
That is the problem with the calculator approach. If God were to measure us this way, none of us would have a chance.
That is because the calculator is a machine. It is made of silicon chips, tiny wires, printed circuit boards, liquid crystals and lots of plastic. It can do sophisticated algorithms, but it cannot inspire us for change.
And so Luke reminds us of the other item, God’s redeeming word. The Bible is like a fig tree. Its pages may appear worn out, like dry leaves on dead branches in winter, but for those who pay attention to nature, we know that in spring those same branches will sprout again in a cycle as old as creation.
So consider this option: Open your Bible. Don’t throw away the calculator; you will need it to better understand and measure what you have. But consider, once again, that other resource. Use it to reconnect yourself to the core of your being. Keep it open to remind you to be alert and aware that the connection we all have to God and one another is love.
If we allow ourselves to be weighed down by our day-to-day earthly concerns, cynicism and doubt, we will not be aware of the nearness of God, and will not be ready when God comes.
Let us stay awake. Let us remain hopeful and optimistic. Let us use our energy for love and forgiveness. Let us believe in ourselves because the One who came believes in us and inspires us for positive and life-giving change.
