“Stars Falling in Alabama?”
Psalm 80; Isaiah 64:1-9; Mark 13:24-37 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Anniston, Alabama – November 30, 2008 First Sunday of Advent – Hope
Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words, that we might be alert to the light of your hope. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
The world is a mess. Have you noticed? A global financial crisis, frightfully well-organized terrorist attacks in India, a Wal-Mart employee trampled to death by over-eager shoppers – there is a lot that is wrong with our world at the moment. People’s lives have been torn apart by fires, earthquakes, and civil wars, not to mention all those who are just suffering through grinding poverty day in and day out. The world is a mess. Closer to home, we have schools threatened by pro-ration, a City Council that is, if possible, even more dysfunctional than the last one, and charities that are overburdened by the increasing numbers of people coming for help. But here in the church, we are starting a new season, Advent, and we’re focusing our hearts on Anticipation. Today, we’re talking about Hope, of all things! How out of touch are we, anyway? Can “all the pretty terms of religion,” as Shawn Colvin calls them, really have anything to say to our present moment? May I suggest that the answer is Yes, if we listen closely.
1
We human beings are dramatic people. Lacy and I were talking about this just yesterday, when I accused her of being a “drama queen.” At first she denied it, but then, with her grandma nodding her head, she admitted that maybe she does, in fact, tend to react with passion to pretty much any stimulus. Now, we’re not all 12 year old girls, thank goodness, but the rest of us have our moments, don’t we? And we’re not alone. The beginning of the passage I just read from Isaiah seems to offer us some solidarity, both in our dramatic tendencies and in our sense that the world might just be a mess that can’t be cleaned up. “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, that the mountains would quake at your presence!” pleads Isaiah. Now, we can certainly assume that this request is made with the assumption that God will be holding the author safely in the palm of his hand while the mountains are quaking, but still, there has to be some recognition there that it’s a rather destructive appeal. But Isaiah doesn’t seem to think that’s a bad thing. How could it be worse, he seems to be saying. Have you ever been at that moment when things have gotten so bad, that you feel like it would just be better for God to come down and destroy it all and give us a do-over? Many of the apocalyptic writers in the Bible seemed to have this same dramatic tendency. Certainly, in Mark 13, when the end times are imagined, there is that same idea of destruction of the natural world. The sun and moon stop giving light, and the stars start falling out of the sky. Some of you probably thought the end
2
of the world came in Alabama yesterday, right? One could argue that it’s Alabama’s turn, but for Auburn fans, the stars might as well have fallen down. Yes indeed, we are a dramatic people. So how are Christians supposed to equip ourselves to deal with so many tragic world events that inspire such dramatic pessimism? The answer Advent gives us today is Hope. The theme we are using for Advent this year is Anticipation. But anticipation can be good or bad. Hope is what makes the difference. What do you think the opposite of Hope is? Is it dread? Or apathy? Let’s vote. And since we’re a post-modern people, you can vote twice, if you prefer. Who thinks the opposite of hope is dread? Who thinks it’s apathy? Interesting… You see a lot of kitsch that tries to commodify hope. “Don’t lose hope.” “Hold onto hope” “Don’t give up hope.” There is a lot out there that implies that somehow, hope is something we’re in charge of keeping on top of. And in a sense, we are. Hope, as our general minister and president has suggested, can be a discipline, something we choose to do each day, like our marriage vows or taking care of the dog. But the Psalmist and Isaiah suggest a deeper reality too. “Restore us, O Lord God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.” “You were angry and we sinned; because you hid yourself, we transgressed.” Do you notice how it almost seems like the writer is blaming the people’s sins on God, implying that if God had taken better care of them, they never would have gone
3
astray? Is that reasonable? Or is it a weasely way to try to get out from under the burden of responsibility? It might be weasely. But it might also be a humble realization of the narrow limitations of our capacity to save ourselves on our own. We want to hold onto hope, but the truth is, we need God’s help. Without God’s grace, our faith is weak and watery. Certainly, we have a responsibility to put ourselves in situations where we’re more likely to become alert to God’s grace, to hear God’s word and be nourished at God’s table. But sometimes, things seem so bad, that it’s hard to imagine them getting any better, and a total do-over seems preferable to trying to fix things. And when those moments come, it’s vitally important that we gather together and hear the words of scripture that remind us that people have faced such dim prospects before. And what brought them through? Hope. The collective effort to put themselves, like clay, in God’s hands and trust that things will work out for those who wait for the Lord. There is another line in that passage from Isaiah that strikes me. The prophet talks about how God “did awesome deeds that we did not expect.” God is into surprises. Who knew? What does that mean in a season of anticipation? Most of us have been through this before. And if you haven’t been through it here yet, you may have read about it in the newsletter. We know that Advent lasts for four Sundays, and then we have Christmas Eve. And then there’s the Sunday when a lot of people stay home, because the preacher is most likely out of town and the service is quiet
4
and you might snore, and then it’s January, and things get started again and get back to normal. So what is it that we’re anticipating again? Why should we wonder what is coming when we’ve more or less done this so many times before? God is into surprises. This may be your preacher. I have bubble wrap in my hand, and you see it, and you think you know what you’ll hear. (Pop bubble wrap.) Yes? But this is God. I have bubble wrap in my hand, and you think you know what you’ll hear. (Ring hidden bell.) Aha! Anticipation. It’s our choice. We can choose apathy and not anticipate anything. Or we can anticipate with dread, focusing on how messed up things are and wishing it would all just go away. Or, we can choose Hope, and anticipate the future, whether it’s the next few moments, or the new few weeks, or the coming year, with trust in God and thanksgiving for all God’s promises. Stars may be falling, but falling stars can be beautiful things, and they fall in God’s great heaven. Our job is to keep our eyes open and our faces up so that we don’t miss out on seeing them. Because any light that’s shining in the darkness changes the darkness completely. And that’s the kind of light we are anticipating. Let us pray: Almighty and Loving God, whose faithfulness does not fail, grant that we might be renewed in hope and trust, that we might carry the light of your Christ into a world that is sore afraid and in need of the hope we know in you. Through Jesus Christ our Lord and the Holy Spirit that sustains us, Amen.
5