The Season of Expectations (11/29/15)
Last week we celebrated the first Sunday of Advent and the sacrament of baptism. We talked about the uncomfortable nature of this season of watching and waiting; we also talked about the movie Talladega Nights.
Sermon
Good
morning! Wow, it’s kinda hard to say “good morning” after that reading from the
Gospel of Luke:
There will be signs in
the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations
confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear
and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens
will be shaken.
Good morning, indeed! That’s a nice thought to have
on the morning we’re baptizing a new member of this community. And what a fun
way to start the Christmas season, too! Except, it’s NOT the Christmas season!
This is Advent! It is the season of watching and waiting. It’s supposed to be
uncomfortable. But we don’t want that. We want comfort. We want joy. We want a
neat, orderly experience. We want something we can predict, like the annual
appearance of a baby in a manger.
As I
say this, I’m reminded of a scene in the movie Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. Now, for those of you
who have no clue what I’m talking about, Talladega
Nights is a spoof about auto racing. It stars the comedian Will Ferrell as
Ricky Bobby, the greatest driver in stock car racing. I have to stress that
this is a really dumb movie—it’s not for everyone—and if you have seen Talladega Nights, you’re probably
wondering where I’m going with this.
There’s
a scene in which Ricky Bobby and his family are gathered around the dining room
table. Every bit of food and drink is provided by Ricky Bobby’s sponsors:
Kentucky Fried Chicken, Domino’s Pizza, Taco Bell, Wonder Bread, Mountain Dew,
etc. Before eating, Ricky Bobby blesses the meal by saying, “Dear Lord, Baby
Jesus.” I probably don’t need to tell you that Ricky Bobby isn’t very bright—or
theologically astute. In fact, in the middle of this blessing, Ricky Bobby’s
wife suggests that Jesus did grow up and that Ricky Bobby can offer prayers to
that Jesus, too. Ricky Bobby replies, “I like the Christmas Jesus best, and I’m
saying grace.” When his father-in-law insists that Jesus grew up and it’s more
appropriate to pray to the grownup Jesus, Ricky Bobby puts the argument to rest
by saying: “Look, I like the baby version the best. Do you hear me? I win the
races and I get the money!”
Of
course none of them seem to understand that we pray to the risen Christ, but
it’s a comedy, and the characters are the butt of the jokes: they’re dumb and
they lack self awareness. We all understand that Ricky Bobby is a self-absorbed
idiot. That’s why it’s funny. And maybe there’s a little bit of Ricky Bobby in
us.
I
find that scene interesting—and theologically relevant—because Ricky Bobby
chose to pray to a very specific version of Jesus, the baby in the manger. This
is the version of Jesus that Ricky Bobby liked best. Too often, I think, we try
to control Jesus and the message, we ignore what is uncomfortable. We want the
baby in the blanket, not the labor pains, nor the wet, screaming infant. We
want the Norman Rockwell picture of a happy Thanksgiving feast, not the
arguments over the menu or politics.
We
don’t want the Jesus who calls us to self-sacrifice. We don’t want the Jesus
who tells us to welcome the stranger, the foreigner, or the refugee. We don’t
want the Jesus who tells us to sell everything we own and follow him. Yes, we
want a different world, where people live better lives, but we want to hold on
to the things that are comfortable and familiar to us, too. We want the
familiar story of the couple who can’t find a room at the inn, so they take
refuge in a stable.
Our
reading from the Gospel of Luke isn’t a comfortable story. We want to hear the
happy story, but Jesus reminds us that we are NOT in control. This is why there
will be fear and fainting and foreboding. For us, too, there is no room at the
inn. And certainly, it is tempting to look at all of the troubles in the world
as evidence that Jesus’ words are about to be fulfilled. But here’s the thing:
if this piece of Scripture is true now, then it’s always been true and it will
always be true. Jesus says: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will
not pass away.” Jesus’ words are eternal—all of them. They apply when times are
good and when times are difficult. The kingdom of God is always near.
Perhaps
we want to believe that we’re immune to the fear and foreboding, that our faith
makes us exempt from this reality. My friends, this is not the case; each one
of us will experience the birth pangs of what is coming upon the world—just as
every generation before us has experienced this. As Jesus says, “it will come
upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.”
That
may be the best bit of news in this uncomfortable story: our pain and
discomfort is not unique to us. Luke wrote this gospel for an early Christian
community, perhaps 40 or 50 years after Jesus was crucified. At that point,
Judaism and Christianity were barely distinguishable as different religions.
In
the year 66, not long before Luke wrote this gospel, there was a revolt against
Roman rule. The revolt began among a Jewish faction known as the Zealots.
Within a year, the Zealots and some other factions had defeated most of the
Roman troops that were garrisoned in Judea. Eventually, several legions were
sent from across the Roman Empire. Over the next several years, the revolt was
crushed. In the year 70, the Temple at Jerusalem was destroyed. The last of the
rebels perished in 73 or 74. Tens of thousands of Jews were killed.
Luke
wrote this gospel for a Christian community that was acutely aware of the
results of that revolt. It was in the living memory of that community. It must
have haunted them and captured their imagination. I would guess it was like the
attack on Pearl Harbor, or the Kennedy assassination, or the attacks on 9/11.
At those moments, the world seemed like it was about to come to an end.
Now
think, again, what it must have been like in that fledgling Christian
community, waiting for the day of the Lord.[1]
Patience must have been in short supply. In verse 32 Jesus says, “Truly I tell
you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.” Yet
it doesn’t not seem that Christ returned in that generation; neither had he
returned by the time that Luke wrote this gospel. So Luke reminds this “fledgling
community” to be patient and endure, even when things look hopeless.[2]
Jesus’
instructions are to watch and wait, and look for the signs of his return.
Again, this has to be true for everyone and for all times. Yet we are not to
approach this with fear or hide from our problems. Jesus says: “Be on guard so
that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the
worries of this life.” Do not hide from this; do not let your fears rule your
lives!
Yes,
we must be patient as we watch and wait, but we can’t build bunkers! If we’re
too busy building those bunkers or huddling together in fear, we might miss the
kingdom of God! The kingdom of God is the world as it should be; the world as
God would have it and have us.
A
couple weeks ago, I offered you a quote from the writer Anne Lamott: “we are
basically powerless, but we are not helpless.”[3] I
think that also applies to the kingdom of God. We are powerless to bring it
about or to slow its coming. But we are not helpless. And if we are not
helpless, then we should not be hopeless.
So be
hopeful in this time of uncertainty! Live into the hope and the love of Christ!
Do the work of the Christ! Love God with all your heart and with all your soul
and with all your might. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Feed those
who are hungry, give water to those who are thirsty, clothe those who are
naked, visit the prisoners, and welcome the stranger, the foreigner, the
refugee. Remember: we are baptized into the life, the work, the death, and the resurrection
of Jesus Christ. And we get to affirm that by participating in the sacrament of
baptism today! Thanks be to God. Amen.
Benediction
Now, beloved,
as you depart from this place, remember that God never turns away from us.
Remember that in these uncertain times, we are called to watch and wait.
Remember, too, that we are baptized into the life, the work, the death, and the
resurrection of Jesus Christ. So go forth and be instruments of God’s love and
peace and reconciliation. Do not return evil for evil to any person, but know
that we are all loved by God, and that we are called to reflect that love and
act upon that love to everyone we meet. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, Let
all God’s children say, Amen!
[1]
Karl Jacobson, “Commentary on Luke 21:25-36,” retrieved from: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1497
[2]
Karl Jacobson.
[3]
Anne Lamott, from a Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/AnneLamott/posts/756415041154808
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