Advent 1

Mark 13: 24-37                                                                                   December 3, 2023

Keep awake! Be alert! Big things are coming, cosmic shifting events. But honestly, I feel too wakeful, almost hyper-alert. I tire from being watchful.

Sometimes, staying awake is hard, even with the best intentions. My college Ancient History class began at 8:00 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The five of us rarely all stayed awake till the end. Professor Tingley was fascinating because he had lived through history. He was at least 60. But you had to pay attention because he had no variation in the pitch or tone of his voice. He delivered his gems in an unassuming monotone.

I often sat near the heat pipes to take out the Arctic chill of walking across the South Dakota campus. You can imagine the combination of 8 AM, listening to the monotone dissertation comparing Sumerian and Hebrew creation myths, and the cozy warmth as the heat finally kicked in. I fought to keep my eyelids peeled and my pencil moving on the paper, but one morning, I succumbed and drifted off. My left arm must have dropped to my side, floating to the hot pipes. A burning pain woke me, my head whipped up, and I shouted what is often said when you are hurt or stunned. Professor Tingley calmly looked up and said, “Welcome back to class, Mr. Weir.”  The angry burn stayed on my hand for a week, reminding me of my shame. But I never drifted off again and aced both semesters of Ancient History.

Regarding my spiritual life, I want to be awake, alert to what is happening, and aware of the signs of the times. But there is so much to keep track of who is in the hospital, who is having surgery, what committees are doing, what sermons are coming, and what the cultural and political shifts of our times are. Where might the Holy Spirit squeeze in a moment or two?

Jesus said,

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.

²⁶ “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.

That sounds like a total eclipse, with a meteor shower and a tearing open of the space and time continuum. While remarkable, Jesus is not saying something new here. Mark is sliding in a little of Joel, a phrase from Daniel, and an image from Isaiah. At the end of the age, God will act and set everything right.

So how long, O Lord? After all, it is the year 2023. That is 65 generations of disciples since Jesus. What are we to watch for? What is the hope we need to keep alive? Can we use a secret decoder ring at the end of the Book of Revelation to calculate the date?

Baptist preacher William Miller used Daniel 8:14 to calculate the end date and came up with sometime in the year following March 21, 1843. Some of his followers sold all they had and waited on a hill. When March 21, 1844, came and went, he recalculated to October 22, 1844, which became known as the Great Disappointment.  (As if the world not ending is a disappointment!)

Pew Research polling found that 4 in 10 Americans think we live in the end times. Personally, I’m bad at predictions, especially about the future (to quote Yogi Berra.). But I understand why people feel pessimistic. There is much that causes us to worry.

Rev. Nadia Bolz Weber wrote an essay titled, “If you can’t take it anymore, there is a reason.”¹  She compared the human psyche to a fuse box in her old apartment building. The building was wired for a time when you just had a refrigerator, toaster, and a few lamps, not a microwave, electric hairdryer, and a smartphone. If you try to do too many things at once, a fuse will blow, and everything will halt. While that is annoying, it is a safety mechanism to keep us from burning down the house.

The human psyche spent a few million years being shaped to contend with the trials of village life. We moved in packs of 80 to 120 people. That’s what most of us can handle. We are emotionally wired to deal with the average attendance of a church, just barely. But now the tragedy, death, and destruction pour in from everywhere. We can only take in a few crises at once without blowing a fuse. Bolz-Webber’s advice is to ask yourself three questions:

What is mine to do, and what is not mine to do?

What is mine to say and what is not to say?

What is mine to care about, and what is more than I can take it?

Bolz-Webber concludes, “I’m not saying we should put our heads in the sand; I’m saying that if your circuits are overwhelmed, there’s a reason, and the reason isn’t because you are heartless, it’s because there is not a human heart on this planet that can bear all of what is happening right now.”

What does Jesus want from us when he says to keep awake, alert, and ready for his arrival?

I like this brief parable about the fig tree, where Jesus says,

²⁸ “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near.”

We must pay attention and look for the signs to be hopeful and see what God is doing. You won’t find hope doom-scrolling through the news. We will likely need to get away from the noise and off the beaten path to see where the green shoots are. We must be present to notice hope and wait for the right time. You know that fig tree is supposed to bloom in late Spring, but is that April 20, May 14, or June 1? If you want to be present for the exact day, you may have to show up for several weeks.

Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection shares a story of green shoots in his spiritual memoir, “The Practice of the Presence of God.”  Lawrence Herman lived through the 30 Years War between 1618 and 1648. It was one of the most destructive European conflicts, with more than 4 million people killed. We think our times are uniquely partisan, but we can’t touch the ferocity of 17th-century Europe. Lawrence grew up poor and enlisted in the army for six years. He was captured in battle spent time as a prisoner of war, and a wounded leg gave him a lifelong limp.

A moment of spiritual insight sustained him through these difficult times. On a shivering winter morning, Lawrence observed a tree standing leafless in the snow. I can imagine that tree as a metaphor for the cold-hearted battles of the day. It suddenly occurred to him that the tree would soon spring back to life, and he saw the coming flowers and fruit in his mind. At that moment, he sensed God’s presence pouring into him. He felt great love surrounding him and a faith that God worked towards the fruitfulness of all things. Later, he said that moment converted his heart and never left him. I love this spiritual metaphor since it is Hanging the Greens Sunday to remind us to watch for God’s presence.

After the war, Lawrence joined the Carmelite Brothers in Paris and became the steward of the kitchens. He developed a simple and transforming spiritual practice where he tried to keep his attention on the presence of God no matter what he was doing. He might be purchasing supplies, scrubbing the pots and pans, or walking to another village, and we work to bring his focus on God being present in the moment. In my experience of Buddhist mindful meditation, it’s a similar practice of calling our thoughts back to the center, the great love of God that flows in all things.

Our brains are constantly busy with thoughts. Let’s try an experiment. For one minute of silence, see how much of the time you can simply focus on your breathing. If you find yourself thinking, simply let it go and return to your breath. But count how many times you think while trying to simply breathe.

One minute is done. How much did you think? I’m curious what you thought. There are things you need to do. Go to the grocery store after lunch. Turn in your pledge. How many of your thoughts were judgmental? I’m not doing this right. Can’t I control my thoughts for one minute? What is wrong with me? Don’t worry; you are simply human.

To see the signs of the first green shoots of hope requires us to find a quiet center. As we begin Advent, I invite you to call to mind the Practice of the Presence of God whenever you can. You could set aside a time or just stop whenever you can. Simply do this. Think “God is right here, right now.”  I hope these moments reveal a green shoot of hope or two, a moment of hanging the greens in your heart.

Notes:

1. Nadia Bolz Webber on Substack:  https://thecorners.substack.com/p/if-you-cant-take-in-anymore-theres