November 28th, 2021
Luke 21: 5-19
When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, 6 “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”
7 They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?” 8 And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and, ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.
9 “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” 10 Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; 11 there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.
12 “But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. 13 This will give you an opportunity to testify. 14 So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; 15 for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. 16 You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. 17 You will be hated by all because of my name. 18 But not a hair of your head will perish. 19 By your endurance you will gain your souls.
Advent Life
Well. Welcome to Advent? After that scripture, part of me wants to shout, “Alleluia”, while the other part wants to crawl back into bed. Let’s face it, the pervasive sadness permeating our world at the moment is nothing short of ‘stay-in-bed’ worthy. Yet, there have been hope-filled moments in the making. Snapshots of humanity picturesquely captured in beautiful poses; people playing music for one another across balconies; elderly folks receiving groceries from their younger neighbors; church people continuing to feed the hungry and visit the lonely on porches; medical geniuses coming together and formulating the quickest response to any pandemic, ever. The list goes on.
Yet, our eyes and ears have been inundated with the negative.
Like a horrible car accident, we can’t help but fixate on the catastrophic rather than the good. We have opinions about things about which we know very little, yet unashamedly share publicly as though we were the experts. Like a cancer, the insidious negativity has been breeding in our societal world unfettered for almost two years. Two years that seem like a lifetime. Where is our hope? Where is our joy? I feel like we’ve all been waiting for a miracle to occur, ushering us into a new age of proximity and health. Waiting.
Waiting.
Prior to the birth of Christ, that sense of unrest and calamity existed, just as it does today. Of course, in different strokes—and if you ask me, much worse—their calamity took the shape of being enslaved, spread out, kidnapped, culturally co-opted, and then brought back together again. Yet, they shared their stories throughout the generations. They spoke of a day when Messiah would come—the Christ, the savior of God’s making. They taught their children the scriptures of the day, the tales that had been passed down. Around campfires and hearths, the Word of God was breathed through faithful lips in hopeful tones. “He’s coming. Just be patient. The miracle we’re awaiting will save us from this. From all of this.”
I believe this to be the truest form of Advent. We’re already here, we already believe. But do we believe like they did? In the midst of our current suffering, do we remember that our God is mighty to save, that He already sent us a miracle and sacrificed Himself so that we can live? It’s easy to forget in hard times, but that’s what also makes it so valuable. Faith is our salve, our boon, and our hope. Advent is a named season, but really, we’ve been living in one Advent or another for the entirety of our lives. All of us. Whether it be pandemic or war, great depression or mental depression, we each live in an Advent that awaits a miracle.
That awaits a savior.
The good news is this: The Good News.
The anticipation of the Incarnation isn’t just about memorializing Jesus’ birth, it’s also—and chiefly—about remembering our salvation. We exist because of His sacrifice. But without His birth, there could have been none of the former. This year, engage in Advent, the named season. Seek joy. It’s around you, everywhere, all you have to do is look. Remember your baptism, remember the thin spaces, and remember that you aren’t returning to dust just yet. There’s plenty of life left to live, even if only for a moment. So live it. Live into it. Forget all the negative and focus on what really matters—the love of a God who gave you His Son, your friends, family, and pets. Who gives you the peace that passes all understanding, if only you’d ask. He gave us us. And together, there’s no darkness we can’t bring light into. Because we carry the torch of those who came before us, those who believed.
Those who spoke words of hope, saying, “He’s coming. Just be patient. The miracle we’re awaiting will save us from this. From all of this.”
Because He already has.
The Rev. Sean A. Ekberg
Rector, Episcopal Church of the Resurrection
Episcopal Diocese of Oklahoma