Living in Anticipation of a Time Unknown

A sermon preached on Zoom with the people of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Erie, Pennsylvania.

Video of the sermon is available on YouTube.

Welcome to the first Sunday of the time-bending Season of Advent -- a season when past, present and future join one another in a single flowing stream. A season when astrophysics, the arts and Christianity sit comfortably with one another, standing in awe of the wonder of the cosmos and the complexity of space-time in God’s created universe. A season when we can, for a moment, look beyond and through our watches and our Google calendars and remember that, as the second letter of Peter tells us, “With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” In other words, time is not as tamed and contained as it may seem.

Today, we have begun our journey of anticipation of the birth of the Christ child. We are looking forward to the assembly of that familiar scene: the shepherds, the angels, the star, the manger, Mary, Joseph and the little baby -- God with us. And while we are full of expectation, every year the sheer wonder and improbability of the incarnation compels me to make room for the possibility that it won’t actually happen, that this child will never arrive, that God could not possibly love us that much. Not this year, anyway. That questioning, that anxiety, that longing, that anticipation. It’s all real. It’s all felt. We are, somehow, reaching toward something in the future, something in front of us … that took place over 2000 years ago.

Today, we have also begun our journey of anticipation for the coming of a time unknown -- a time that Jesus tells us this morning “about that day or hour no one knows.” A time when “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.” It’s a little different from the cozy nativity scene of our first anticipated event. It sounds downright scary because it is unfamiliar and unknown to us – this coming of the kingdom of God. And yet we do know the coming of the kingdom of God, what is sometimes referred to as “the end of all things,” is not actually the end. It is the beginning. And it will in fact be unfamiliar. And that is good news, because it will mean all things have been reconciled to God.

But how do we anticipate a time unknown? It’s a good question, and Jesus sets about answering it in this morning’s gospel. The answer is, we keep watch. The answer is, we stay alert. The answer is, we stay awake.  

I imagine each generation of human beings in every part of the world has had a moment when some felt it must surely be the end of all things. Generations of Christians have had reason to wonder in times of war, famine, natural disaster, destruction and plague if this is it – the coming kingdom of God. If these are the signs we hear about in this morning’s gospel.

But spending our time trying to determine the “when” we have been told we cannot know has potential to keep us from the job Jesus is assigning us this morning.

Our job is not to interpret suffering in the world as simply unchangeable or write off destructive events as inevitable end signs, nothing to be done. Our job is not to look away during bleak times. Our job is to keep watch. Our job is to keep alert. Our job is to keep awake.

And, our job is to respond. To start practicing the manner of living in that timeline unknown by doing what Jesus has told us to do. To feed, to clothe, to visit. To care particularly for those most marginalized by systems of oppression that will be dismantled in that coming kingdom. Right now this community is providing food, and warm coats and clothing and toys for children and families. This community’s advocacy group has a new system in place to help make sure we show up in solidarity with those directly affected by systems of oppression when needed. This is the work of keeping watch, of being alert, of being awake. Of responding. This is living in anticipation of a time unknown. And living in “anticipation of a time unknown” also goes by another name: hope.  

This time-bending way of Christian living is living in hope. A hope that does sometimes seem improbable, impossible even. A hope that can be as difficult to understand as anticipating a future event that has already happened. A hope that can seem distant during challenging times, especially during this most challenging year. So remember, we are not each individually responsible for carrying this hope all of the time. We do this together, as Christian community.

Together as one body, we keep watch. Together as one body we stay alert. Together as one body, we stay awake. Together as one body we anticipate and stand in awe of swirling, untamed, uncontained events past, present and future, allowing ourselves to be carried along by the marvelous, time-bending, ever-flowing hope of God.