Signs Within and Around
Luke 21:25-36
‘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. Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.’
Then he told them a parable: ‘Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
‘Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.’
Let me start out by apologizing for a third apocalyptic Bible passage in a row. The part of me that’s forward-thinking and type-A made me want to prep my Advent passages early, so I figured we’d start out with the main Gospel option from the lectionary—it was only after I chose this Luke passage that I realized the last Mark reading we had was the “little apocalypse,” and that I would be preaching on Revelation for the Thanksgiving service last week. I promise I’m not trying bum everyone out—especially not on the first Sunday of Advent when we’re supposed to be talking about hope!
But that’s why this actually kind of works. As we’ve talked about for the past couple weeks, apocalyptic visions and writings come from a place of hope, a need for hope after so many broken promises and failed prophesies. I’ve also talked about how apocalyptic writings and predictions have been used by certain religious sects, both Christian and non-Christian alike, as an excuse to just kind of wait for the end, sure that they’re the chosen ones and they won’t have to worry about the pain or destruction that comes with the end-times—and I’ve talked about how this is the wrong way to think about apocalypse. Let’s remember from two weeks ago, Jesus clearly states no one but God knows when the end times will occur, and so we must not just passively wait and become complacent, but rather stay alert and ready to help this world and our fellow humans. So what I’m about to talk about might make it sound like I’m contradicting myself a little.
Because Advent is a time of waiting. It’s a time of anticipation of the birth of Jesus, a time of great hope and promise. And it’s a time of preparation, and preparing for something new and wonderful. I’m thinking back to one of our Advent readings from last year, from the writings of theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “Advent is a time of waiting. Our whole life, however, is Advent—that is, a time of waiting for the ultimate, for the time when there will be a new heaven and a new earth, when all people are brothers and sisters and one rejoices in the words of the angels: ‘On earth peace to those on whom God’s favor rests.’ Learn to wait, because he has promised to come.” So yes, it’s Advent, and we’re waiting for the birth of a sweet baby Jesus in the manger. But we’re also waiting for that second coming. We’re waiting for an earth as it is in heaven. So here I am, echoing Bonhoeffer, telling you all that our whole live is Advent, our whole life is one long wait, after telling you not to just sit around and wait.
But I promise it’s not the contradiction that it sounds like. Waiting does not have to be passive. Waiting does not have to be apathetic. “Be alert at all times, “ Jesus says, because we don’t know the day or the hour. Just because Advent is a time of waiting, just because we might be waiting our whole lives for something we won’t see in our lifetimes, does not mean that we just sit back and hope for the best. And it doesn’t mean we should just sit back and wait to until we enter paradise after we die. Jesus’ parable of the fig tree in this passage is much more straight-forward than most of his parables. He makes it clear that though we are ultimately waiting for something fantastic and other-worldly, we must pay attention to the signs in this world.
Some of the signs we see will be ones like the trees sprouting and blooming in the Spring and Summer—signs of better days to come; but some signs will be more like the ones Jesus mentions initially in this passage: “on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.” It’s hard not to hear that without thinking of our current world, isn’t it? It’s hard not to think about our warming planet and waters rising more every day, when we read about the roaring sea and the waves. But here’s the thing—Jesus warns us to keep alert, and pay attention to the signs—the signs that tell us something is wrong and that we must remain vigilant and on-guard so we can take action, and do something about these signs, because these things do not necesarrily mean the end. In fact, immediately before this passage begins, in verse 24, Jesus prophesies that fall of Jerusalem, but makes it clear that people should not be confused into thinking that this means the end of the world—but Jesus tells us to “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.”
So before getting pregnant, I was on a really good workout regimen, and it was really doing wonders for my mental health. But when the exhaustion and nausea came on, and I spent a month or so in bed, I got out of that physical activity habit; and while I’m feeling pretty great now, it’s so, so, so difficult getting back into a healthy routine after falling out of one so hard. My workouts have been mostly replaced by naps. I feel guilty about this a lot of the time. It’s easy to feel guilty in this world—a world that shames us for being overweight, for not always eating organically, for not having the ability, the money or the time to do everything right. Just like it’s easy to get overwhelmed by “the roaring of the sea and the waves,” it’s easy to get overwhelmed by society’s ridiculous expectations of us—even if we’re pregnant, or struggling physically, emotionally, or financially, even if we’re just trying to keep our heads about those roaring waves and seas.
I was reading a new little booklet of Advent essays, prayers, and poems, I received the other day, and the introduction to the book had a line in it that really spoke to me. The intro was about how at the beginning of Advent, we are often told to keep awake, to keep alert, to keep watch, to prepare. And then there’s a line that implores us to “trust that sleep is a part of the preparation.” Church, I think this is similar to what Jesus was saying when he tells us not to be weighed down with the drunkenness and worries of this life. He’s not telling us to no worry period—if we didn’t worry at all, it would be clear that we weren’t paying attention. But rather, he's telling us to not let the anxieties of this world completely consume us so as not to get burnt out and break down—because there is hope on the other side, and there is hope in the perfect world to come.
Last year, it was a lot easier to sit and be with the silence and the quiet and the contemplative nature of the waiting that Advent requires of us. It was especially easy for me, I remember, having just moved here a couple months ago from Philly and enjoying the quiet so much. It was one of few vaguely positive things we could take advantage of during lockdowns. But this year, things are a little different—or rather, they’re kind of back to the same old, same old. Despite the continued threat of COVID, holiday air travel is back up to pre-pandemic numbers; consumerist Christmas stress and shopping is even more chaotic than usual, with all the hysteria around supply chain issues; many of us are planning and organizing our schedules around complicated travel plans, myself included. It’s easier than ever to get overwhelmed and forget what we’re waiting for. It’s easier than ever to become drunk with stress and worry and anxiety.
No matter how alert or awake we may be, we can’t be prepared to make this earth as it is in heaven when we’re drunk with worry. We can’t pay attention and help our fellow humans when we’re too preoccupied and weighed down by our world’s materialistic standards, or by the general sorry state of the world. There’s a really tough balance we have to find, a very thin tightrope we have to walk. To be able to pay attention to the signs around us, while not being overwhelmed and weighed down by them, we must also pay attention to the signs within us—within our minds and our bodies.
Be on guard, Jesus says, so we are not consumed by the tumult and turmoil of this world. And we guard ourselves from this by paying attention to the warning signs within ourselves—the roaring of the seas and the crashing waves within our hearts and minds that can make us oblivious or avoidant of the world around us. Now, I’ll admit, this is the pot calling the kettle black here—I’m up here speaking to you all as someone who is very bad at mindfulness; someone who has always struggled with anxiety; someone who has great difficulty quieting the crashing waves in my head. So unfortunately, I’m not up here to give you all some magical advice on how not to be burnt out, or any simple tricks for not letting the troubles of this world overwhelm you.
But the beautiful thing about Advent is that it’s a time of year when we can really reset if we work at it. If we can step back from the noise of the secular parts of the Christmas for a little bit, we can do what Advent requires of us. If we can find some quiet and just sit with it, and gently inspect our lives, as our call to worship implored us today, we can be sure to be aware of the warning signs within us—the negative voices in our head that tell us we’re not good enough; or the despair we may feel when we see a new spike in COVID numbers, or see yet another frightening climate report. I know for me, I start feeling those warning signs when my heart starts beating a little faster, or I feel a twinge in my gut like I’m about to go down a huge roller coaster drop. These signs differ for everyone, it takes work to be aware of what they are for yourselves.
Waiting and preparedness, of course, looks different for everyone too. What has worked for one person, may not work for you. Some people quiet the chaos and sit in the silence by way of contemplative prayer or meditation. Some people binge watch a corny Netflix show—maybe not as healthy as meditation, but sometimes we need to listen to and give in to the needs of our bodies and minds. Some people go for a hike or just simply go outside to reconnect with the natural world. I bake, or I read, or I honestly, lately, sometimes I lay in bed and half-sleep so I can reset and be ready for the rest of the day.
And when we’re rested, we’re ready, and we’re prepared for whatever might come. Whatever might come will not “catch [us] unexpectedly like a trap.” As with the readings the past couple weeks, an initial read of today’s passage can seem scary and foreboding. But we really don’t have to dig too far to realize that there’s a lot of hope here. “…Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near,” Jesus says. Some of the signs will be frightening, some will be reassuring, but no matter what they are, they will lead to a better world—that is, as long as we’re prepared to work for that better world; as long as we’re prepared. And some of the signs within us will be frightening, and some will be reassuring. But as long as we work to be able to recognize those signs, we’ll make it through whatever comes next—sometimes those signs within us will tell us that we have the energy to go out and be with an ailing loved one, or go out and protest some gross injustice; and sometimes those signs within us will tell us that our bodies or our minds are weary, and it’s time for rest.
Church, Advent is a time of waiting and preparing—waiting and preparing for something brand new. So let’s pay attention to the signs both in us and around us; and let’s keep up that work and that hope for a more perfect world. Amen.
