"wake up!"

anna blaedel
first umc, osage
november 30, 2008

first sunday of advent
sunday of LIGHT

Isaiah 64:1-9
Mark 13:24-37

Let us pray: Have thine own way, God, have thine own way. Thou are the potter, we are the clay. Mold us and make us, after thy will, while we are waiting, silent and still.

On Thanksgiving eve—violent attacks consumed Mumbai, formerly called Bombay, India—at least 150 dead, over 370 wounded—machine gun and grenade assaults—hotels, a train station, a Jewish center, a hospital and movie theater—the places we go for shelter, safety, security. Ripped open.

Written in the New York Times “Even by the standards of terrorism in India, which has suffered a rising number of attacks this year, the assaults were particularly brazen in scale and execution.” A life where terrorist attacks are becoming common place, where terror tears through our ability to relate, to see God among us.

Sajjad Karim, a British member of the European Parliament, told Sky News: “A gunman just stood there spraying bullets around, right next to me.” Before his phone went dead, Mr. Karim added: “I managed to turn away and I ran into the hotel kitchen and then we were shunted into a restaurant in the basement. We are now in the dark in this room, and we have barricaded all the doors. It’s really bad.”

Mumbai—13 ½ million people—place of culture and community—a public library built in 1833—the birthplace of India cinema—government funded art exhibits open to the public—a national park—economic opportunity—coffeehouses and exquisite restaurants—places of worship centuries old—churches and temples and mosques.
And darkness, despair, devastation, death.

“In those days, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light and the stars will be falling from heaven and the powers of heaven will be shaken,” cries the gospel.

Lest we think we are far removed from this violence—I e-mailed another United Methodist clergy member who I see at various conferences and denominational meetings. He is from Mumbai. He lives and ministers in the US. His family is still in Mumbai. He cannot get in contact with them. Does not know whether they are alive or dead. Knows they are terrified, in the middle of darkness, despair, devastation, death.

“I can do nothing but pray,” he said. “And wait. I am waiting for God’s light to flicker in this darkness.”
We are a world, and we live in a world, desperately in need of a coming light.

People, look East, the time is near…

O come, O come, Emmanuel, in ransom captive Israel…

Advent…today the liturgical season shifts from Ordinary Time, to the Extraordinary time of Christmas…God becoming Flesh, to dwell among us. Advent, a time of prayer and preparation…preparing our lives and homes and world for God’s coming, Christ’s birth into our lives, Christ’s light shining into our desperation and despair.

Advent invites us again, now, to receive the Christ child anew. In our hearts. In the places we least expect to find light, the places we need it most.

Keep awake, implores the gospel writer. “Beware. Keep alert. You do not know when he will come.”

We don’t know the exact moment. Unlike Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, the biggest shopping day of the year, where a promised opening at midnight, 4 am, or 6 am has people lining up for hours to spend money we don’t have on things we don’t need in a global economy that can’t sustain it and an environment that can’t take more packaging and plastic, let alone discarded purchases from last years spending fury.

On Black Friday, a Walmart employee was trampled to death by the mobs of people hungry to consume and wanting to buy. Trampled to death. By greed. Unwillingness to wait. Single regard for stuff. Black Friday, indeed.

In Advent, we are not promised a time. We have to wait. And prepare. Left longing, in darkness, desperate for a light to shine the way.

Advent. A star shines, lighting our way to God. If a star shone in our sky, lighting the way to the Christ child, would we notice? It is far too rare, I’m afraid, that I take the time, make the time, to look up, to look out, to look in, for God’s light shining.

Could we even see the star amidst the mega watt billboards about borrowing and buying, the big screen and flat screen tvs isolating us in our homes and feeding the lie that the latest gadget or newest show or flashiest fad will sustain us?

Is a star shining in our sky, lighting the way to the Christ child? Stop. Turn off our computers and tvs. Look.

The prophet Isaiah cries out—“We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you…”

O Come, O Come, God with Us… Will we call on your name? Attempt to find you in this season of frenzy and chaos? Allow you to find us?

Light the candle, for the waiting has begun… We have started on our way…Candle, candle, burning bright, shining in the cold winter night; candle, candle burning bright, fill our hearts with Christmas light…

The gospel reading this morning is an apocalyptic text. About the end times. There is so much suffering everywhere. Devastation, destruction, death and despair. The world must be ending, what else could be possible?

It’s hard to find a flickering light. It’s almost easier to adjust to the darkness, become accustomed to destruction. To ignore the devastation in Mumbai. To forget the violence in Fallujah. To tame down the terror in Afghanistan. To overlook pain or poverty in Osage. To turn away from or numb down the pain and fear and anxiety in our own hearts. “But in those days,” proclaims the gospel, “after that suffering, 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.” And then.

And then. And then… When hope has almost left us. When suffering seems solidly to stay. A light will flicker. And then the longing, the preparation, the anticipation, has begun…

And then, in it all, the good news. “Yet,” says Isaiah. In spite of all of this…In the midst of all of this. You are our God. We are the clay, and you are the potter. You form us and shape us and breathe life into us and light our path for us. Not only do you create us, you then come to us. You find us when we fail or forget to look for you. You declare us your people, and then come to dwell among us and fill our lives with your light.

A flickering light does not eliminate darkness. But, neither can darkness eliminate the light.

When we lead lives of opulence and safety, we have only illusions of who we are.

And when we create illusions of opulence and safety, we forget who and whose we are.

And when we forget who and whose we are, we become unable to love and be loved.

Because we are scared. Because we are preoccupied. Because we are addicted. Because we are isolated. Because we isolate ourselves. Because because because. But. And.

As people of faith, we are promised: Isolation does not have the final word. Fear does not have the final word. Economic crisis does not have the final word. War does not have the final word. Darkness does not have the final word. “Keep awake! Keep alert! You do not know when the time will come. But know, the time is coming!”

God is being born, anew. God is choosing, once again, to become flesh. Choosing to enter this world to offer hope. To come into the darkness of death and despair, and shine, shine, shine, a light to guide our way. A flickering light to restore our faith in God’s eternal flame. Beware! Keep alert.

A light is shining. Do you see it? Wake up! Look!

Light the Advent candle, one: Now the waiting has begun; we have started on our way…

Our preparation has begun. Our anticipation has begun. Hanging lights and finding wreaths and trimming trees. Sending cards and remembering traditions and creating memories. And. Each week, here at church, an invitation each Wednesday from 5:30-6:30 to share a meal, practice fruitfulness, and prepare for our faith community’s future. An invitation each Thursday from 6-6:30 to prepare spiritually, a service of contemplative prayer, meditation, music, and scripture.

Stop, and sink into this season. Look into the turbulence, the terror, in our hearts and in our world, and then dare to search for that flickering flame. Wait, not passively, but with longing. Prepare a way for Christ in this world so desperately in need. Wake up! Stay alert! God is coming! Love and Light Incarnate being birthed into our lives, anew. Amen, and amen.