Today's Sermon: Cutting it close today

"I Don't Do Windows"

I suppose you are probably wondering about the windows hanging all around. What do they have to do with Advent or Christmas or anything really? Well it all started with the painting that is on the cover of the bulletin today. It is a painting by Salvador Dali, which if you know his work it is probably his later work and it is very different than this rather tame painting. It is called Girl in the Window. Phillip, Gini and I planned the services for the season together. And after we read all the texts for this season we began looking through various resources that I had. One of which is a coffee table book that I have used before in various ways. It is on display in the back. And on the first day for this Advent we came across this painting. And it seemed to take off from there. We started thinking about hanging windows from the space, and it took asking one person to find a whole assortment of windows. And then as I was searching for another poem by Wendell Berry I found the entire collection titled Window. Window. And it seemed to be rich for our exploration of the season.
As you all know windows are used for both looking in and looking out. And this season is all about what is inside or here already, and what is outside or not yet. During the season of Advent we begin retelling a story that has already happened many years ago. It is a story of prophecy that pointed to a young girl and her espoused traveling to Bethlehem and having a baby that they would name Jesus. It has shepherds and magi and angels. And that story happened 2000 years ago. That story is read in houses all over the world on the night that we celebrate a birth. That story is retold when we put up a tree in our homes and lights in our windows It is retold when we unwrap again the individual pieces of our nativity scenes that are crafted out of wood or paper or ceramic. And we once again try and figure out just how we are going to suspend that angel up over the manger.
And yet what we find in our advent texts is not this story. There are no stars in this story, at least not yet. As a matter of fact in today's gospel lesson the stars have fallen out of the sky. This advent story is about something that hasn't happened yet. It is about something out there, beyond the horizon. It is the story of an apocalypse. A second coming. Or better still an end to the world as we know it. The story Linus in the Peanuts cartoon tells begins with "and there were shepherds abiding in the field…." This one begins, "But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give it s light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." This is not the story that can be told by some animated character. Or at least not the way I've heard it. The apocalypse is something that is scary. Well when I was growing up it was frightening for those who had not become Christians. But there was also the fear that perhaps I had done something that would prevent me from being taken up in the clouds with Jesus. I would be …duh, duh, duh…left behind. And I did not want to be left behind. And I have to say that even the idea of just being taken up in the clouds was a little frightening to me as a child. I remember a friend of mine had in their house a painting that was a depiction of the second coming. It had Jesus at the top of the painting in a cloud. And he was looking down on a city. And the scene was of car crashes and abandoned vehicles and then humans flying up out of their cars to meet Jesus in the sky. Which reminds me of my favorite bumper sticker, "In case of rapture, can I have your car?" And while that is funny to me now, as a child the apocalypse was no laughing matter. So in a story that ends with angels proclaiming to shepherds to "fear not." What does this Gospel story have to do with Advent?
Well it helps to start by looking at the context in which Mark’s gospel was written. Most scholars agree that Mark was written before Matthew, Luke or John, somewhere around the year 70. These were troubled times for the early believers. In Rome, Nero had initiated a campaign of terror against Christians, and soon after that the Romans completely quashed a Jewish rebellion. Violence and persecution abounded; things were not going well.

On top of all that, the one they believed had come to change their fortunes, their Messiah, was long gone. Before getting the death penalty, which wasn’t exactly what they had hoped for in a leader, he had promised he would be right back. And for a while, against all odds, they believed him. They didn’t make any long range plans. They focused all their energy on waiting for his return. They had, to use some big words from seminary, an “apocalyptic eschatological expectation.” The professor who taught me those terms told his students if we ever found ourselves losing a theological argument, we could instantly regain the upper hand by saying that phrase loudly and with confidence: “Apocalyptic Eschatological Expectation!” Big words, but it just means people thought Jesus was coming back soon, gathering faithful believers into his kingdom.

But now, decades after Jesus’ death, things were looking pretty grim. Most of the people who had actually seen Jesus had died. The stories being told about him were now mostly hearsay, not firsthand accounts. People were discouraged and finding it hard to find faith. The urgency and expectation that marked the believers’ lives decades before had diminished. It is in this context that the gospel of Mark is written.

In this situation, it’s not enough just to recount the story of Jesus. As one of my favorite preachers and writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it, the authors of the first gospels had to “tell it to people who were frightened and tired of waiting—people who desperately wanted to know whether Jesus’ delay was part of the master plan or whether he was missing in action.” The answer they are given, not just in Mark, but included in Matthew and Luke as well, is this “little apocalypse.” In it, the people are assured that Jesus will indeed return with such power and glory that the very order of the cosmos will be disrupted—the sun and moon will be darkened; the stars will fall from the sky. Jesus will return, he promises, during the lifetime of his listeners. But, he adds, no one really knows when it will happen, not even Jesus himself. Only God knows, so don’t waste your time trying to calculate the day. And don’t get discouraged. Just pay attention every day, and be ready. Keep alert, stay awake, pay attention.

So in this context this apocalypse was not a story that brought about fear but instead hope--a hope that had been obscured by too much fear and too much time and well too much of everything. They thought the messiah would bring about an end to the war and violence that was being inflicted on the world. And instead that was not happening. They were still suffering and still being persecuted. And what Mark is saying is that this too will pass. So wake up. There is hope. This is a hopeful story. No need to lie down and die, never to wake up to living.
And that is what we have done isn't it? We have taken a story of hope and turned it into a story of loneliness, anger, despair, and fear. Think about it. The story of a baby born to bring good news to all people, has become a season that many of us dread. I mean not only is this often a season of real loneliness and depression for people, but it becomes for many a real chore. So many people say things like I can't wait for the holidays to be over. It is so hectic. We go from party to party. We have to get out the Christmas cards. We have to bake the cookies. We have to buy gifts. And in this time of economic crisis it is even more of a trial. All we have to do is look at the tragedy that happened at the Wal-mart store on Friday when an employee was trampled to death all so that the hordes of shoppers might get a deal on a plasma TV. We call the day after a day that we give great thanks as black Friday. The day that we point to as the official kick-off of the holiday season in the commercial world is seen as a day of chaos.
So it does seem appropriate that we turn to this "little apocalypse" as an introduction into this season. Because it invites us to reframe the story. To look not to despair and fear and chaos but instead to hope. It invites us to wipe away the cobwebs and the dirt from our windows. And look out not with anxiety but instead anticipation. With anticipation as I believe this woman is looking out the window in this painting.
But in order to look out the window we have to discover what it is that is blocking our view. What are the cobwebs? What is the dust? What are the smudges? What has turned our season of hope into a season of despair? Scott Cairns' has this great poem titled Advent: ("Advent," Compass of Affection, Scott Cairns.)

What is on your window? What is this one candle we lit illuminating for you? Let us take this moment, this day to wake up. To be alert. To notice. To notice what is lurking around our windows, our minds, our hearts. Amen.