December 1, 2024
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott
Luke 21:25-36
As I was thinking about this Advent text, I went to my file of sermons written to look up the sermon for last year’s first Sunday of Advent. I was surprised to find out that a year ago, we had apocalyptic texts. At first I thought I had my lectionary years mixed up, but no—last year, we had apocalyptic texts from Mark (the same reading we had two weeks ago), and this year, we get similar imagery from Luke.
If you leave church today feeling slightly confused, I don’t blame you. We’ve got a Chrismon tree, but no Christmas carols. The calendar says it’s December, and here we have a Gospel reading that might be more appropriate for Lent, with Jesus trying to tell his disciples what is coming their way.
It’s an interesting question, and one that theologians still wrestle with: what is the Gospel writer of Luke trying to do with this scene? Is Jesus warning his disciples about his own crucifixion? Or is he giving them insight into some later time of doom? And is he talking about doom or the restoration of the reign of God?
And back to us, as a congregation, who might be saying, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute.” In some ways, we’re so very different from the audience who first read the Gospel of Luke—many of them would remember the destruction of the Temple that Jesus seems to predict. Many of them might be expecting Jesus to return physically in their lifetime—those first generation Christians likely longed for Christmas too, the second Christmas of Christ’s coming..
We are not so different, those first followers of Jesus and our 21st century congregations. Through the generations, we’ve had to learn to live in the in between times. Our Bible readings for today remind us that the long view is far longer than many of us might like.
In our Christian congregations, when we hear about the reign of God that Jesus proclaims, we think of this inbreaking of the Kingdom, the community, of God as beginning with Jesus. But Jesus and the early believers were Jewish—the ones who wrote our New Testament texts would have been steeped in much older timelines, timelines that would tell us that God has been at work in the world for thousands of years before Jesus makes an appearance. Our reading from Jeremiah today reminds us that God is a God of covenant. The arrival of Jesus doesn’t end that covenant—no, the arrival of Jesus expands that covenant.
The words of Jesus tell us of the scope of the promise. The world as we see it is not the finished creation. God did not create perfection and then leave humans to wreck it—although that is certainly part of a theology that is supportable from the Bible. But it is only part.
God does not leave humans alone in the wreckage. God has not abandoned us for a better creation that God made after this one that we live in. The writer of the Gospel of Luke was addressing those early Christians who survived the uprisings that led to the destruction of the Temple and the expulsion from ancestral lands—texts like today’s Gospel try to answer the question: “What happens now? How do we continue to live?”
Think of those first century Christians who have heard the Good News that Jesus proclaims: a new world is emerging, where the lowly will be lifted up, the powerful will be made to share resources. And yet, that’s not the world we see around us.
As we move through our Advent texts, we may feel the same kind of jarring disconnect. We live in a society that has been celebrating Christmas for months now, if the store displays are any indication; indeed, on this first Sunday of Advent, many Christmas items are reduced. We live in a world where many people can’t afford any of this holiday cheer, no matter how deeply reduced it is. We do not see the poor lifted up. We do not see the powerful brought down. Indeed, it seems that with every passing year, the powerful make gains, perhaps through their connections, perhaps through their talents, perhaps through activities that would send ordinary citizens to jail. Meanwhile ordinary citizens struggle just to make ends meet.
How do we survive in these in between times? We know the promises that God makes. But the fulfillment seems so far away.
Our non-Christian culture, not surprisingly, would tell us that we survive by making purchases: maybe it’s a fancy vacation or some other item on our bucket lists. Maybe we console ourselves with our favorite foods, or maybe we’re a bit more selfless as we buy gifts for others or make donations to worthy causes. But unsurprisingly, Jesus has a different approach to the question of how to survive in the in between time. We stay alert, and we watch, and we pray.
I’ve read today’s Gospel text many times, but this year, it lands differently with me. Jesus tells us that we’re living in difficult times that are about to get much more difficult. He’s talking, most likely, about Roman oppression that’s about to get much, much worse, while my brain goes to global warming and a bird flu that’s in the process of becoming much more transmissible. In this autumn of disruptions and unexpected crises, it’s not hard to see signs of coming apocalypse all around us.
At the close of this year of upheavals and coming chaos, verse 34 lands differently. In this time of crisis, what does Jesus recommend? “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.”
That’s what Jesus tells us: Don’t let our hearts get heavy with all these worldly worries. Maybe you, like me, are saying, “Great, that advice again. So, Jesus, tell us exactly how to do that.”
This year, like past years, I’m seeing Jesus tell us to pray. But this year, I’m interpreting the fig tree differently. I started thinking about the fig tree in this passage, when I took a walk with a pastor friend who is also preaching on this text today. She was planning to focus on the tree, who continues making its way through the seasons, even when the world is falling apart. In the face of apocalypse, the fig tree produces leaves. Instead of a harbinger of doom, the way I’m prone to see it in this text, it can also be seen as a harbinger of life.
And that’s the larger message of this passage. Jesus tells us over and over again that the world may be falling about, and we may feel like we’re sitting in the ruins of everything that’s good. But this wreckage can be a sign of better times ahead. Jesus tells us not to focus on the wreckage, but to remember the promise of God, who is at work in the world, creating beauty where many of us might only see brokenness. God is at work, like that fig tree, sprouting new life, even as old world orders crash to a close. God invites us to be part of the new life, a branch on a tree that is far from dead.
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