ADVENT SUNDAY
After the sermon below, there is a further talk by Stephen about the Advent Wreath.
Listen to audio version:
Readings: Romans 13: 11-end and Matthew 24: 36-44
“You must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
“Wake up and smell the coffee” was a colloquial phrase made famous by the American writer Esther Lederer – perhaps more in use in the U.S.A. than here. One interpretation I’ve seen is “to face reality and stop deluding oneself.”
Today is Advent Sunday, a season of preparation and expectation before the great festival of the nativity of Jesus. In the epistle reading just now, St. Paul says to the first-century Christians in Rome, “Brothers and sisters, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.” On the cricket field, you sometimes see the captain clap his hands and shout out ‘Come on guys’, especially if the action has gone a bit quiet and the overs are ticking by. The fielder at long off hasn’t touched the ball for hours, the batsman is blocking for a draw, and the game is drifting. The captain wants to sharpen things up and induce a measure of urgency. “Wake up and smell the coffee.”
Now St. Paul, writing around AD 50 or 60, was probably expecting the return of Jesus soon, however that might take place. There was a general belief amongst those early Christians that Jesus would soon return and bring the age to a close. That’s why Paul says, “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.” In the event, it didn’t happen, of course. But it is still the Christian belief that Christ will eventually return to bring in a new age of peace and righteousness, where God’s rule will be realised fully.
Now if you are expecting something momentous or important to happen in your life, you would want to make the necessary preparations, and to be ready, alert, and at your best for whatever occasion that is. So St. Paul urges the Christians in Rome to get their act together, to lay aside what he calls ‘the works of darkness’ and to ‘put on the armour of light.’ If we knew exactly when our train to Birmingham would appear, we would not need to be on the platform until a minute or two beforehand. But often with delays and unforeseen incidents, we do not know. So how do you remain alert and expectant when, after 2,000 years, Christ has not returned?
The gospel for today urges not last-minute preparations, but continual, alert readiness for Christ’s appearing. Noah is mentioned for the only time in the gospels. As in the days of Noah, says Jesus, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage – in other words, just ordinary days, with maybe not much thought for God. There was no warning that the flood was coming which would sweep them all away. And that flood was not just a weather phenomenon, but a sign of God’s sorrow and regret – he said in Genesis that he was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth. Noah was saved because of his righteousness, but the episode raises questions: does God really punish the wicked without pity, as seems the case in much of the Old Testament? Jesus seems to give a different message. He highlights the arbitrary nature of natural disaster, and the destruction that it inflicts on humankind. He says, “Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and the other left.” So, be ready; keep God constantly in your thoughts and prepare. Because ‘About that day and hour no-one knows … only the Father.’ The promise – and warning – of God’s future is meant to bring on neither helplessness nor complacency, but rather energy as befits people of the day in a world that thinks it’s still night. The waiting of Advent is not passive.
I was greatly saddened by the death four years ago of the MP for Sidcup – my old patch – James Brokenshire. He was an excellent constituency MP, always about the town, visible and approachable, supportive of the local churches, and one of those people who would give you his full attention when you were speaking to him, even when his staff were trying to move him on to the next appointment. His daughters were in the Air Training Cadets for whom I was chaplain, which is how I came to know him a bit. James contracted lung cancer just after I left Sidcup. He stepped down from his ministerial post as Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, but later after treatment came back and was appointed Minister for Communities and Local Government. Sadly the cancer returned in an aggressive form and this time there was to be no remission. The reason I’m relating this tale is that the writer of James’ obituary in The Times said that after he came back from his first bout of cancer ‘he was a man in a hurry to get things done.’ Possibly James sensed that his time might be short. Some might have opted for an easy life, but James was driven by a sense of purpose and responsibility. It seems to me that Advent should accost us in the same way.
There seem to be three elements to the Advent season: we think of how Jesus’ coming into the world to save us was foretold by prophets like Isaiah, as always being part of God’s plan for the world. We think of how Jesus comes to us and challenges us every day, each moment of our lives being an opportunity for good, for doing our bit to make the world a better place. And thirdly we recognise the reality that one day, however you like to think of it, we will face God – which could be both a joyful and challenging prospect.
So we look neither helplessly at a dark and sleeping world, to use some of St. Paul’s imagery, nor should we think complacently that we, the Church, are all right as we are. Our responsibility is to wake people up to the truth that Christ’s light is already shining, and that God, the judge of the nations is alive and active, longing to see his justice and peace enfold the world.