Theological Truth: The Advent of Christ’s kingdom requires a posture of faithful and active waiting.
Episcopal priest and author King Oehmig tells the story of a young seeker who journeys a great distance to ask a wise rabbi a question that has been burning within him. When he gets there, the young inquirer gets right to it. “Teacher, why is that in Scripture we are taught that God is love, and yet so much of what I see in the world contradicts it—wars, famines, disease, and death?”
The rabbi ponders the question for a few moments before responding, “Do I hear you saying that you could make a better creation than God?” The young seeker is momentarily confounded, possibly offended, before stuttering, “Well…I, I …. suppose so.” To which the rabbi says, “So begin.” (Beyond the Words, Xlibris, 2004, p. 14)
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday of the Church’s liturgical year. And so we begin. Again.
Like that young seeker, it is certainly understandable for us to have questions about the amount of pain and suffering we see in the world, in our country, in our own community and in our individual lives. Like many of you, I was heartened by the ceasefire in the Holy Land this week. I was encouraged by the scenes of hostages released, prisoners freed, and families reunited. The thought of humanitarian aid flowing to desperate human beings made me hopeful. And then just like that, almost with a shrug and a yawn, the carnage resumed—human beings reverting to swords rather than plowshares, picking up spears instead of pruning hooks. How long, O Lord? Oh, that you would tear open the heavens and come down! How long? And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?
People of faith in every age have asked such questions. Jesus addresses it in two ways. First, he says the kingdom of God will come. “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.” In the fullness of God’s time, God will set things right. Creation will be restored. Humanity will be reconnected to God and one another. And this kingdom will have no end.
But Jesus goes on to say, “But about that day or hour no one knows.” We know what will happen, but we don’t know when it will happen. Oehmig describes it this way: “Advent begins in darkness. But it ends in light. And we occupy the ‘twilight’ in between…We are promised a certain ending, but at an uncertain time.” (p. 14)
So, in this meantime, we begin. Again. But we don’t do it all, and we can’t do it without God.
Those are the instructions Jesus gives his disciples living in this twilight time. Beware and keep alert. Do the work that the homeowner gave each of us to do. Our job is to keep doing the work that has been given to us. Don’t take over the work given to others. Don’t over-function, and don’t under-function. Keep awake. He’s not saying that we shouldn’t do anything, so much as we shouldn’t do it alone. He’s certainly not saying we should give up, so much as we should give what we can. But always with a holy humility based on Isaiah’s wise and accurate reading of humanity: “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.” (Isaiah 64:6)
And so…we begin. Again. Even though—if we’re honest—the longer we wait, the harder it is to do the jobs we’ve been given to do.
Br. Geoffrey Tristam of the Society of St. John the Evangelist recently wrote about the difficulty he faced in his early work as a priest during the “Troubles” in Northern Ireland. He wondered, “How could I, with integrity, preach about a God of love and justice when every night I watched heartbreaking pictures of death and destruction on the news?”
Br. Geoffrey got his answer by working with youth from both sides of that seemingly intractable conflict. He worked for an organization that brought Protestant and Catholic students together for summer gatherings. He says, “At first, kids from the two schools would stare at each other with a mixture of hostility and curiosity. But then, slowly, they began to talk and share with each other, to have fun together at the swimming pool, to discuss their experiences and learn from each other, to organize birthday parties, to pray together, to fall in love with each other. Their lives were changed, and so was mine.”
Years later, Br. Geoffrey reflected on that experience, “I learned that God is not absent from the chaos but is right in the middle of it. God was there, without any doubt, fully present and working with and through men and women of good will, to bring healing and hope.”
We may not know when the pain of this world will end, but we know how it will end. And even now, God is right in the middle of it with us.
Br. Geoffrey goes on to say, “Newly ordained and faced with a world of chaos and violence, I spoke angrily to God: ‘You made the world, God. What are you going to do about it?’” Sounds a lot like the seeker mentioned earlier, doesn’t it? Br. Geoffrey admits, “In truth I still feel anger and incomprehension at times. The ongoing sight of such pervasive human suffering still leaves me bewildered and silent. When I watch the news now and see the terrible suffering of the people of the Ukraine, when I hear the heartbreaking tally of victims of gun violence, when I see and feel all around me the consequences of our voracious abuse of the environment, it still leaves me feeling bewildered and silent. But that I can still preach about a God of love and justice is largely thanks to my time in Northern Ireland. I learned many things there, perhaps most fundamentally that I was asking God the wrong question. Not, “What are you going to do about it?” but rather, “What are we going to do about it?”
What are we going to do about it? We’ll keep doing the work we’ve been given to do.
We will walk in Love.
We will practice kindness.
We will show mercy.
We will live and serve generously.
We will keep alert for the dawning of the kingdom.
We will walk humbly with our God.
This is the work we’ve been given to do. And so, we begin. Again.
— Fr. AJ Heine, Rector, Trinity Episcopal Church of Staunton
First Sunday of Advent, December 3, 2023
Readings: Isaiah 64:1-9; Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:24-37
