Expecting [Advent 1A]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Isaiah 2:1-5

Expecting

Folks do tend to confuse the seasons of Advent and Lent. It's understandable; it is not hard to do. There are some clear similarities: they both end in the same sound: -ent; some churches use the same liturgical color for both seasons; at this parish we worship in old-style language only during the two seasons of Advent and Lent; and both are often, unfortunately, greatly overshadowed by the feasts they precede: Christmas and Easter. And so when people ask me to explain the difference between these two seasons, and that has happened many times in my decade of ordained ministry, I always say the same thing: “It is the difference between preparing for a death and preparing for a birth.”

I have prepared for a birth – a couple of times actually. I know that time. That pregnant time is unlike any other time. The days, so filled with expectation, seem at once to move too slowly and too quickly. You wait for the dream to finally become the reality and yet, all the while, know that once that dream comes true things will change, all of the routines and rhythms upon which you have come to rely and in which you take comfort, will quite suddenly be stripped away. And while those thoughts fill your mind, they are yet unable to push away that persistent, nagging thought that everything is so fragile – as if all the hopes and dreams might just suddenly dissipate and never come true.

And in that time, that heavy time, you wait. You wait because you have no other choice. You wait in a tension of hope and fear, of joy and heartache, of loss and gain. And while you wait, because waiting is an unavoidable requirement, even for those who lack patience, you get ready.

You get ready because the birth is coming, and it is coming at an unexpected hour. I know this too. Both of our boys came earlier than expected – three and three and half weeks before their due dates.

But we were ready. Well, at least our house was ready. We had prepared a place. We cleared away from the nursery those things that formerly filled the space. We hung up tiny clothes; we organized diapers; we installed tamper-proof electrical outlets; we put together a crib – a crib that would one day cradle the dream that grew in my wife's belly.

And make no mistake, that dream, that tiny baby we would name Oscar David, was the only thing in the universe that would fit in that nursery; he was the only thing that could be cradled in that newly assembled crib. There was only one thing that would make our dreams come true. Nothing else would do.

The word “advent” means “to come.” And as we gaze upon images of the Blessed Virgin Mary, with her protruding midsection, we are reminded that what is coming is Christmas – the Nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ is how we say that in really church-y language. The Advent wreath, our calendar, tells us that our commemoration of the Incarnation draws near. 4, 3, 2, 1.

But today's Scripture readings, the readings that mark the beginning of this new Church year, of this new Church season, remind us that Advent is not only focused on a coming that has come. The pregnancy is not over; this time, the time in which we live, is still pregnant with hope and longing. We are still waiting.

Advent is not only Christmas' preseason. During the days of Advent we are reminded that we are still waiting. The birth of Jesus was the prophetic dream come true. In that little child, hope was fulfilled. And yet, if we are honest, in our hearts we still dream of what is yet to come. We still long for a better world, a world that more closely resembles heaven. We still hope with the prophet Isaiah for the day when “they shall beat their swords into ploughshares; and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” We are still waiting for that dream to come true.

We are still waiting in Advent. We're still waiting for thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. We are still waiting for Jesus' prayer to come true.

In this season of Advent, we wait. We wait because we have no other choice. We wait not just for the wreath to run out of wicks, not just for the presents to appear under the tree, we wait for Jesus. We wait for Jesus to come and finally turn the nightmares of this world into God's best dream. And we realize that though this season is only four weeks long, our lives are lived in Advent – a season of longing. We wait in a tension of hope and fear, of joy and heartache, of loss and gain. We stubbornly hold onto the hope that peace and love, goodness and mercy, will one day finally overcome the brutality, hatred, and violence that dominate our news feeds. We wait for Jesus' prayer to be answered: on earth as it is in Heaven. And while we wait, because waiting is an unavoidable requirement, even for those who lack patience, we are called to get ready.

We are Noah. We are building an ark for a flood that looks unlikely. God is calling on us, calling us to get ready, to prepare a place, to make room in this world for the Kingdom of God, to get this world ready to accept the coming of Christ – the Christ who was killed by this world the last time he came.

And so there is work to do. And the work is not easy. Neither will it be met with universal approval. There is a reason we are not there yet; there is a reason we are still in the preparation process. There are people who recoil at Isaiah's dream for the world; there are people who prefer swords and spears to peace; there are those who get rich on the spoils of war. There are people and institutions who thrive on hatred, cling to prejudice, live for conflict, revel in violence. Grinding the poor and the addicted into the ground, is a very viable business plan. For those who rely on this world's many and varied vices the return of Christ is a huge inconvenience. The coming of the Kingdom of God is bad for business.

And if we are honest, even those of us who desperately long for the return of Christ and the coming of his Kingdom do so with trepidation. Birth is never painless – even when it is greeted with abundant joy. We at once long for the dream to finally become the reality and yet, all the while, know that once that dream comes true things will change, all of the routines and rhythms, vices and quirks upon which we have come to rely and in which we take our comfort, will quite suddenly be stripped away. And even those most anxious thoughts cannot drown out the nagging doubt that lingers in back of the mind: this longing feels as fragile as does its realization seem unlikely – as if all the hopes and dreams of our Advent lives might just suddenly dissipate and never come true.

And yet, in our heart of hearts, we believe that into our fragile, desperate longing, despite our anxiety, despite our secret doubts, Jesus comes. That's just how it is with pregnancy: the dream for which you wait feels obscure and tenuous until it comes. You live and prepare always with the stubborn faith that hope will come true.

And we prepare, not just because something is coming, as if any old thing will do; we are sent out into this world not to simply keep us busy or distracted. The dream that we dream is not of slight tangible improvements in our society. We dream bigger. Our hope is not in elected officials or well-crafted legislation. Our hope is in Christ. Our dream is of a world in which there are no more nightmares: a world in which war and violence are no more, in which division and hatred have no place. Our dream is for no more tears, no more pain, no more death. Our prayer is that this impossible dream will be this world's reality. We are Advent people. This is for what we are called to prepare. This is the kingdom come for which we are bold enough, crazy enough to pray.

During the pregnancy, those days of waiting and working expectantly, there is only one thing in the universe that will fit in that nursery; there is only one thing that could be cradled in that newly assembled crib. There is only one thing that will make our dreams come true. And so it is with Advent. And so it is with us Advent people. We are expecting God's dream to come true. And nothing, nothing, nothing else will do.