A Hopeful Perspective [Advent 1C - Luke 21:25-36]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Luke 21:25-36

 

A hopeful perspective

St. John’s, Cohoes, NY

 

My family has only rather recently started watching the Marvel movies.  These blockbuster superhero films have dominated the cineplex for more than a decade, but my boys were mere toddlers when the franchise was really hitting its stride.  Now that they are growing into their teenage years, we are slowly catching up.  And I must admit that watching the films more than a decade after their release does temper some of the tension.  One worries less about Tony Stark’s fate in the first Iron Man film, when Iron Man 2 and Iron Man 3, featuring Tony Stark, have already been famously released.  You have a pretty strong sense that he will make it through the first round of danger when you know he stars in the sequels. 

 

And that knowledge breeds hope.  When it looks like everything is hopeless, like the hero is facing impossible odds, like the future is entirely bleak, we know that, somehow, things will work out, good will prevail.  Perspective is a catalyst for hope – for the Williamsons on movie night and also in today’s Gospel. 

 

At first glance, Jesus is not painting a very hopeful picture.  In fact, the future he is foretelling feels ominous at best.  There is distress among the nations.  The sky is in disarray; the heavens are shaking.  The sea and its waves are in a state of strange upheaval.  The citizens of the planet are crippled by fear; the sense of foreboding is causing people to faint in the streets.  The headlines are so distressing that desperate folks turn to the bottle for solace and stupor.  The worries of life are simply overwhelming.  It is a bad scene. 

 

And one that has been all too familiar in the centuries since Jesus spoke.  The planet and its people have lived out this prediction countless times.  Our human history is littered with wars and plagues, with natural disasters and unexpected catastrophes.  The headlines continue to drive distress and despair.  Anxiety is an epidemic.  It is hard for someone who is weighed down to raise up their head – and so many people are weighed down.

 

That is why Jesus’ message is so timeless.  There is no sugar coating on this Gospel passage, because life is not sugar coated.  This world has jagged edges and harsh realities.  And we know that because we live in it.

 

And Jesus knows it because Jesus lived in it too.  He witnessed pain, disease, disaster, and heartache.  He listened to stories of distress.  He dined with the oppressed and the marginalized.  He touched lepers and loved the friendless.  He wept with the mourning and cried for those crushed by the cruel demands of the political system.  He saw it all.

 

And he lived it all.  Jesus knows because he experienced the jagged edges of this world firsthand.  Jesus came in the name of love and faced intense opposition.  He was taunted and teased.  He was belittled and berated.  He was arrested and convicted and sentenced to death.  Jesus was weighed down with thorns and held up with nails.  He lived the fullness of life on earth until he met his death.

 

And then Easter happened.  We joined this story after that death lost its strong, on this side of the Resurrection.  And so we only see Good Friday through the eyes of a happy ending.  That perspective is a catalyst for hope.  We know that in the story God is writing for this world, somehow, things will work out, good will prevail.

 

At first glance, Jesus is not painting a very hopeful picture in this Gospel.  But Jesus knows how the story ends; he knows that destruction, despair, and death do not get the final word.  And so this bleak vision is actually a song of stubborn hope.  The waves are crashing, but redemption is drawing near.  The sky is shaking, but the Kingdom of God is coming.  People are sick with worry and weighed down by distress, and yet Jesus compels us to stand up and raise our heads high.  Because God has a dream that is far more powerful than the nightmares of this world. 

 

This season of Advent tells us that it is God’s dreams that come true.  Life can be hard.  Bad news is lurking in every nook and hiding in every cranny.  God knows, Good Fridays do happen in this world.  But the story does not end on Good Friday.  When life feels hopeless, hope steps out of the tomb.

 

This is our story.  This is the story that shapes our lives.  This is the story that allows us to dream in those places where dreams go to die.  This is the story we shout into the pit of despair.  This is the story so important that we stamp onto the souls of our children. 

 

It is this story of hope, audacious hope, that allows us to stand, sometimes with trembling knees, against the despair and hopelessness of our age.  It is this story of hope that endows us with the courage to raise our heads and face the storms of this life.  It is this story of hope that we gift to young Christians like Micah and Addie, so that they are equipped with the strength of love, so that they are able to smooth out the jagged edges of this world with the tender power of mercy.

 

The seas will roar.  The skies will shake.  But do not lose hope.  Advent reminds us that the end is near.  And that means, it’s just about to get really good.