FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT A

[cappie]

The time has come: Advent, a season of preparation. We prepare for a joyous celebration of the good news that our God took on human flesh, became one of us, was born for us, a child. 

But before we get to the manger, at the beginning of Advent every year, our lessons and collect proclaim that Christ will come again to be our judge. We don’t know when Christ will return in glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead.  “Stay awake!” that’s the cry that greets us on this first Sunday of Advent. The season opens not with tinsel and cheer, but with Jesus telling his disciples to be alert, watchful, and ready for something new.

 Jesus, we meet in scripture also seems pretty sure that there’s another coming, another Advent on the way, someday, when Christ will come again. And then, his coming will be unmistakable.  Christ will come in glorious majesty to be our judge. And all our business as usual,  will cease, and we will stand before our Judge. 

And yes, for countless people down through the millennia, the end of life as they knew it has come through death—when the clock stopped for them, as it very well may do for us before that final Advent. With no more chances to make things right, to give, to share, to forgive, to apologize. To let go of our grudges, half-truths, or un-truths. No more chances to walk in the Lord’s ways, to give up our swords and our spears, or whatever we use as a sword or a spear, whatever we use to gain the advantage, to hurt, to keep others at a distance, to engage in wars, real or metaphorical, to wound or warp or wrangle. No more chances to give up words, wealth, whatever -isms work to our advantage (and are weapons just as surely as any sword or spear). No more chances. Time’s up. Maybe when we least expect it. Maybe when we are completely unprepared. 

There we will be before our Judge.

However, here is the good news of Advent: our Judge is also our Redeemer. Our Judge is the very God become incarnate, taking on human flesh, born as a vulnerable baby, who lived and died as one of us, to reconcile us to God, the maker and redeemer of all. Our Judge is the very one who came to set us free from the bondage of any sin, anything that separates us from one another, from being the beloved child of God we were made to be.  

Keeping God’s love and grace and mercy before us can give us the courage to look at ourselves and see all that Jesus has done for us, all the forgiveness we’ve needed and received. The grace of hindsight, of seeing Christ on the cross, of looking at the wounds of Christ, borne for us, allows us the chance to be honest and say that we need the grace and mercy of God. And, thanks be to God, God gives us those very things. 

Our Judge is also our Redeemer.  Pope Francis   lamented sour-faced Christians whose hearts have “grow[n] old and wrinkled” and inhospitable to others.  If we are grim and pessimistic Christians, what does that say about the God we proclaim?  How will others come to experience and trust in God’s love if we are miserable?   The readings for the first Sunday of Advent, remind us of God’s ever-increasing nearness.  The psalmist calls us to “go rejoicing to the house of the Lord” to celebrate God’s presence among us – indeed, we will soon celebrate the Incarnation of God-with-us during Christmas.  We must “stay awake” for God “is nearer now than when we first believed.”  How can we be gloomy Christians if we truly believe that God has become one of us and continues to be with us now?

The Advent of Christ as a baby is a reason for hope. The Advent of Christ as our Judge is good news when we cling to the hope we proclaim,

Advent is a season that sneaks up. The shops have been in Christmas mode for weeks already. Social calendars start filling. Christmas lunch planning is pressing. And in the middle of all that noise, the church whispers, “Wake up. Pay attention. Something new is coming.” 

Staying awake means living with our eyes wide open — choosing not to drift through December in a haze, but to notice where God’s peace, hope, and joy are breaking in. Advent asks us to be watchful people, ready to catch glimpses of God’s kingdom in unexpected places: in conversations with friends, in moments of silence, even in the messy, imperfect preparations for Christmas.

 

Come, Lord Jesus.