Year B – First Sunday of Advent – November 27, 2011
Isaiah 64:1-9; Psalm 80:1-7,17-19; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:24-37
"DIFFERENT THIS YEAR" by the Rev. Janet Waggoner
It could be different this year, we think.
This year, we’ll be on top of things. Shop a little more efficiently than usual. Get the Christmas cards in the mail earlier.
This year, things will be more simple. We’ll buy less – and maybe even try making a few things . . . maybe . . .
I read a story this week about a woman named Lisa (story adapted from Sarah M. Foulger's short story "Yards of Purple"), who decided that rather than doing her usual “favorite aunt” Christmas thing for her four nieces and buying each of them an expensive present, she would make Christmas dresses for them this year. She was proud of herself for buying the fabric well in advance, but as the Fall months rolled by, she got less sewing done than she anticipated. Just as her discouragement in the project hit a peak, she received a check in the mail from her aunt, with a note that said, “Do something wonderful with it.”
Lisa laughed to herself about her sewing frustrations, and drove down to the bank to cash the check. She put the couple hundred dollars in the envelope in her back pocket and headed to ToysRUs. Though she felt guilty about the prospect of wasting all the fabric she had purchased, she felt relieved not to have the project hanging over her head as the round of holiday parties started up. And then, of course, she found that the toy store had exactly the things her nieces had told her they wanted.
It could be different his year, we think.
But then, we waver. We doubt ourselves, our goals, our values. We’re speeding through life at such a fast pace that bumps in the road become obstacles that cause us to swerve off our intended path.
When Lisa got up to the check-out counter, the four gifts – all on sale, she could feel good about that, right? – rang up to just less than the money she had in her pocket, and she thought about how happy her nieces would be to receive the gifts as she reached to hand over the bills. Except they weren’t there. She double-checked her pockets and her purse – even though she knew for certain right where she had put the money. It was gone. A pickpocket? Had she dropped it?
Though she was holding up the line, Lisa quickly retraced her steps into the store. No luck. So she returned to the checkout counter and reached for her credit card to pay for the gifts anyway. But as she did, she had the sense that maybe she should have stuck with her plan to make the dresses. So she said, “thanks, anyway” to the attendant at the checkout counter, who replied: ‘just so you know, this stuff might not be here later; we’ve sold a lot of these.’
It could be different this year, we think.
But the world around us just seems to keep pressing, pressing for more of what’s out there to be in here, in our minds, in our hearts. The good news for us is that it’s in just these places of stress and tension, these places of decision, where Jesus comes to be with us. Personally. Compassionately. Quietly. So quietly, in fact, that if we’re not still, we may not even notice.
And with Jesus, it could be different this year . . .
Lisa was at home that evening, listening to Christmas carols and making remarkably good progress with her sewing, when the phone rang. The man on the phone said that he found some money in the parking lot at ToysRUs, and that he thought it might be hers because the envelope he found it in was addressed to her. He told her that he felt bad keeping it all day, but, he confessed, he had struggled about returning it. He had gone with his son to ToysRUs because his son had begged to go look at the toys so he would know what to ask Santa for. It was a lean year, though, and the man went to the store wondering how ‘Santa’ was going to afford any gift this year.
Lisa thanked him for his honesty and chatted with him about connecting the next day near the local McDonalds to pick up the money – before she found herself blurting out, “Oh, please just keep it. I don’t really need it.” And they wished each other a shy and slightly rushed ‘Merry Christmas’ as the man said breathless thank yous as they hung up.
And then Lisa realized, she had fulfilled her aunt’s wish: she had “done something wonderful with it.”
It could be different this year.
But really, only if we are different. And we likely – won’t – be – different – without – . . . Jesus . . .
I’m so struck by the invitation Jesus gives to his disciples in today’s Gospel lesson . . . Jesus is in a situation where the outcome is predictable. The authorities who have been mad at him for years are going to challenge him again. Each time they’ve questioned Jesus, it’s been more aggressive, so he’s preparing for the same old thing to happen again. But in the midst of the predictable happening, Jesus’ words to his disciples encourage them to “keep awake” for what is new.
The newness of the Living God in the power of His Spirit flows in and through all creation – and is available to those who seek it at all times. We don’t have to wait for Christmas to experience the newness of Christ. It is here, now, for us. And we are enabled to be different and to engage in revolutionary acts of love as we steep ourselves in Him.
In this holy season of Advent, we “keep awake” by:
Keeping silence in the midst of the rattling din, so that we may hear His voice drawing us on.
Being still in the midst of the rush, so that we may receive Him whenever and wherever He comes.
For our Lord does speak, our Lord will come. In glorious and unexpected ways, He will come to save us. And his goodness, light, and power will flow to us and through us, making us – and all things – new.
In this new season, let us choose to be awake – and ready. If we are, it will be different, – WE will be different – this year.
Amen.
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