Lk 21:25-36
30 November 2003
1st Sunday of Advent
“The Sky is Falling”
I’m using for a sermon title a well-known phrase; it is, in fact, the frightened exclamation of a certain Chicken Little. There are some variations to the story, but they all begin with an acorn—an acorn which comes plunging from far above and strikes Chicken Little (plop!) on the top of her head. She cries in alarm, “The sky is falling! I must go tell the king!” So off goes Chicken Little, encountering along the way such individuals as Henny Penny, Goosey Loosey, and Turkey Lurkey—not to mention the infamous Foxy Loxy, who’s more interested in satisfying his hunger than in assisting Chicken Little in her quest to see the king!
Today’s gospel reading might have us thinking that Chicken Little was onto something. The description of “signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars” sounds like everything’s going to be coming apart. Some people may think that stuff is already coming apart.
Today’s the first day of the Christian new year, as well as the season of Advent. Advent is as much about the second coming of Jesus as it is about his first—as the baby in Bethlehem. The idea of a returning messiah has been a theme of various religions and mythologies the world over.
Take, for example, the Aztec belief that the god Quetzalcoatl would someday return to them. When Hernán Cortés arrived in Mexico in the early 1500s, it seemed that the prophecy had been fulfilled. He had come from the east—from the sea—just as Quetzalcoatl was to do. However, when the Spanish started killing the Aztecs, it became pretty clear that Cortés was not their savior!
When it comes to addressing the second advent of Jesus Christ, it seems to me that there are two extremes among interpreters. On the one hand, you have devourers of raw meat. And on the other hand, there are the sippers of milkshakes. (I probably should add, this image came to me a couple of weeks ago, just as I was about to fall asleep. So if it doesn’t make sense, I’ll blame it on that!)
The devourers of raw meat are those who relish, those who positively exult, in laying before others a vision of universal horror—of fire and brimstone raining down upon the earth. They’re like wild animals. They lick their lips as they predict the savagery of Armageddon.
The sippers of milkshakes, however, are the ones who want to explain away all of this untidy business. They approach the matter in a more…delicate fashion. They dismiss both the horror of cosmic disaster and the euphoria of a returning Savior as empty superstition.
Not surprisingly, I think a middle path is the right way. Though I personally do not consume raw meat, I do prefer my steak cooked to no more than medium rare! And while I rarely drink milkshakes, I do like sweet things. For example, I avoid Grape Nuts, but will select Frosted Mini-Wheats! So, laying aside this talk of consumables, maybe we can come to a better way of living as we look to our Lord’s return.
Our gospel reading is part of a passage that goes back to verse 5, as some folks are “ooh-ing and ah-ing” over how beautiful the temple is. I don’t suppose many of us have ever been in a temple. Banu and I have been inside the model of a temple. There’s a full-scale replica of the Parthenon in Nashville, complete with a giant statue of the Greek goddess of wisdom, Athena.
In the scripture, Jesus proceeds to pour cold water on the admiration of the temple. He tells those who are simply agog over its beauty that “the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” (v. 6). Not one stone will be left upon another. That won’t leave very much to admire! Besides the destruction of the temple, Jesus speaks of other things to come: false messiahs, the fate of Jerusalem, and the events of today’s reading, which is divided into three sections.
The first part, verses 25 to 28, is what might have people saying, “The sky is falling!” Besides the disturbances in the heavens, there’s a reference to what’s happening on earth. Confusion will be caused “by the roaring of the sea and the waves” (v. 25). The sea and the waves: they are symbols of chaos. “People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world” (v. 26). We’re looking at truly scary stuff.
I suppose many generations could identify with this. Case in point: in the mid-fourteenth century, a pandemic of bubonic and pneumonic plague (alias the Black Death) swept through Europe, killing about one-third of the population. It was commonly believed that the end of the world was at hand. For many people, it was. Still, who knows what the future holds? As human technology improves, we develop alongside it the ability to unleash ever greater horrors on each other.
Despite all of that, we aren’t to do imitations of Chicken Little. Verse 28 says “when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads.” Stand up and raise your heads—even if it does seem that the sky is falling. Why are we to do that? “Because your redemption is drawing near.” That’s the response of the faithful, as opposed to the faithless: those who look for the Lord’s return, as opposed to those who dread it or dismiss it altogether.
The second part of our reading, verses 29 to 33, includes a parable taken from nature. Besides the image of the fig tree, Luke includes “all the trees,” addressing as he does a wider Gentile audience, many of whom may not be familiar with fig trees. When they sprout leaves, summer is near. In the same way, when the signs of the preceding verses appear, the kingdom of God is near.
The third part of our reading contains warnings. They call into question the way the large majority of Americans live their lives. Verse 34 says, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.”
In his paraphrase of the Bible, The Message, Eugene Peterson renders it this way: “But be on your guard. Don't let the sharp edge of your expectation get dulled by parties and drinking and shopping.” What’s his deal? He’s like the model for Gov. Schwarzeneggar’s line in Kindergarten Cop: “I’m the party pooper.” Doesn’t he know that on the Friday after Thanksgiving we’re supposed to start running up our debts by purchasing all kinds of junk?
Friends, there is a better way to spend Advent. We can actually prepare for the coming of the Lord, instead of blindly obeying what the commercials tell us to do. Of course, this would also mean that we actually pay attention to the message of Advent.
B. D. Prewer speaks of those who, in effect, only recognize the first advent of Jesus by wanting to ignore the season of Advent and race ahead to Christmas. “If you don’t believe in the Final Coming of Christ,” he says, “then I suggest that you don’t really believe in his first coming of the true Child of God. They are inseparable as thunder and lightning…If they are not inseparably linked in our faith, our Christmas activities are in danger of becoming a sentimental excursion into fantasy.
“Unless we see Christ as the Alpha and Omega, the One who will certainly come again, then Advent and Christmas can be a brief sentimental diversion; time out from the hard suffering and desperation of this world. It may offer a bit of temporary escapism. But mere tinselled sentiment will not provide a liberation for anxious souls who fear they are living in doomsday times.”[1]
The world doesn’t need the church to mimic its empty portrayal of Christmas. The world needs the church to be the church. (What an extreme concept!) What I mean is: the world needs the church to show that there is a better way. Too often, it seems to work the other way around!
One way to put these thoughts into a question—and by the way, just in case you haven’t figured this out by now—I like to ask questions. At least as important as having the right answer is asking the right question. That’s how we get the right focus. So, what does it mean, in Advent 2003, to wait for the Lord?
Verse 36 gives the warning, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.” The New Jerusalem Bible renders that last phrase as “to hold your ground before the Son of Man.” How do we hold our ground? What does it mean to be on guard, to be alert?
How do we look for the second advent of Jesus, even when the sky is falling? Or even, when the roof is falling? One way of living as we look to our Lord’s return is seen by how we use money. And that’s one subject about which Jesus has plenty to say. At the last session meeting, there was a good bit of discussion about the future of Westminster: both the physical future of the building and grounds and the spiritual future of the membership and ministry.
Some churches actually require offerings that equal a tithe (that’s ten percent) of one’s income. Some require at least 5 or 7 percent. I’m not fond of such constraints. My feeling is that if we belong to Christ, if we love the Lord, then we’ll want to do our best. Still, during our recent stewardship campaign, there was little response to even the 3 percent option.
Obviously, people have different levels of income, so 3 or 10 percent for different people results in different amounts of money. It’s like the gospel reading from Mark 12 earlier this month. The poor widow who gave a penny did a lot more proportionately than the rich folks did, who made huge donations. Only God knows if we’re doing our best—if our priorities are right.
But what better time is there than during Advent to make sure our priorities are in order? What better time is there than during this holy season, when our culture calls us to worship at the shrine of the shopping mall and of Wal-Mart? Is it asking too much that we not dig ourselves a canyon of debt? Whose birthday is it, anyway?
Still, looking for the Lord’s return isn’t simply a question of dollars and cents. We may be told that we should be piling up the trinkets, but as the scripture says, even “heaven and earth will pass away, but [the] words [of Christ] will not pass away” (v. 33). We look for the Lord’s return in a million different ways—ways that don’t have price tags and ways that won’t simply turn to dust.
Our final hymn today, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” is one not likely to be heard in the mix of marketing music this time of year. Maybe it’s not upbeat enough; maybe it doesn’t whip anyone into a shopping frenzy. But I submit that it has a lot more to do with looking to the Lord’s next advent. Hear the final stanza: “O come, Desire of nations, bind / All peoples in one heart and mind; / Bid envy, strife, and discord cease; / Fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.”
There’s one to sing when the sky is falling!