Wait for it...
This sermon was given at our morning Zoom service on Sunday 29th November, the first Sunday of Advent 2020. It was given in the wake (watch for that word) of the 2020 US Presidential elections and also news of three vaccines to help fight the spread of Coronavirus, but also whilst the whole country was in its second lockdown of 2020, with the threat of re-strengthed tiers of restrictions for much of the country when lockdown ended, with tier 3 for Greater Manchester being very very similar to full lockdown itself.
The gospel for this Sunday was Mark 13:24-37.
I think we’re all sick of it now; the waiting.
You can tell when you talk to people; when you queue next to them in those queues outside shops that threaten to go on forever (the queues, not the shops), or when you see parents and children winding each other up in the park, or even when you talk to your own family and loved ones; people are getting fractious and snappy. I know I am. Maybe you’re of better temperament than I, but, if you’re not, I’m sure you’re also showing signs of simply being done with all of this.
Waiting is hard. It’s more than hard – it’s a trial – in the Herculean sense. Like one of that great Greek hero’s twelve trials, we are called to wait, and it is hard work – as those twelve trials of Hercules are also sometimes referred, it is a labour.
That’s an interesting word, isn’t it? ‘Labour’ – ‘work’. But, it implies more than just work; Labour is the act of bringing something forth. It leads to something new; something with infinite potential and possibility; the birth of a baby.
And of course, that brings us neatly to Advent; in which we once again eagerly await Christ’s own birth. Waiting for the birth of a baby; waiting, labour, advent.
Waiting is holy; it is sacred. Throughout the church’s year we spend two seasons and over two and a half months just waiting. Waiting for Christmas, of course, and for Easter. We started this season of coronavirus waiting, at the back end of March, in the middle of Lent, and we – like the whole world – have been waiting ever since. It’s like Lent never ended; it just flowed straight through Easter, overcame Ordinary time, and crashed straight into Advent, carrying us all along in its waiting wake.
And there’s another word – ‘wake’. That’s been another theme of 2020, hasn’t it? To be awake to what’s going on in the world? Movements such as Black Lives Matter have called us all to be woke. Some people see that as an insult, calling those who try to change the tide of justice in the world ‘Social Justice Warriors’, and ‘woke’, as if sleep-walking through life and not causing others to stir from that same sleep is a virtue. Advent is a time for wakefulness, for watchfulness.
Wake up, O sleeper, and rise from the dead and – as the writer of Ephesians states – Christ will shine on you. Christ calls us to wakefulness, to wokeness in our very Gospel today – “Therefore, keep awake – for you do not know when the master of the house will come… And what I say to you, I say to all; Keep awake.”
Wait… and work… and watch… and be woke.
Advent is not just a time of preparing for Christmas; a time to put up lights and trees and prepare for a huge blow-out on Christmas day. It’s not even just a time for us Christians to prepare ourselves for the birth of our saviour. It’s a time to prepare and wait for the second coming of our saviour.
Waiting so far this year has been so hard because it has felt hopeless. It was only a few weeks ago that our prime minister confessed that we might need to prepare ourselves for the fact that there may never be an antidote to this virus that has brought us all to our knees this year. Waiting without hope is horrible. It is awful. But in these last two weeks, hope has resurfaced; not one, not two, but three vaccines have emerged, with the promise of some people receiving them even before Christmas. And at the same time as that, changes in the United States promise more hope for those who felt fear and trepidation under the Trump regime.
These secular prophets of hope help point us to something greater. If the inevitability of the prevalence of this virus can be beaten; if the rising threat of racism and fascism can be overcome against all odds, then what of the greatest hope – what of Christ’s return? This is our hope, and, this Advent, bolstered by a resurfacing of hope in the world, it becomes tangible.
And so, this is our Advent call – wait, with renewed and refreshed hope for the return of our Saviour.
Watch, with woken eyes, for signs of his return.
And work – work to bring hope to the hopeless, to help them wait. Work for a world that is prepared for Christ’s return.
Work… and watch… and be woke… and keep waiting.
Wait with hope.
Wait…
Amen.
The gospel for this Sunday was Mark 13:24-37.
I think we’re all sick of it now; the waiting.
You can tell when you talk to people; when you queue next to them in those queues outside shops that threaten to go on forever (the queues, not the shops), or when you see parents and children winding each other up in the park, or even when you talk to your own family and loved ones; people are getting fractious and snappy. I know I am. Maybe you’re of better temperament than I, but, if you’re not, I’m sure you’re also showing signs of simply being done with all of this.
Waiting is hard. It’s more than hard – it’s a trial – in the Herculean sense. Like one of that great Greek hero’s twelve trials, we are called to wait, and it is hard work – as those twelve trials of Hercules are also sometimes referred, it is a labour.
That’s an interesting word, isn’t it? ‘Labour’ – ‘work’. But, it implies more than just work; Labour is the act of bringing something forth. It leads to something new; something with infinite potential and possibility; the birth of a baby.
And of course, that brings us neatly to Advent; in which we once again eagerly await Christ’s own birth. Waiting for the birth of a baby; waiting, labour, advent.
Waiting is holy; it is sacred. Throughout the church’s year we spend two seasons and over two and a half months just waiting. Waiting for Christmas, of course, and for Easter. We started this season of coronavirus waiting, at the back end of March, in the middle of Lent, and we – like the whole world – have been waiting ever since. It’s like Lent never ended; it just flowed straight through Easter, overcame Ordinary time, and crashed straight into Advent, carrying us all along in its waiting wake.
And there’s another word – ‘wake’. That’s been another theme of 2020, hasn’t it? To be awake to what’s going on in the world? Movements such as Black Lives Matter have called us all to be woke. Some people see that as an insult, calling those who try to change the tide of justice in the world ‘Social Justice Warriors’, and ‘woke’, as if sleep-walking through life and not causing others to stir from that same sleep is a virtue. Advent is a time for wakefulness, for watchfulness.
Wake up, O sleeper, and rise from the dead and – as the writer of Ephesians states – Christ will shine on you. Christ calls us to wakefulness, to wokeness in our very Gospel today – “Therefore, keep awake – for you do not know when the master of the house will come… And what I say to you, I say to all; Keep awake.”
Wait… and work… and watch… and be woke.
Advent is not just a time of preparing for Christmas; a time to put up lights and trees and prepare for a huge blow-out on Christmas day. It’s not even just a time for us Christians to prepare ourselves for the birth of our saviour. It’s a time to prepare and wait for the second coming of our saviour.
Waiting so far this year has been so hard because it has felt hopeless. It was only a few weeks ago that our prime minister confessed that we might need to prepare ourselves for the fact that there may never be an antidote to this virus that has brought us all to our knees this year. Waiting without hope is horrible. It is awful. But in these last two weeks, hope has resurfaced; not one, not two, but three vaccines have emerged, with the promise of some people receiving them even before Christmas. And at the same time as that, changes in the United States promise more hope for those who felt fear and trepidation under the Trump regime.
These secular prophets of hope help point us to something greater. If the inevitability of the prevalence of this virus can be beaten; if the rising threat of racism and fascism can be overcome against all odds, then what of the greatest hope – what of Christ’s return? This is our hope, and, this Advent, bolstered by a resurfacing of hope in the world, it becomes tangible.
And so, this is our Advent call – wait, with renewed and refreshed hope for the return of our Saviour.
Watch, with woken eyes, for signs of his return.
And work – work to bring hope to the hopeless, to help them wait. Work for a world that is prepared for Christ’s return.
Work… and watch… and be woke… and keep waiting.
Wait with hope.
Wait…
Amen.
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