Signs of Life (Advent I), Dec 1

Readings, Luke 21:25-36 and 1 Thes 3:9-13
Image, Gordon Coutts, Waiting (1895)
 
Jesus’ rather striking words in today’s gospel reading arise in response to a question. Having made the alarming remark that the Temple shall be thrown down, he is asked, Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?
 
Jesus’ response has given rise to all manner of speculation about the ‘signs of the times,’ at least in part, because there does seem to be some movement in the focus of the speech. For the most part it explicitly concerns what will come to pass within the generation of those present. The destruction of the Temple at the hands of Roman Imperial violence in 70CE had likely already occurred by the composition of Luke’s gospel and so would be fresh in the minds of Christian communities reading it. For them, the destruction of the Temple further services the understanding Jesus’ own body as the Temple (now ascended and impervious to the whims of imperial violence). Take heart, they might say in the face of persecution, we can be scattered but no distance can ever arise between us and our temple.
 
At the same time, there are sections of Jesus’ response that elude the historical referent. That is to say, Jesus also seems to be speaking of something to come. For the destruction of the Temple happened without Nation rising against nation, without great earthquakes, famines and plagues; without dreadful portents and great signs from heaven. The Temple was sacked, the people scattered, and yet where were signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars? Why did all this happen, and yet the people did not see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory? These loose threads, this excess, lead Christians to take a ‘both and’ approach to the passage. Yes, in the first instance, Jesus responds to the question of the Temple, the “little apocalypse” which will happen before this generation passes away. But that also, in the second instance, Jesus refers to the end of all things, to the great and glorious Day of the Lord, when the judgment and restoration of all things will take place.

Of course, the gesture to the broader apocalypse creates its own set questions – many of which concern signs and portents, and fuel the desire to categorise the stages of history and eschatology. Many a sign, graph, or table has been devoted to the question asked of Jesus: when will this be? Speculation of this kind are complicated in the contemporary context, where there is often an unhelpful conflation of the modern nation state of Israel and the covenantal people of Israel (who exist within and beyond the modern state with a range of feelings and theologies toward it). Contemporary conflict in this region should not be read solely through the lens of precursors or fulfilment of biblical imagery, nor understood only in relation to Christian eschatology. Doing so reduces the promised end to a problem to be solved and in so doing frustrates our compassion and calling as Christians. For the end is not a bingo card to be stamped, but a horizon of hope that shapes the way we live today.

The question of the end concerned the church in Thessalonica. They were so sure the end was coming in their life time, that they were growing concerned about what was going to happen to those who died before Christ’s return? Paul assures them they do not need to fear. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord for ever.
 
And yet, despite attending to the end, the main thrust of Paul’s letter to the church concerns their activity and witness in the present. In the passage we heard, Paul prays that the Lord shall increase their love for one another, that they will be strengthened in holiness until the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints. Later, when Paul writes concerning the times and the seasons, he does not dwell on how one might know when or how, but urges them simply to keep alert and awake. Put on the breastplate of faith and love, writes Paul, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. Having been thus destined, Paul teaches: encourage one another, be at peace among yourselves, and seek to do good to all.
 
Advent is season where we learn once more to hasten and wait for the coming of Christ. As such, Advent readings contain numerous injunctions to keep alert, keep watch, to stay awake and be ready. But what does this look like? For my kids, waiting for someone to arrive means standing at the window with binoculars asking if ever passing car belongs to their friend. Back when I worked in uni chaplaincy, hosting events with no idea if anyone would arrive, waiting consisted of pacing back and forth, looking for a glimpse of recognition (or better yet enthusiasm) from any student who came by! But this eye-straining, patience-testing, anxiety-inducing alert waiting, is not what defines an Advent people.
 
It is not that we forget about the return of Christ or promised end (both vital in an age where hope is so often put to the test), but that we redefine what it means to hasten and wait. It is not stocking up on red twine to string together clues. No, the way we wait is to increase in love and prayer for one another and our world. We stay alert for the coming of Christ in glory by staying alert for the coming of Christ in the least of these. We ready ourselves for the coming of the kingdom in its fullness by seeking first the kingdom on earth. We keep awake to the yearned for restoration of all things by tending to God’s creation in our daily life. We yearn for the day when we shall see God face to face by seeking God’s face in worship, prayer, scripture, and a life of mercy. We wait, in short, by seeking to live as if we are no longer waiting.
 
Jesus’ response in Luke weaves the little apocalypses of this age with the great unveiling of the age to come. Paul’s letter to Thessalonica weaves confidence in what is to come with exhortations for what is needed today. What is to come and what is occurring are related, though this relation is not limited to that of sign and fulfilment. Rather both fall within the concern of Christ (and thus of Christians). After all, Christ’s response is not limited to prediction. He laments that the Temple’s desolation will lead to pain, scattering, and violence visited upon the vulnerable. And as Christ was concerned for that wanton act of imperial violence visited upon his generation, so we should be in ours. For this kind of violence and subjugation has no place in the age to come when swords are beaten into ploughshares. And as Paul was concerned for the grief befalling those who bury their loved ones, so we should be too. For the sting of death has no place in the age to come when every tear shall be wiped from our eyes. To be an Advent people is to view the end not as a problem to predict, but a promise to empower. Alert and awake, we do what little we can to respond to the little apocalypses that befall the world’s vulnerable today, what little we can to increase in love and good deeds for one another and to all. In doing so we prepare ourselves to receive both the Christ child born into oppression and humility, and Christ the King who comes on the clouds with great power and glory at the end of the age. These are signs of life, signs of hope, and to these we cling.