The text for the first Sunday in Advent always seems so out of place. After all, it’s Advent, it’s the season where we are all eagerly preparing for the birth of the baby Jesus, and the text for the first Sunday of Advent always sounds terrifying. All of the talk of days of suffering, darkened sun, and the powers in the heavens being shaken. At least, read out of context, they sound terrifying. But the word advent means coming into being. This season is not actually about waiting patiently for the historical birthday of a cute baby a long time ago, it is about the long expected promise that Christ is coming to us, today, in the flesh. And when we look around us at the suffering of God’s people in the world today, we probably find that we share in Isaiah’s hope that God in fact would “tear open the heavens and come.” Viewed in that lens, we find that these seemingly frightening texts are not just good news, but deep and powerful hope for us. So let’s take a few minutes now and orient ourselves to both the time of the Gospel of Mark, and to the time in Jesus’ ministry that he was speaking. Because, like all of the Gospels, Mark too is written to function on many levels, on the level of the historical life of Jesus, the level of the disciples who followed after Jesus, and as good news for our own lives.
First let’s look at Mark. Since we’ll be spending the next year with him, it’s good to orient ourselves to his context. The Gospel of Mark was the first of the four Gospels to be written, most scholars date it from during the time of the Roman-Jewish War, between 66 and 70 CE. This was a war so violent that the ancient scholar Josephus described the streets as running with blood. Also during this time the great Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. It is almost impossible to overstate the importance the Temple played in the life of first century Judeans. More than just a place of worship, it was the social and political center of life. And as the center of religious life, that too cannot be overstated. If our church was destroyed, it would be hard and we would be sad, but our faith could survive. After all, as important as this building is, it is in the end just a building. But for the first century Judeans, the Temple was not just a building, it was the literal home of God. The destruction of the Temple called into question the very existence of God. For Mark’s original audience, the line about “the powers in the heavens [being] shaken” was not metaphorical, it was happening before their very eyes with the threat to the Temple.
So when Mark’s audience heard that when the sun was darkened, and the stars were falling, and the powers in the heavens were shaking, then the Son of Man was coming in glory, that news brought not terror but hope. Imagine yourself in their shoes. The uneasy peace that you’ve existed under for so long is over, and Rome, the most powerful force in the entire world is standing at the gates of the city ready to destroy everything you hold dear. Not just your home, not just your family, not even just your life, but even your God, your faith, your source of being, is facing destruction. Imagine that everything you know and love, everything you use to make meaning of this world, is crumbling around you, and then hear Mark say that the Son of Man is coming in glory, and that “he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven.” This is a powerful promise that you have not been forgotten and you cannot be lost. From the four winds, from the ends of the earth and even to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to gather up God’s people. Notice there is no judgment language in Mark’s account of this gathering. The focus is not on what we need to do, it is completely and totally on the all-encompassing, overreaching expanse of God’s power. The sun cannot darken enough, the heavens cannot shake enough, for you to be in a place where God cannot find you.
The same promise holds true when we read it in the time of Jesus’ message to his disciples. Like the reading from last week, this reading is Jesus final speech before the Passion narrative begins. The start of chapter fourteen places this two days before the Passover; we’re two days out from the crucifixion. The disciples don’t know it yet, but they are about to enter a time when it feels like the sun has darkened, the stars are falling, and the powers in heaven are shaken, when they see their leader and teacher handed over to the Romans and put to death before their eyes. And what the disciples won’t know, but we know, is that indescribable truth that Jesus’ death on the cross is in fact his coming in glory. The cross is the place where the power of God is made known; it is from the cross that God gathers up the elect, from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. The disciples wouldn’t believe it for three days, but we can find hope in it now, that the powers in heaven are shaken by the power and the glory and the might of God, who will not allow even death to stand in the way of drawing near God’s people.
It was good news then, and it is good news now. Because all of us can think of a time when we felt the earth shift beneath our feet. All of us can imagine that moment when everything we thought we knew was gone. The middle of the night phone call, the frightening diagnosis, the knock at the door. And all we need to do is look at the paper or turn on the television, and we can see that moment happening in the lives of others. The crisis in Myanmar, the epidemic of sexual assault, the continued growing threat of North Korea, heroin and gun violence in our own communities, we do not have to look far to feel like the sun is darkened and the starts falling, and the very powers of heaven are shaking. And what these first Sunday of Advent texts promise us is that the Son of Man is coming. Not as a soft, cuddly baby, though babies are nice. But the Son of Man is coming in power and glory. The God who formed the universe, who shaped the heavens, and who called creation into being will tear open those same heavens to get to us, to be with us. No matter what is happening in your life, what fear you are holding, what grief you are carrying, what uncertainty you are staring into, the promise of this passage is that you will be gathered up by the Son of Man, because from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to get to you.
So keep awake, the reading from today ended. Keep awake, because we do not know the day or the hour. Read in a single moment in time, this too can seem frightening, keep awake or you might miss it. But think about it throughout the scope of history. The disciples missed it, the first time they saw the Son of Man come in glory on the cross. But that didn’t stop Jesus from rising from the dead. The first readers of Mark probably missed it, when the Temple was destroyed and they wondered if God had been destroyed too, but God was not destroyed and God did not leave them. When bad things happen and heaven feels like it’s shaking, it can be hard to feel the presence of God around us, but this command to keep awake invites us to look for the places where God’s glory is still shining. To even at the grave say Alleluia, because we know that God’s power is still triumphing. As the great theologian Mr. Rogers once said, when we see scary things we can “look for the helpers,” and know that God is still in control.
This text is not just good news for the disciples, who would see God’s glory displayed on the cross. It was not just good news for Mark’s readers, who could watch the destruction of the Temple and know that God was still with them. And it is not just good news for us today, when we feel the earth shake beneath our feet and hold on to the promise of Christ’s victory over death. It is also good news for the future. Because what this text promises us is that God is unshakably in control. We live in the liminal already and not yet, already Christ is with us, and not yet has God’s kingdom come. And this passage declares that God’s kingdom will come. “Heaven and earth may pass away, but my words” this declaration of God’s presence us, “will not.” It is this coming, this powerful, unshakable rending of the earth to come to us, to be with us, that we await this advent season. Thanks be to God, who has not, will not, and will never leave us. Amen.
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