Wake up!

Wake up!

I can think of this phrase being used toward me in two distinct ways. Firstly, my mother shrieking at me – desperately berating me for not getting out of bed sooner, the constant nagging (oft-realised) fear of lateness. I’m reminded of the time my Mum burst into my bedroom at 3.20am (yes…AM) to startle me awake – I’d missed the rendezvous with the school exchange trip leaving for Switzerland. We were due at school for 3am….quickest morning I’ve ever had. Have you ever overslept? Struggled to rouse yourself from deepest recesses blissful slumber? My colleagues and I have to be in chapel for 7.30am each day – the latecomers do not go unnoticed!

Then secondly, I can think of people’s response to my naïve assumptions about the world and its workings. My idealistic naiveté getting in the way of accurate assessment – met with the words, “Wake up, Rolf! Get real!” A real call to understanding and right thinking.

All humans are similarly called in these ways. On the one hand we’re asked to be alert, to be present, to be ‘on time, whilst also being reminded to understand and see things for how they really are. Wilful ignorance is one of the greatest threats to humanity – we allow ourselves to be told, to be spoonfed and be misled. And our diets of consumerism and individualism lead to drowsiness and slumber. We are, if you will, asleep on the backseat while we let someone else drive the car.

This is why the great Advent cry is of such importance to our spiritual (and therefore whole) wellbeing.

Jesus spoke in stark terms about the future of humanity. He painted a bleak, depressing image of the world:

“On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity”, and “your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap.” (Luke 21:25, 34)

When we look at the world today we are immediately struck by the confusion and pain. How do we respond to such ‘reckless hate’ seen in the attacks across the world, the suicide bombers? How do we tackle the threat of violence? With more violence? And what are we protecting? A consumerist madness where we worship sales and bargains and deals? At what further cost, when the leaders of the nations are assembling to consider climate change and the ongoing damage to the environment? Violence. Consumerism. Poor stewardship.

But before we get the impression these ‘evils’ somehow exist outside of us, in the great beyond, out there, in ‘other people’, let us be clear that this same evil that grips the hearts of others, grips us.

We too have angry, rage fuelled thoughts. I get incensed at the slow driver, the poorly organised queue in a coffee shop, the disruption to sleep.

We too are driven by individualism and consumerism. I’m prepared to buy books from a website knowing that its employees are treated as nothing more than cattle – just so I can save a few pounds, or worse, get it sooner. I am willing to dehumanise someone just so I am not inconvenienced?

We too are poor stewards. The food I throw away. The clothes that are replaced. The unethically farmed meat. The heating left on all day. The lights not turned off. The hospitality not gifted. The love not offered.

 

That is why Advent is a penitential season. For it is only when we wake up and see both the state of our hearts and the state of the world that we truly see the need for a Saviour.

Advent is not a make believe season. We don’t pretend to be Jews waiting for their Messiah. It is not a preamble to Christmas – it is the real deal – it is about God working in our lives.

We need a Saviour now!

 

So Advent is most especially about preparing our hearts to hear afresh the wondrous news that God HAS COME. Much like in Lent, where despite knowing we live in the shadow of the cross, we use the time to prepare for a fresh sense of awe and wonder at the mercy and grace God poured out in and through the cross, so Advent must also be a time where we are prepared. We come to acknowledge our desperate brokenness.

And yet, it is also, most profoundly, about an acknowledgement of the world’s brokenness.

This is the root of the cry, ‘Come, Lord Jesus’. We don’t pretend we’re living two thousand years ago, watching and waiting. We look on our 21^st century world and sigh in pain and sorrow.

We try to bring something of God’s Kingdom to those around us. We believe the Kingdom of God is within us, is growing, is glimpsed at in the loving relationships around us.

But, O Lord, we are also painfully aware that God’s Kingdom is not yet here.

 

Advent then forces us to pray, with increasing fervour and intensity, “YOUR KINGDOM COME!”

 

And he will!

 

Jesus speaks about the future return of the Son of Man:
‘²⁵ “There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. ²⁶ People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. ²⁷ At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.

²⁹ He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. ³⁰ When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. ³¹ Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.” (Luke 21:25-27, 29-31)

These words “concern the true eschatological event, the coming of the Son of Man, which…is the “fulfilment” of the kingdom of God, the moment when God’s rule becomes definitive.” (Johnson, 1991, p.330)

The waiting game though, is hard. The Parable of the faithful and wise manager (Luke 12:42-28) reminds us that one temptation is to ‘beat the servants and to eat and drink and get drunk.” I was profoundly struck when I heard my placement incumbent suggest that the obsession with eating and drinking around Christmas is a form of (false) worship. We are to rejoice and celebrate – but not in and for itself.

Another temptation is to despair – the seed that has fallen but whose life is choked out by life’s worries – the ones who don’t mature (Luke 8:14). Jesus himself says, “³⁴ “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. ³⁵ For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth.” (Luke 21:34f.)

So what are we to do? How are we to use Advent as a time to reflect on our personal need of a Saviour, but also a time to look for God’s return?

Jesus says:

²⁸ When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Praise God! We are called to worship!

³³ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

Be Confident! We are promised His continued presence.

³⁶ Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.”

Watch and pray! We are called to wake up!

 

And yet…let us be reminded of the great Advent prayer: Come, Lord Jesus!

We are not praying that we might be better able to effect God’s kingdom – we look for God to move. This is why the words of Isaiah are so redolent:

“Awake, awake, arm of the Lord,

    clothe yourself with strength!

Awake, as in days gone by,

    as in generations of old.” (Isaiah 51:9)

 

May we all, this Advent, be awoken to worship and prayer.

May we all, this Advent, cry together, “Lord Jesus, Come!”

Grief or Gladness: the dilemma of Easter Saturday

I’m always confused about how to behave on the big feast/holy days through the year.

I am unhappy to ‘pretend’ to be an Israelite waiting for their Messiah, or a Shepherd hearing the angel’s good news (Advent and Christmas). We live in the aftermath of Jesus’ incarnation and we are in fact waiting for his return.

But I also appreciate the power of re-enactment. The nativity play somehow keeps the story alive, it reminds us of the cost. Buy also, Nativity plays are quite cute.

So imagine how I feel about Holy Week?!

In an even more profound sense, the faux-mourning and pretend grief get up my nose a bit. Why do we play-act at sadness? We live in the aftermath of Easter…that joyous defeat of death.

Furthermore, the reading from John 2 on Easter Saturday (I do prefer the moniker ‘Holy Saturday’ or ‘Silent Saturday’) drives this point home:

“18 The Jews then responded to him, “What sign can you show us to prove your
authority to do all this?” 19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and I
will raise it again in three days.” 20 They replied, “It has taken forty-six
years to build this temple, and you are going to raise it in three days?” 21 But
the temple he had spoken of was his body. 22 After he was raised from the dead,
his disciples recalled what he had said. Then they believed the scripture and
the words that Jesus had spoken.” (John 2:18-22, NIV)

The disciples had been told there would be a middle day. They just hadn’t remembered. But we do??! We know what follows Saturday.

So shouldn’t we actually be rather more upbeat about all this? Why mope about as though we had been abandoned by Jesus – let down, etc. Once we pass Good Friday shouldn't we get rather more excited - like the anticipation of a long-awaited film, or the return of a long-travelling loved one?

Perhaps; perhaps not.

But in truth I’m rather glad we re-live the grief. For, for in truth, as many commentators suggest, we find solace in Easter Saturday because our own lives are marked by great sorrow and sadness, abandonment and confusion. There is comfort in knowing God is comfortable with silent tears.

I think, however, we must remember Paul’s injunction in 1 Thessalonians to “not grieve as others who have no hope” (1 Thes. 4:13). We grieve with hope.

And this is perhaps why Easter Saturday is the great climax of Lent. The last day we use the Lenten liturgy.

After spending time during Lent meditating on our sin, we find ourselves in Holy Week reading from Lamentations which suggests we should respond in silence (Lam 2:10), penitence (2:10), weeping (v. 11, 18), crying out to God (v.18 – much like the Psalmist in Psalm 142, the morning prayer psalm for Easter Saturday), a sense in which we come and pour our heart out before God (v.19). This is no play acting. And yet is precisely the range of activites we imagine the disciples engaging in. We come on Easter Saturday and sit in our own place. We now know Jesus is resurrected, but this understanding also makes us realise our part in his death – it was not a failed political venture, but a great act of mercy.

I am constantly, throughout Lent, repeating in worship and in private prayer the great cry from Hosea: “Come, let us return to the LORD.”

There is great promise in Hosea – that God will heal, bind up, revive, raise up, but also that he’ll appear and come. (Hosea 6:1-6)

This Easter Saturday – knowing the full extent of God’s mercy – Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again – we may be moved to tears – that he did all this for me. In my sin, my own most grievous sin – he did all this for me. So perhaps my tears aren’t just from grief, but gratitude too.

The end of Advent

And so we reach the end of Advent...in a flurry, in a maelstrom of wrapping paper and tinsel. It's such a shame.

We start with the Advent cry...O Come...and maybe end with the whispered plea, 'Let it end!'.

Many of us can't honestly say when we switch into Christmas mode. For some, Advent is entirely about preparing for Christmas - after all we have Advent Calendars? For others it starts with decorations, or the first mince pie, or the office party, or the finish of school, or the first carol service...many differing views, but what seems clear is that it is virtually impossible to cling resolutely to Advent as distinct from Christmas throughout all four weeks - at some point we forget this season and focus on the next.

Now please don't think I'm trying to be some sort of liturgical Grinch...I think it is important to present opportunities for Christians and non-Christians to prepare for the celebration of Jesus' birth.

But when the season becomes increasingly focused on the past rather than the future, then I fear Advent loses its penitential flavour.

I have read, every year for the last decade, a book by Patrick Cowley, 'Advent - its liturgical significance'. I love Cowley's straightforward style and I will doubtless refer back to this often in coming years, but, for now, one quote:

"Because of the unpredictableness of the end, [we] must live under the impendingness of it, and be ready to encounter it. This means that, particularly in Advent, [one] must be alert to his true self, and examine his spiritual stature in order to know whether he is growing in grace or evil. It is for this reason that the Advent season is a penitential one."

The last day of Advent is Christmas Eve. The evening prayer readings for the day are still Advent readings, and I am struck by the choice of Revelation 1:1-8. This is the prologue to John's vision of the end. It deserves quoting:

"To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood, and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen.

“Look, he is coming with the clouds,”
and “every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him”;
and all peoples on earth “will mourn because of him.”
So shall it be! Amen.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.”" (Rev. 1:5-8)

Let me ask - at the end of this Advent are you more aware of your need of a Saviour? And are you more eagerly awaiting Jesus' return? Are you clearer than ever why Jesus came: first to save, and again to reign? Do we see the sin that clings to us, and to the world. Do we echo the Advent cry - Come, Lord Jesus!

I hope you have a brilliant Christmas - enjoy it - feast - be merry and celebrate - life needs moments of joy and sharing. But I do hope and pray that Advent has drawn you closer to God.

The following is an Advent hymn I've never sung before - but hope to in future. It perhaps more than any other carol has in both hands Advent and Christmas. I hope it stirs you to seek the indwelling presence of Christ.

When came in flesh the incarnate Word,

The heedless world slept on,

And only simple shepherds heard

That God had sent His Son.

When comes the Savior at the last,

From east to west shall shine

The awful pomp, and earth aghast

Shall tremble at the sign.

Then shall the pure of heart be blest;

As mild He comes to them,

As when upon the virgin’s breast

He lay at Bethlehem.

As mild to meek eyed love and faith,

Only more strong to save;

Strengthened by having bowed to death,

By having burst the grave.

Lord, who could dare see Thee descend

In state, unless he knew

Thou art the sorrowing sinner’s Friend,

The gracious and the true?

Dwell in our hearts, O Savior blest;

So shall Thine advent’s dawn

’Twixt us and Thee, our bosom Guest,

Be but the veil withdrawn.

Tomorrow, I come...

"Heaven and earth shall flee away, when he comes to reign"
"We shall see him; but in heaven"
"Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth"
"Cast out our sin, and enter in"
"Fit us for heaven"

We sing these words lots this time of year...

Seriously, we do!

Amidst the frankly romanticised and misty-eyed images of little towns, mangers, sheep and babies we sing, in our carols, some profoundly challenging words. Our Advent carols often carry dark images of Jesus return, but we can overlook the references in the traditional Christmas carols too.

And I think this is entirely appropriate...

Advent (for we are still in it) is a penitential season. But somehow if all I do at the end of the season is pretend that I'm an ancient Jew longing for a Messiah, or merely observing (in song) Jesus' nativity (like Harry Potter in Dumbledore's pensieve) then how, precisely, am I minded to penitence? We must remain fixed on the dual vision of Advent - both of Jesus' coming.

From 17th December, at evening prayer (vespers) before reciting the Magnificat (Mary's song of praise from Luke) the 'O Antiphons' are used. I blogged about this here. These antiphons focus on aspects of Jesus' nature, names he is given. The acrostic phrase, 'Ero Cras', means 'Tomorrow I come'...

Careful meditation on the theme of Christ's return drives us to consider themes of judgment, heaven, hell, resurrection...and naturally our own preparation.

We sing of being ready for heaven, for a life cleansed of sin. With Christmas but one week away, I will spend some time thinking (briefly) about each of the names of Jesus from this acrostic, and how we might be prepared for His return.