Facing the End of the World: An Advent Sermon

It was the end of the world.

At least, it seemed that way. In 70 AD, the Jewish temple and the city of Jerusalem were sacked by the Roman Empire. The temple was burned to the ground, and the accounts that survive tell a story of terrible carnage. The survivors of this final battle were taken in chains to Rome as slaves. Countless people had died. Jerusalem, the great city, lay in ruins. The Jewish nation was no more--their homeland destroyed and multitudes exiled.

Our gospel this morning, from Matthew, was written in the shadow of this great community trauma. The people who first read our gospel today had likely faced this siege. And so Matthew, more than any other gospel, talks about what it means to face the end of the world.

So, just as we start listening the Christmas carols and buying gifts for our friends and family, our Advent readings start with the end of the world. It really gets you in the holiday spirit, doesn’t it?

But, honestly, it is an interesting place to start. Because, have you ever felt like the world as you know it was coming to an end? Like everything is going ok, going as planned, just before your whole world crumbles? Like those people in Jesus said were just minding their own business--eating, drinking, getting married, living life--and then (boom) the flood comes. I wonder if that is what it felt like for the folks in the Philippines not too long ago when that great typhoon hit.

In our time, in a time of great change and uncertainty, I think we feel even more strongly that we are facing the end of the world as we know it. So much is changing and it doesn't always seem to be changing for the better. Ever notice that so many of the new movies coming out are about the apocalypse? Whether by zombies or by nuclear holocaust, they are filled with images of the end of the world.

I am told that Aberdeen was once a thriving city, though I don't remember it. In my lifetime, I have only seen the slow decline of the local economy as the timber industry crashed. So many people lost a way of life. We have faced the end of the world as we knew it.

Sometimes the end of the world is more personal. We lose someone we love, someone who was the center of our world, and it feels like the world is ending. I know it felt that way for me when I lost my grandfather years ago. 

And sometimes change, even natural change, even good change can feel like an ending. We are losing Fr. Dale as our priest. Its not the end of the world, but it is an ending. As happy as we are for him and as strong as we will continue to be as a church, it is in a sense the end of his ministry here as we have known it. It will be an interesting Advent for us, a time of waiting, of expectation, and a time of loss too.

This is Advent, the beginning of the church calendar, the beginning of the church year. We celebrate it in a time when our days are getting darker and our weather is getting colder. Harvest is over and hunting season is over (unless you hunt with a bow). We see the sun less and less and our days grow shorter and shorter.

It is a time of waiting. Waiting in the darkness. Waiting for what the prophet promises-- the Sun of Righteousness to rise with healing in his wings. Waiting for the baby to be born in the manger, in the stable, in the barn; the testimony that God is indeed with us. Waiting, as Jesus tells us to in this gospel, waiting for the Son of Man to come in glory, which is our great hope.

Because, God meets us at the end of the world. When our homeland is destroyed and we are living in exile under Roman occupation, God meets us. When we look around and see the world changing and are afraid, God meets us. When we walk through the streets of our town and wish that shops didn't keep closing or that we could find some way to imagine a better future, God meets us. When we remember those we have loved and lost, God meets us. God meets us in the person of Jesus Christ, who entered our human experience. God meets us in Emmanuel—God with us.  

So, this Advent, we wait for hope. We wait for a baby born in a barn to save the world. We wait for the Sun of Righteousness who arises with healing in his wings. We wait for the sun to rise again, as it always does, and the days to grow longer, as they always do. We wait for the one that Matthew introduces to us, in the very beginning of the gospel; “The people who have sat in darkness have seen a great light. On those who dwell in the region of the shadow of death, on them the light has dawned.”

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Every year, with more or less success, I try to have an advent practice. That is, a devotional or a prayer practice that helps bring me into this season and time of waiting and expectation. This year, I want to share this practice with you and invite you to join.

I have been so grateful for the opportunity to come back home to the harbor and to do ministry here. I have met some of the best, some of the kindest people here. I am privileged to say that I am from the harbor.

 I also know we have faced some hard times here. I am reminded of just how hard things are for some people when I hang out under that bridge down the street and see so many people camping along the Chehalis River. Sometimes it can look like the end of the world.

This Advent, for the next four weeks leading into Christmas, as we wait for hope, as we wait for the baby born in a barn--I will pray for the harbor. I will pray remembering the beauty and gifts of this place. I will pray remembering the losses we have experienced. I will pray for hope. I will pray for the in breaking of the kingdom of God in our midst. 

I invite you to pray with me! Lets pray for our town and for our county. In the depth of winter, lets pray for the Sun of Righteousness to rise with healing in his wings, to rise upon us, to give us hope and a future.

I invite you to pray with me. I invite you to meet God at the end of the world.