Sometimes I think that we are living in a time and in a culture in which we are starved for hope. Even before Thanksgiving, people are putting out their Christmas decorations in places and already we all have heard White Christmas, I’ll be Home for Christmas, and a spate of other Christmas tunes much too much. And then there are the Hallmark Christmas movies already present with more waiting in the wings. The Christmas movies that we know in advance will always have some form of a happy ending. We are starved for hope and for Hallmark endings.
And then… Then we turn the page on a liturgical year and arrive at Advent 1 and year C. What do we find? In the midst of cloudy weather and falling temperatures around here, we find the stern stuff of prophetic warnings in which hope is present, but also in which hope is surrounded by judgment, warnings, and anxiety producing warnings.
Maybe we should skip Advent. Troy Truftgruben is Associate Professor of New Testament and Biblical Theology at Wartburg Seminary in Dubuque. In facing down our first Gospel reading in Year C from Luke he writes:
Eschatological (end-time thinking) discourse is a polarizing thing. On the one hand, Christians have used texts like this to make specific end-time predictions based on spurious connections to today — none of which have (so far) proven true. On the other hand, in reaction to these predictions and the challenges of … imagery, others have practically rejected all promises of end-time events, deeming them a product of ancient mythological thinking. In the words of a former church secretary of mine, “Do we still really believe that anymore?”
I understand that approach, we might in fact say, “Let’s skip Advent 1 and sit down with some popcorn and download the latest Hallmark Christmas film. But Professor Troy is not finished; not finished with hope. He declares that a lot of end-time imagery that we are encountering today in our Gospel, along with other texts, often gets misinterpreted. He writes:
Its aim is not to predict the future as much as it is to offer a word of hope to encourage faithfulness in the present. Jesus does promise a day when the Son of Man will arrive, a just reckoning will happen, and the faithful will see redemption — and these words of promise will not pass away. But this promise calls not for strategic predicting as much as for realizing that our faith is not in vain.
Sometimes we look for hope in all the wrong places. I think sometimes, when it comes to hope we are a bit lazy. We don’t want to look for it, to struggle a bit when we find it. Rather we would like a noxious, super-sweet happy ending that will leave us unperturbed.
As Professor Troy sees it: The gist of Luke 21:25-36 is a message of profound hope — one that is sorely needed today.
He concludes:
Jesus promises a day when his return will bring about lasting salvation, justice, redemption, and healing. This changes everything. A sure future hope inspires faith here and now. And that means more than can be conveyed by even the finest nativity scenes and Christmas cards.
Although our recent election was extremely close in terms of the popular vote, not exactly the landslide that some have been claiming, it is true that the way forward seems to be charged with dramatic change. For some this change is viewed as hopeful, for others it is dangerous and anxiety producing. No matter where we land in terms of political viewpoint, the arrival of President Elect Trump raises an essential question about hope. Where do we find our hope? Where did the early church find its hope? In the midst of great adversity in the first century of the common era, the first Christians began to form the framework of their hope. And they did it by remembering the words, the teachings of Jesus their Lord and also by remembering the prophets.
In today’s Gospel from Luke language in places can be daunting, even fierce. Jesus counsels us as his disciples:
“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap.
But he also says:
“Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
We are to be alert, watchful. And if the future is a bit fearsome in terms of all of the apocalyptic imagery that Jesus is using here, we also are to be hopeful, looking for the presence of God in our lives to ground us in hope. Jesus is asking us to be ready, ready in the way that we live, ready in the way in which we continue to practice love, ready to be people of faith living in hope in our daily lives.
Professor Troy’s church secretary asks: Does anyone really believe that anymore? Do we? Perhaps yearning too much for Hallmark endings, we are too guilty of being blaise, even indifferent.
Today our world is laced with fearsome events. The United Nations force has just pulled out of Haiti, leaving its people to the gangs roaming its streets. Gaza is a wasteland. Forty thousand plus are dead in addition to the losses suffered by Israel. Russia and Ukraine are still slugging it out. People across our land and in other places are still struggling to recover from cataclysmic weather events. You have your list, I have mine. And at times it can be fearsome. Do we have a prayer list?
Perhaps it is time for all of us to remember that our faith is not in vain. Perhaps it is time for us to renew our efforts to practice our faith, to seek the Scriptures devotionally, to pray, to celebrate Eucharist together and to care for one another. Theology is one thing. Predictions are one thing. But hope is another. Hope is granular. It is gritty and it is insistent. The prophets had that kind of hope and refused in the midst of chaos and much sinful disobedience to give in and give up.
And neither should we. Jesus says lift up your heads. His appeal is an appeal to readiness. He asks us to pay attention and to care for one another. Let us live together with a faith, hope and a love that can endure. Amen.
— The Rev. Brian Backstrand serves as vicar of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Monroe. He also supplies as visiting priest at Trinity Episcopal Church in Platteville.
