Sermon December 1, 2002

First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 64: 1-9a

1 Corinthians 1: 1-9

Fr. Michael Richardson

Psalm 80

Mark 13: 24-37

The Chapel of Our Saviour

December 1, 2002

Watching. Waiting. We are not prone to do either in this fast paced world. They seem like wasteful activities only to be done when there is nothing else to do, or we are too tired to do anything else. Watching is sometimes seen as the activity of the weak in our world. The gurus of progress and self-esteem tell us not to wait for things to happen but to make things happen, as if one could only do one or the other, wait or make, but not both.

I want to contend that waiting can be an active verb. In fact, it is always an active, not a passive stance, but it is the way in which we watch or wait that makes it seem active or passive.

There are at least two kinds of waiting. The one kind is bound up in despair. It is a kind of waiting that waits always for another to act and in the mean time does nothing but complain or whine or moan that the world is not fair. This kind of waiting has justly received a bad name. There is very little health in this kind of waiting because it is turned inward.

The waiting is not really waiting for the other for the sake of the other; it is waiting for the other for the sake of self. It may be bound up in self-pity or self-loathing or even self-justification, but it is bound up in self. The assumption is that I am the center of the universe. This is the kind of waiting that many of us do at the supermarket or in traffic, or even when waiting for a friend or an appointment. The focus of the waiting is usually, "Why am I waiting?" or even the accusatory, "Why are you making me wait?" not "What am I waiting for and do I want to wait for this?" This kind of waiting is like despair because it sees no hope or purpose. Another thing I see in this kind of waiting is that it is not watchful. That is, because it has lost purpose or meaning it no longer allows for the arrival of meaning and so does not watch for meaning.

A different kind of waiting is more like hope. A parishioner reminded me that that the Spanish for "to hope" or "to wait" is the same word, esperar. Espero que venga Dios. I hope that God comes. Or, I wait - that God comes. To put it in the context of today's lesson, it is hope that waits for another to act and in the mean time takes part in life as it is and works to do a few of the things that are hoped for when the other, that is when God, acts in a final manner. Hope that waits for another to act and in the mean time takes part in life as it is and works to do a few of the things that are hoped for. This kind of waiting is about the other, the anticipated. This kind of waiting is both outwardly focused and watchful.

The outward focus of waiting for the other is all about the other, in this case God, not about what I need. Waiting, like love, may be turned outward as an expression of the self toward the other or inward as an expression of self-centeredness. Turned inward, waiting always feels lousy. Turned outward, it can be a keen anticipation of the arrival of joy.

This kind of waiting is watchful because it does have meaning and purpose intact and therefore has something to watch for. Hope watches for the good that is surely coming. Hope watches for the Day of Judgment trusting that it will bring joy at the arrival of God's justice and mercy. Hope watches for the Day of Judgment trusting that when God's righteousness arrives we will all experience righteousness and know that we are finally experiencing that which we have been looking for all along.

In the mean time, this kind of watchfulness seeks to do that which is hoped for. The waiting is not idle, but purposeful.

Prayer can be a kind of waiting, especially prayer that seeks not for God to fix the things I need and want, but simply seeks God. This is like the prayer of the poor in spirit who will receive the kingdom of heaven. Their prayer is an admission of pain and sorrow, not demanding that God take away the pain, but simply asking to be in the presence of God with the pain. It's like a little child who is hurt coming to cry in a parent's arms just to be held.

When we pray and are simply focused on waiting for God to speak or act or become more part of our environment we are doing so in a spirit of hopefulness and watchfulness. We hope that God will become a greater part of us and we watch to see what God would be doing and take part in that as God's hands and eyes and voice.

Advent is the time of waiting and watching. It is the beginning of our church year. And so it is a time of hopefulness and anticipation. But it is also a time of watching and participating in God's plan.

You may remember the Gospel from the last Sunday in the church year, last week, that was about all those who had given food or drink or clothing to the Lord when he was in need and those who visited him in hospitals and prisons. That was the end of the year but it was also the beginning of our learning to be watchful. The Gospel this week reminds us that the Master gave instructions to be followed while he was away and we are not to be idle but to do the work we are given. The beginning is in the end.

T. S. Elliot put this well in the poem "Little Gidding".

"What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from…
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning."

That is Advent. We begin the church year focused on the end of time, on watching and waiting in anticipation of God's return. But it's the kind of waiting that we do that we'll be asked about.

Tolstoy wrote a story that takes the abstraction of two kinds of waiting and makes them real. Here is a version of that story.

Martin was a shoemaker who lived many years ago in a basement shop in a crowded Russian city. The only light in his room came from a small window where he could see people walking by on the street level above him. He lived alone in the small shop, his wife having died some years before and, later, their only son having died when he was just 13 years old. Martin was lonely and depressed.

In his trouble the shoemaker sought the counsel of a holy man. "All I ask of God is that he bring my life quickly to a close. I have become a man without hope," Martin cried.

"There is still reason for you to live," said the old man. "The answer lies in God. When you give yourself to God you will find the reason to live, and you will no longer grieve over your great loss."

Martin pondered the man's words. "How do I give myself to God?" he finally asked. "That is what Christ showed us. Purchase and read the New Testament. There you will learn to live for God. Everything is to be found in the Gospels."

Martin went immediately to a store and bought a New Testament. Each night, after his work was finished, Martin lit his lamp and read from the precious book. The more he read, the more he understood. The more he understood, the clearer and more joyful his heart became.

As the depression left him, Martin faced each day with great anticipation. He worked long hours, caring tenderly for the boots and shoes that entered his shop. His reading empowered him to do his finest work.

One night Martin was reading the story of the Pharisee who invited Jesus to dinner. While they were at the table a woman anointed Jesus' feet with her tears and he declared her sins forgiven. The Pharisee was taken aback when Jesus said to him, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment."

Martin wondered how he would have treated Jesus if he had been the host. Would he care only for himself and not for his Lord? He fell asleep wondering how he would host the Lord and was startled by someone speaking in his ear. "Martin, I will come and visit you tomorrow. Be watchful," said the voice.

He woke fully and wondered if the voice had been a dream. He finally went back to sleep and woke early to say prayers and put on his cabbage soup before he began work. His mind was not on the boots in front of him, but on the voice he had heard. "Was it really Jesus?" he asked himself. He watched out the window to look at the feet passing by in hope that the Lord would visit.

Soon he saw the familiar boots of Stephen; the old retired soldier who shoveled the snow from the building. He was struggling in the cold and Martin went out and asked him to come in and warm up by the fire. He made them both a cup of tea and sat with Stephen as they drank tea. Martin kept looking out the window and Stephen asked if he was looking for someone. "Yes, I'm looking for someone," he said, and told Stephen the story of what had happened to him. He began with the story of the Pharisee and how it had affected him and them went on to tell other stories he had read in the Gospel.

After awhile Stephen thanked him for feeding him in body and soul and went back out to his work. Martin was pleased about sharing all of this, but disappointed that Jesus had not yet come. He went back to work and continued to watch out the window.

Later he saw a young woman in a summer dress trying to wrap a baby in a light blanket. He asked her to come in and wrap the baby in the warmth of the shop and then asked about her light clothing in the winter. She explained that her husband had gone off to war some months before and she had continued to work until the baby was born and she was let go. She had sold much of her clothing to feed herself and the baby. Martin went to his closet and found a good coat that had been his wife's and gave it to the woman along with some food and a warm blanket for the baby.

As she left he was glad that he saw her as he was watching out the window, but somewhat sad that Jesus had not yet come by. "Perhaps it was only a dream," he thought. He found it more and more difficult to keep his eyes on his work as the day went on and found himself looking out the window constantly.

He had opened the door to look out when he saw an old woman carrying a basket of apples in one arm and a sack of firewood in the other. A small boy came by and nabbed one of the apples and tried to run off but she had grabbed hold of him and would not let go. They struggled and she started to scream at the boy and curse him.

Martin ran into the street and separated the two, begging the woman to forgive the boy. "Forgive and forget, for the sake of Christ," he said. I'll give him something not to forget. I'll take him to the police!" she shouted.
"For the sake of Christ, have mercy," he pleaded. Martin continued to talk to them and in a few moments the boy had apologized. Martin continued to talk about the forgiveness of our Lord and the woman softened and gave the little boy an apple to whet his hunger. As she turned to go on her way the boy stepped forward and asked if he could carry her sack of wood for her. Martin watched the two of them walk away talking to each other and becoming friends.

As he went back into his store to close up he felt glad that he was able to help them, but still sadness came upon him when he realized that the day was almost done and Jesus had not come. He felt foolish that he had expected Jesus to come to his shop. Martin cleaned his shop and ate dinner in silence, then picked up the New Testament and began to read from the 25th chapter of Matthew.

"Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?"

And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."

Martin suddenly saw the faces of the people he had met that day, Stephen, the young mother and baby, and the old woman and little boy. Martin knew that the voice had not deceived him last night and he smiled as he thought of all his watching and waiting that day.

Be awake! And watch. It's Advent. And the Master is coming.+