Living into the Comma

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday November 27, 2011, the 1st Sunday in Advent.

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Isaiah 64:1-9

Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

1 Corinthians 1:3-9

Mark 13:24-27

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

Today is the first Sunday in Advent, and as we just heard, Advent means coming. This is the season when we prepare for the coming of the Lord Jesus into the world. In this month we will celebrate the breaking of the fully divine God of all creation into the weakest of all human forms, a baby born to a single mother in Roman-occupied Judea. We celebrate the Christ, the King of kings and Lord of lords, coming in the most humble of ways. But our Gospel reading doesn’t really point to this coming, it points to another coming.

Advent is from the Latin word for coming, but there is another word that is used for the coming of the Christ, parousia. Parousia is from the Greek word for coming. Because of its appearance in John’s Revelation,[1] it is most often used when describing not the first coming but what we call the second coming of the Lord. Since it is Jesus himself who describes the coming of the Lord in this gospel reading, it makes sense that he is describing not the first, but the second coming of the Lord.

This coming is the source of our Christian hope.

Our hope is not that “things” will come to pass. Yes, Jesus tells us to learn the lessons of the fig tree. He teaches us that we know the signs of the times. We should know what is happening. But this, this knowledge and ability to interpret the signs are not our hope. Our hope is not in what is coming but who is coming.

We do not place our faith in events or in things. We don’t place our faith in stuff or the structures we build; we place our faith in Christ. By the power of the Holy Spirit we place our faith in Christ.

This faith we have is not in some God we do not know. As well as we can know on this side of glory, we worship the God in Christ we know. This is the Christ who came to minister to sinners and to the poor. This is the Christ who defended the widow and orphan and traveler. This is the Christ who opens the kingdom of God to all who come. This is the Christ who came to heal the sick, not rub elbows with the elite. This is the God in Christ who ministers to humanity not despite our sinful nature but because we are his children, the children of God. This is the God who sent his Spirit to be with us, to indwell us, to walk beside us, to give us strength and support until he comes again.

This faith we have is not that the kingdom of God has fully come. Our faith is that we see as Paul said through a mirror darkly. We have seen God’s peace and justice at work, but we know that until he comes again we will not know this peace and justice fully. I have described this as “now and not yet.”

Christ has come, and when he came he emptied himself of his Godly status, becoming subject to the principalities of this life. He became subject to death, even death upon the cross, but Christ conquered death. He allowed himself to be subjected to death so that he could defeat death. He became subject to human justice so that he could bring his perfect justice. Christ has come. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

Yet despite this victory in Christ, a truth we know has happened, we know that it is not fully realized in this world. We know death is defeated, yet we face the death of our bodies and our values in a dozen little ways every day. Christ has come. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Still we continue to fight the battles Christ has won every day. The victory is won and the battle continues.

When we celebrate Advent we celebrate the coming of the Christ child, the baby Jesus. Today, today when we share this gospel reading we celebrate the Second Advent, the Parousia, the final coming in victory. Yes, we celebrate.

With this coming, with this coming in power, glory, peace, and justice, we do not ponder whether or not this will happen. The greatest hope we have is not if these promises will be fulfilled, but when. We are told that God’s word in Christ by the power of the Spirit will never pass away. We are told that this prophecy will come to pass. Our greatest Christian hope is that this will happen. True, we are not given an indication of when this will happen, but we are promised that it will.

Last week while talking about the sheep and the goats[2] I said, “It’s not up to us to decide who will be saved and who will not because Christ the King makes that decision.” In the same way, none of us knows when Christ will return. The son himself doesn’t even know, but we are not left to wonder if Jesus will come again, we are told he will. In the same breath we are told that he will, but not when. Last week I said “Taking time and energy [to decide who will be saved and who will not] ultimately distracts us doing what we are called to do.” In the same way, wondering when he will return also distracts us doing what we are called to do.

So we are warned to be on guard, to be alert. Like the old church sign says, “Scripture doesn’t say get ready, it says be ready.” Scripture teaches us to keep watch.

One New Testament scholar, a man whose main focus is the gospel of Mark,[3] believes that this gospel should be read backward. Story by story, it should be read from the end to the beginning, from the Resurrection to John the Baptist’s preparations for the coming. Our readings this Advent season reflect this. This week we read from a prophecy of the second coming. Over the next three weeks, we will read from the beginnings of Mark then John then Luke.

This reading shows us that Advent is a time of waiting. It’s a time of preparation. It is the time between when Jesus came and when he comes again. Our readings for Advent reflect this promise, and it reflects them in reverse. We start with the second coming this week and go to the first coming for the rest of Advent.

Last week Marie and I went to the cemetery and visited the mausoleum where Joe McDonald was laid to rest a couple of weeks ago. While I was there I recalled the wonderful stories about Joe’s life. I remember seeing everyone at the funeral home and here for the service. I remember seeing the tributes along with the pictures and scrapbooks. Standing at the wall I remembered the wonderful celebration of Joe’s life as we bore witness to the resurrection. (Service of Witness to the Resurrection is technically what Presbyterians call a funeral service.) There, at that wall, I gave thanks for the witness of his life and the promise of the resurrection.

As all of these glorious thoughts crossed my mind, one thing got stuck. Unless you knew Joe, or any of the saints whose names adorn the stones in the cemetery, all that you would know of their lives is summed up in a dash. Of the hundreds of people, family members, loved ones, and revered citizens whose last resting place is in Colonial Gardens cemetery; unless you know them from local history or in person, their life is summed up in a simple dash, a hyphen. That’s heavy lifting for a little hyphen.

One of the things we did in worship this morning is state what we believe using the words of the Apostles’ Creed. It wasn’t written by the Apostles’, but there is a historical element of the twelve in the creed. When it was written, it was envisioned that each of the twelve wrote one of the affirmations in the creed. So when we share our faith using the creed, it is as though we share the creed with the original twelve apostles and with all Christians throughout the ages.

Liturgy means “work of the people.” Reciting the creed, singing the Gloria and the Doxology, joining in confession and supplication, hearing and responding to the Word, these are just some of the elements that make up the work we do in worship. Worship, framed around the liturgy is our work. Stating what we believe is a part of that work, but there is something missing from the creed.

We say the words that shape our faith, yet we go straight from “born of the Virgin Mary” to “suffered under Pontius Pilate.” The creed takes us from the birth of Jesus to the Passion of the Christ, but speaks nothing of what happened in between. There’s only a comma. The entire life of Jesus of Nazareth, the life of the Christ is summed up in a comma. That’s heavy lifting for a little comma.

The Apostles’ Creed leaves the life and ministry of Jesus in a comma. It’s a shame that’s all there is, but if we were to begin to expand that comma we would have a creed as long as the gospels. John’s gospel even tells us that all of the works of Jesus could not be contained in that book, so in truth that comma can be expanded into something larger than scripture as we know it. So what is in that comma?

In that comma is life. In that comma is hope. Christ lives in that comma, we live in Christ. We are called to live into that comma. Our life and vocation is found living into the comma.

Today, Mark’s gospel invites us to consider the part of our lives that we find in the comma. The part of our lives we find in the hyphen. Looking at stone in the cemetery, all of the hyphens look the same, but we know this is not true. It is up to us to see where the Lord is leading us in this life. It is up to us to live into the comma and that is what makes Christians different from others in this life.

Walter J. Burghardt said, “Here is your Advent: Make the Christ who has come a reality, a living light, in your life and in some other life. Give of yourself… to one dark soul… with no conditions”[4] God leads us to make Christ a reality in our life and the lives of others. It is up to us to follow. It is up to us to live into our dash, to live into his comma.

Our reading from Isaiah tells of when the prophet spoke of the days to come. He spoke of the awesome things Christ does we do not expect. The first of these was God coming to earth. Today our reading, this first reading in Advent presents Jesus expanding Isaiah’s prophecy telling creation that he will come again. When he comes he will see the work of his hands in the work of his people. He will see his life as our living liturgy, his life as our work.

When we allow ourselves to be shaped by God as a potter shapes the clay; we live into the dash, we live into the comma. Advent means coming. Jesus is coming. Parousia mean coming, or more aptly coming back. Jesus is coming again. So let us be aware of both arrivals. The one we celebrate in about four weeks and the other which will come in God’s good time.

Together let us seek the word of God. Hear the word of God. Let us follow God’s word. This is how we do God’s work. This is how we live as God’s people.

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[1] Revelation 22:20

[2] The Decider, http://timelovesahero.blogspot.com/2011/11/decider.html, retrieved November 26, 2011.

[3] The Reverend Doctor John Alsop

[4] Burghardt, Walter J., “Sir, We Would Like to See Jesus.”  Paulist Press, 1982 in “An Advent Sourcebook.”  Thomas J. O’Gorman, Editor.  Chicago: Archdiocese of Chicago, Liturgy Training Publications, 1988, page 9.