A Sermon for the Anxious - Luke 21:25-36
The holiday shopping season is in full swing. We’re getting catalogs in the mail every day, especially from L.L. Bean and Lands End. Just when you think you’ve received their big Christmas mailer, about 20 more arrive. And even if you’re not planning to order anything, the catalogs are calming to look through. Take Lands End, with all those smiling people in a homey setting, relaxing in stretchy pants and slippers with the tag line, “Let’s get comfy.” Comfort seems to be the dominant sales pitch this year. Maybe it’s because so many people have been working from home or stuck at home during the pandemic. Or maybe it’s because things have been stressful and companies figured cozy comfort is the hot trend we all need. It’s a pretty effective marketing strategy in these anxious times. Or at least it was for me this week, as I thumbed through that catalog while wearing sweats, curled up under a weighted blanket. Weighted blankets are kind of like thunder shirts for dogs, only for humans. Ours was a pandemic purchase. By the way, if you plan to jump on that trend this holiday season, here’s a pro tip. Be sure to purchase the recommended weight for your blanket. We thought more would be better and got the heavier one. Folding that thing is basically a CrossFit workout.
But back to the cozy comfort trend, which is just one of several solutions the secular world offers for these anxious times. There are plenty of others, some more healthy than others. I recommend a weighted blanket and streaming a good show, especially Ted Lasso. Or, based on the ratings, if you want to watch Christmas movies with happy endings on the Hallmark Channel, you're in lots of good company. But we also know that destructive coping mechanisms are on the rise, too. Addictions and overdoses have skyrocketed. As have mental health crises. Which is not surprising, as we collectively worry about everything from new coronavirus variants to the future of democracy. Not to mention the personal worries we carry around, too. That’s a lot of heavy weight on our shoulders. At times, it all feels, well, kind of apocalyptic. There isn’t much secular wisdom for what to actually do with so much worry. But there is wisdom in the Church, especially on this first Sunday of Advent.
On this first day of the liturgical year, the Church begins the Christian story with Jesus saying strange, apocalyptic things, as if on cue. “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory.” Our sacred story begins not with the first but the second coming of Christ to a world in distress, to a people fainting from fear. It’s a strange place to start the story. But it is a profoundly hopeful place to start, especially for the anxious.
I suppose every generation believes that the world is ending, in one way or another. My parents thought so, as the cold war erupted after the second World War, and then as the world as they knew it began to crumble in the 1960s. Their parents thought the end was near as they started their families in the midst of the Depression. It seems that each generation going back in time has had reason to read current disasters and crises as a sign of the end times, maybe for all of human history. High anxiety, what Luke calls fainting from fear and foreboding, seems to be part of the human condition (Barbara Brown Taylor).
One option in the face of high anxiety would be to throw up our hands and give in to the fear. But Jesus has different advice: “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Standing up and raising our hands is the opposite of giving in to the fear. It’s faith. Faith that God is somehow working through all of it. Faith that Christ will come in glory. Faith that there will be a final culmination to this whole story in which the Holy will triumph over all the forces that work against it. Faith that in the end, the kingdom of God will reign at last.
If these grand ideas seem abstract or hard to believe, Jesus has more advice. “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.” The fig tree is a clue, that we will find evidence in the ordinary stuff around us that the kingdom of God is on its way. These days, as we watch the news and wait anxiously for crises to pass, Jesus says that if we look around, we can see signs of God’s activity. Be sure to look at the small and the local, like a fig tree in the back yard, for signs that the kingdom is on its way.
Given that advice, it’s not hard to see a connection between the first Sunday of Advent and Christmas Day. No sign of God’s love is more small or local than a baby in a manger. A pattern begins to emerge about how God operates. There is a closeness to God’s activity, which connects each one of us to the story of our salvation. God’s grand story comes to us on a very human, personal scale. God has always worked that way, which is surprising for such a large God. We can start to see why Jesus is so insistent about caring for the person right in front of us, whoever they are. Following him is not an abstract idea but a small and local practice.
We should take note of one more piece of advice from Jesus this morning. As we search for the cozy stuff to bring us comfort this holiday season, which by the way, I think he would be in favor of, Jesus reminds us not to take either cozy comfort or our anxieties so far as to numb out. I’m looking at you holiday catalogs and Netflix. “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” Instead, we are to stay alert, watching for signs of God’s kingdom in this troubled world. The Church tells us the one hopeful thing that nothing else can this time of year, and it’s the thing we need to hear most of all. Watch for the signs, because our redemption is drawing near.