1 Corinthians 1:1-9; Isaiah 64:1-9
First Sunday in Advent 2014
When is the right time to come before our
Lord for salvation? For holy rescue and
freedom from the sinful thoughts, words and deeds so terribly toxic to who God
created us to be? The symbolic
cleansing offered through the sacrament of baptism is the right time. So too the day we become members of a church
family. And we certainly concentrate on
our sin during the pre-Easter, pensive early springtime period of Lent. The
Bible, through such passages as Psalm 27:14, also reminds us to seek and depend
on this work of our Lord every single day.
But what about now? In this church season of Advent? We all
can get so caught up in this bustling December season of busy preparations, bright
lights and big spending. Yet, we
come. We come here to church to focus
on what it means to wait for the blessed arrival of our Emmanuel, of our Savior
Jesus Christ.
In the next to last
episode of an HBO series about ancient Rome, there’s an emotionally powerful scene
that I find says a whole lot about why humanity needs salvation. There were many horribly violent and amoral reminders
of this throughout the series. It’s
truly rated R (as in ancient Rome!). But
this scene is something else. It’s
intimate and poignant. It’s an intense
conversation shared between two lead characters -- a very beleaguered Marc
Antony and his trusted Centurion guard named Lucius Vorenus.
The once great Roman
military General and politician had by this time succumbed to the passionate charms
and power plays of Egypt’s Queen Cleopatra.
When this conversation takes place, Antony and Cleopatra’s attempt to
create a world superpower was about to be crushed by the Roman Emperor Caesar
Augustus. You know, the same ruler Luke’s Gospel reports
called for the census that led Joseph and a pregnant Mary from Nazareth to be
registered in Bethlehem.
Standing in the Egyptian
royal palace, in the wake of a visit by Antony’s legal wife and her mother, a
visit whereby he did not grant them an audience, Vorenus is commanded to verify
that the women had been sent on their way back to Rome.
Flashes of disgust at
the out of control, manipulative traitor Antony had become cross the
Centurion’s face as he offers the confirmation. Then, as Antony turns to walk away, Vorenus
says, “Sir, your wife instructed me to tell you something. She instructed me to tell you that you are
cowardly scum.”
Antony quietly responds,
“She did, did she? And what is your
opinion of that?”
Vorenus properly replies,
“It’s not my place to have an opinion, sir.”
But Antony is not
dissuaded, and speaking to the old friend this Centurion had become, he asks to
be told anyway.
“Is that an order?”
“Yes, that’s an order.”
Vorenus, whose character
throughout the series had displayed great integrity, then seems clearly ready
to unleash what he really thinks. Placing
himself directly in front of Marc Antony’s face, he matter-of-factly states,
“You’re no coward. But you do have a
strong disease in your soul. A disease
that will eat away at you until you die.”
Calmly, Antony inquires,
“Really. And what is this disease?”
The intense, intimate
conversation carries on with Vorenus admitting he doesn’t know because he isn’t
a doctor. How can he be so sure of his diagnosis, then,
asked Antony. Lucius Vorenus next stares
Antony in the eyes and utters the line that to me strikes a profound call for
salvation. He confesses, “Because I
recognize your symptoms. I have the same
sickness.”
None of us needs to be a
doctor or play one on television to accurately diagnose this disease. We can
recognize the soul sickness all too well.
We’ve seen deadly cells of it within ourselves and in the lives of
others we know and don’t know. News
headlines are like macabre medical reports of it. In our
biblical faith tradition, we know it as the soul sickness of sin.
We’ve all spiritually
inherited this from our very first parents.
Ever since Adam and Eve’s initial rebellion, sin has been insatiably eating
away at our willingness to trust and obey our loving God. We both suffer and contribute to its manifold
symptoms. These include but certainly
aren’t limited to -- a deep down and usually desperate desire to be master of one’s
own destiny; an unrelenting churning of selfish pride and ambition; a terrible
tendency to self-justify our judgments; a slow growing gut full of gluttony and
greed; and a truly toxic stream of violent thoughts and actions running through
our heads and hearts.
Throughout the Hebrew Bible, what we call the Old Testament, God called upon prophets to point out the destructive sickness of sin in people’s lives and communities. I find Lucius Vorenus symbolically represents such a prophetic voice. The real world prophets of the Hebrew Bible didn’t forecast the future so much as bluntly warn of the inevitable, dire consequences if obedience to God continued to be so wretchedly diseased. They strongly and plainly gave voice to God’s sorrow and anger for the ongoing rebellions of humankind. They also, however, spoke clearly about the need to faithfully wait upon God’s promise of salvation. They spoke of doing so by first and foremost turning away from their soul sick symptoms and expectantly turning towards the arrival of holy hope and healing. The greatest promise they spoke of was that God would one day send a Savior like no other to cast out the dark disease of sin in this whole world.
Throughout the Hebrew Bible, what we call the Old Testament, God called upon prophets to point out the destructive sickness of sin in people’s lives and communities. I find Lucius Vorenus symbolically represents such a prophetic voice. The real world prophets of the Hebrew Bible didn’t forecast the future so much as bluntly warn of the inevitable, dire consequences if obedience to God continued to be so wretchedly diseased. They strongly and plainly gave voice to God’s sorrow and anger for the ongoing rebellions of humankind. They also, however, spoke clearly about the need to faithfully wait upon God’s promise of salvation. They spoke of doing so by first and foremost turning away from their soul sick symptoms and expectantly turning towards the arrival of holy hope and healing. The greatest promise they spoke of was that God would one day send a Savior like no other to cast out the dark disease of sin in this whole world.
During the December
weeks to come, we do have the desire to get lost in the festive brightness, family
time, colorful decorations, joyous singing, and evergreen glories of this
holiday season. We do find ourselves
warmly welcoming fresh thoughts about God coming to us so personally, so
intimately, so incredibly wrapped in the flesh of a human child. One part of me would prefer to stand here
today and only happily promise the Light.
But more of me knows that if any of us is to have a hope of keeping
Christ in Christmas, we must first pause long enough to acknowledge why He came
to us.
This is not just about
critiquing consumerism. It’s about very
honestly confessing sin and all its tragic trials, trails and tales. Those
in our personal lives and witnessed in daily news headlines. We need to fully see and confess
the soul sickness within
us all that time and again keeps us from loving our neighbors as ourselves;
the soul sickness eating
away at American communities such as Ferguson, Missouri;
the soul sickness that
both oppressively and murderously terrorizes good people in every corner of the
world;
the soul sickness that
absolutizes one world view by demonizing all others;
the soul sickness that
worships every kind of false god and forges divisions;
the soul sickness that seeks
to constantly confuse real love and healthy self-images;
the soul sickness that
steadily erodes human hope with unrelenting grief, dangerous depression, and
uncontrollable addictions.
In the midst of all such
real world sorrows, we hear the ancient yet always relevant words of the mighty
prophet Isaiah urging and pleading with us to remember the Advent proclamation that
God comes to those who confess themselves as unclean, are willing to be freshly
molded in God’s image and to faithfully wait for divine intervention to come in
powerfully unexpected ways.
In its important historical
context, Isaiah’s urging and pleading was originally spoken to the Israelites
when they happily returned home to Jerusalem from forced exile by the
Babylonian Empire. They had hoped this
homecoming would be their salvation, the end of their shameful, ugly, evil
rebellion against their God. Yet the
soul sickness continued to greatly afflict the nation. Release from foreign bondage only cast them straight
back into their own. It’s kind of like
the feeling of coming home to God at Christmas and Easter, yet soon after
soberly realizing the soul sickness will be with and within us until Christ
comes again in glory. And so we listen
to Isaiah’s Advent proclamation, to yet again come faithfully and expectantly before
God as we wait anew for salvation.
In the midst of all our
continued real world sorrows, we also hear the ancient yet always relevant
words of the Apostle Paul. The
words we just heard were written to the first century church in Corinth,
Greece, which was one part of the world dominant Roman Empire. These words are a prayerful reminder that
salvation indeed comes through Jesus Christ and that Christians should feel
confident and reassured of this in every situation. The remainder of the letter makes it clear
that some specific conflicted situation had arisen in that community. As a result, many folks were anxious and
confused about the coming again of Christ.
Paul reminds them all of God’s steadfast faithfulness and tells them that
as they wait upon the Lord they will all be strengthened ‘til the end. And while waiting and being strengthened, Paul
further preached they were to value one another as vital members of the church
and be unified in their life of faith and trust.
So, welcome to this
year’s waiting. To this year’s Advent
journey. To the true heart of this
season. Purple, you’ll notice is the
liturgical color of Advent. It’s not
just pretty … it’s the traditional color of penitence, of showing sorrow for
wrong doing against God and neighbor. Purple
reminds us to pause together, to faithfully admit the sin sickness inside
ourselves and everywhere in this world, to acknowledge the darkness as we await
the eternal Light of a sacred silent night.
Amen.