The Book of Genesis was always meant to be the prologue for the rest of the Biblical story. The creation stories were not merely to be pronouncements about how things must always be, but to emphasize that this was only the beginning of God’s creation, a creation that God intended to work for good. Humanity is given the solemn responsibility as stewards to care for the earth and to care for every animal. That is one reason we were assigned the responsibility to name the animals, much as parents name their children. Later in the Biblical story, the rainbow became a sign of divine love for all peoples under the heavens. Even when Abraham and Sarah were singled out as the progenitors of a special nation, the purpose of being set apart was so that through their descendents, all peoples would be blessed.
The lessons of Advent reflect a reprise of the creation stories. They point to God’s new creation in Jesus Christ. Like the first creation, Advent is about cosmic implications. That is why in the Gospel for today we are given universal images. The sun, moon, stars, and the oceans, shared by all, will be observably shaken because Christ’s coming has universal significance.
A few years back, it was common to see bumper stickers on the back of some cars that smugly read, “In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned.” When I saw such stickers I pictured the stretch of New Jersey Turnpike about twenty minutes south of NYC around five p.m. on the eve of a long weekend. As many of you likely know, close to New York City, the turnpike is four lanes on each side for passenger cars only, and two lanes paralleling on each side for buses, trucks, and the few hapless out-of-state cars which didn’t get over into the car lanes. So picture a twelve-lane road, clogged with speeding traffic, and suddenly this so-called rapture occurs. Bus drivers float up into the sky to the horror of their passengers, a few truck drivers go up too as their rigs accelerate full speed down the road, and three or four drivers and passengers out of every ten autos in the car lane, ascend to the heavens also. It’s a perfect plot for a Hollywood disaster film. “Rapture on the Jersey Turnpike” has so many possibilities for flashback subplots of who was taken up and who was left behind, and along with the visual effects of spectacular crashes, fires, and explosions; even the sequels might be box office hits.
Now that sort of image is the stuff of Hollywood, but it is not what Advent is about. Sensational disaster scenarios don’t prepare the way for the coming of our Lord. Indeed beware of images that project indifference or callousness to human tragedy as originating from God. Advent is the announcement of anticipation and of encouragement to wait for a fresh beginning beyond all expectation. Advent is about God sharing our humanity, not shirking, or condemning it.
Christ does indeed enter our lives unexpectedly, suddenly, even when we push back and act unwelcome and when we are woefully unprepared and ashamed. Yet Christ always sides with healing over injury and reconciliation over exile and shame. The cosmic signs of Advent convey that God intends to redeem humanity. That is why it is appropriate on this first Sunday of the church’s liturgical New Year to wish each other “Happy New Year” when we pass the peace. We share a happy new year because we believe God’s promise of hope is stronger than the world’s imposition of chaos. The four Sundays of Advent are not an excuse to develop a pilot for a horror series. Advent reminds us that the presence of Christ among us is intended as Good News for the world. Yes there is a word of judgment on evil, but that, too, is part of the healing process, just as a disease needs to be named before it may be conquered. A large part of our preparation during this time could be well spent reflecting on how we can cooperate in God’s new act of creation. So, Happy New Year! People of faith affirm that the world will be blessed indeed by God’s coming.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
