Sermon for November 17, 2019 - Advent 2 (extended) - The Rev'd Jeffrey W. Mello

Malachi 4:1-2a; Psalm 98; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19

Few plot points in movies and plays get to me emotionally like those in which the persecuted stand up and say “no.”

The strength and courage that comes from their desperation and hope connects to something deep in the core of my soul.  

This week I went to see the movie “Harriet.”  Based on the story of Harriet Tubman and her heroic work as a conductor for the underground railroad, this movie was full of moments of fierce desperation and hope.

When Harriet, for fear of being sold, decides to run off the plantation, on her own, dogs and guns mere feet behind her.

When she, who was born Araminta Ross and called “Minty” claims her new name, her free name, Harriet Tubman.

When the Fugitive Slaves Act is passed and escaped slaves in free states are no longer safe, the conductors of the Underground Railway meet to discuss the end of their work as they knew it.  

Moving slaves on foot to freedom in Canada was a 600 mile journey no one thought possible.  Their only hope now was to wait for a war to settle the matter.

Harriet snaps. And she says “no.”

“I ain’t givin’ up rescuing slaves because it’s far! Many a you don’t know slavery first hand. You were born free, or maybe you been free so long, you forget what it’s like. You got comfortable and important... ...You got beautiful homes, and beautiful wives.... But I remember [...] Tryin’ not to think a what dey went through... What those still enslaved are goin’ through right now! I have heard their groans and sighs, and seen their tears, and I would give every drop of blood in my veins to free ‘em! So I ain’t givin’ up! I’ma do whatever I got to, go wherever I got to, however I got to do it - to rescue as many slaves as possible, til dis beast, dis monster call slavery is slain dead!”

Heroic strength and courage, born of deep desperation and abiding hope.

In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus, walking with his followers, knows desperation.  And he knows hope.  

In this moment, however, it seems his followers have forgotten.  or they’ve grown complacent. Or they have given up.

In the midst of Jesus’ urgent work to reconcile the world to God his followers stop to appreciate the glory of the temple as it stands around them.  What an amazing architectural feat. What a sign that there God is back on top. What a testament to the glory of the status quo. What proof that they have arrived and all is right with the world.

Who need be desperate, when the temple looks so pretty? Who needs hope when what you have been hoping for soars around you in exquisite detail?

Jesus knows what the prophet Malachi predicted.  “See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; .... But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.”

Malachai knew it.  Jesus knew it. Harriet knew it.

But do you know it?  Right here, right now in this moment, is the sin-sick nature of this world propelling you out into the very thick of it that God’s dream for the world might be made known?

Or do you just not think it’s possible?

Are you worn down, worn out?  Frustrated that the closer we seem to get to God’s justice, the stronger the forces that rebel against God seem to get?

Or, maybe, the temple looks pretty good from where you stand.  Maybe the cries of the oppressed are hard to hear with our ear buds in.

No matter what force of evil you are battling, whether it is the global sin of income disparity and hunger, our national sin of racism, or personal wars of addiction or depression.  No matter the battle, we know that things always get worse before they get better.

We know that power is not given up by the powerful without fierce resistance.  And we know that “the way things have always been” can be an uncomfortable but predictable balm against the unknown future hope for which God made us.

Have we forgotten?  Have we gotten too comfortable?  

We all have our pretty temples that distract us, and tempt us to turn away from brutal reality of others’ lives, or of our own.

Did the glory of marriage equality make the world a safe place for transgender women of color?

Did the splendor of the election of our nation’s first black president heal the centuries old sin of racism?

Did the advent of the #metoo movement give women economic parity or safety from human trafficking?

Or maybe the current state of affairs in this world makes it seem to you like the task in front of us, bringing about the Dream of God in this world, is simply impossible?  And it just seems to get harder everyday, like a 100 mile escape on foot turning to a six hundred mile journey through the wilderness?

What will we do?  Do we, like the committed abolitionists of Harriet’s day, simply wait for some kind of war, some kind of outside force, wait for someone else to solve the problems in the world?  How has that worked out in the past?

And do we wait for some kind of epic battle to end the deep pain in our families? How does that end?

Do we wait for a war to solve for us the battle that rages in our hearts? How many victims of those wars do we have to bury before we’re convinced it’s too many?  How many guns will be enough? How many overdoses? How many suicides?

Maybe it is time for us to stop running.  Maybe it is time to turn, and to look again at whatever monsters are chasing us and say “no?”

This season of Advent is, or at least it can be, about so much more than getting ready for Christmas.  It is, or it can be, about getting ready for Christ.

It can be a time to invite Jesus into our lives, time to take an inventory of where we are heading and where the focus of our lives is, and to say “No.” A time to say that we will not give up simply because the work is hard.

We will not give up simply because it looks pretty good from where we sit. 

Advent is a time to turn from the forces that chase us, the voices that tell us to give up, to face again the future which God intends for us.  

It is a time to turn away from the ways we numb ourselves to the pain in this world, while waiting for someone else to heal it.  It is a time to remember again that we are not to be wearied in doing good just because doing good is scary, or because it is hard, or because the results are often generations in the coming.  

As Jesus asks his followers to turn from the distraction of the temple, he asks us to turn and look at him again.  Seek him again.  Follow him again.  Don’t be distracted or complacent or hopeless, but turn and face the brokenness in this world because that’s exactly where Jesus waits for us. That is where Christ will be born to us.  That is where God will break into our world, into our lives and rise, like the sun of righteousness, with healing in its wings.

Hear the words of the prophet Harriet.  “I have heard their groans and sighs, and seen their tears, and I would give every drop of blood in my veins to free ‘em! So I ain’t givin’ up! I’ma do whatever I got to, go wherever I got to, however I got to do it.”

Don’t give up.

Do whatever you have to do.

Go wherever you’ve got to go.

You’ve got to do it.

Stop running.

Turn around.

Get desperate.

Claim hope.

Don’t let anyone tell you the limits of what you can do.

And rise.  Rise like the sun of righteousness bearing healing on your wings.

AMEN.

© 2019  The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello