Disciple: The Second Advent

A Meditation on the First Sunday of Advent

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. BCP, p. 211

First Sunday of Advent’s texts:
Jeremiah 33:14-16-; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13; Luke 21:25-36

Two visitations of Christ are mentioned in the Collect of the first week of Advent: first, in great humility, with a lowly birth in a stable; and finally, enthroned in his glorious majesty, to judge the living and the dead. Both visitations are the bookends of Advent. (In between, we have Christ’s “daily visitation,” which is the subject of the collect for the 4^th Sunday of Advent). I venture here a few thoughts on Jesus’ first and final visitations.

As Episcopalians, we love to observe Christ’s first visitation. We remember that God came to us in the flesh as Emmanuel, God-with-us, the babe of Bethlehem. This is a God around whom we can more comfortably wrap our arms. Little Jesus, meek and mild. This is a much more manageable God. We are eager to welcome Baby Jesus. So eager, in fact, we struggle with the secular culture’s rush to sing Christmas carols in Advent. But we hang our purple or blue instead of our gold and white paraments. We sing Veni, veni Emmanuel. We open our Advent calendars each day. We are like little kids, counting down the days until God’s Present arrives. We ask each other, “Are you ready for Christmas?” We can do Advent as preparation for Christmas.

A MISSED OPPORTUNITY

The final Advent, more commonly known as the Second Coming, is a subject of great fascination in some branches of the Christian family. Not so much for Episcopalians. We resemble the larger secular culture’s attitudes. We don’t anticipate, much less desire, the final visitation. I remember reading somewhere that Lewis Grizzard wrote he once had an editor who claimed that he could summarize the whole New Testament in one short paragraph. It went something like this: “Jesus came and died. He’s coming back again. And he won’t be happy.” This business of judging the living and the dead has a potentially ominous feel to it. A fully-grown Jesus who renders judgement is a lot harder to take than sweet little Baby Jesus. I may be going out on a limb here, but I doubt that Episcopalians ask one another, “Are you ready for the Second Coming?” Doing Advent as preparation for Judgment Day lacks the joy that preparing to celebrate the first Advent has for us.

We are missing an opportunity, however. The return of Christ tells us the human story—indeed, the story of the whole created order—does not end in chaos and destruction. The Revelation to John, also known as the Apocalypse, tells us that although it may seem like everything is going to hell in a handbasket, God is about to make all things new. We are moving toward Christ, the Alpha and Omega who is the origin and destination of all that is. The God who created all things with the Word; the God who liberated a ragtag collection of slaves and formed them into a people; the God whose word to the Blessed Virgin Mary was fear not: that same God gives us a word of hope and joy no matter how dark and dreary the world may seem to us. The purpose of the apocalyptic literature in the Bible is not to scare but to inspire us, that we may lift up our heads with confidence and be drawn toward the vision of all creation and all peoples united in harmony, reconciled to one another and to God in Christ. The final visitation is not about escaping this world. On the contrary, it empowers us to work toward the fulfillment of its vision in joyful and grateful recognition that God will bring it to fruition in the fullness of time.

THE CHOICE IS OURS

Notice, then, the collect’s approach to the final visitation. We, in this mortal life, are living during the time of Christ’s first visitation. The first Advent graces us with the opportunity to prepare for the second or final Advent by casting away the works of darkness, here and now. Today Christ empowers us to judge our own lives, to weigh what we do, to choose to embrace the light and let go of the darkness. The word judgment in the New Testament is the same word as crisis. A crisis is a moment of decision, a time to choose a course of action.

We need not wait until the final advent to hear the judgment of our works. We are in a moment of crisis in the here and now. Let’s not waste it! The liturgical season of Advent is a moment of grace in which we can assess the way we live and make changes to embrace the light. How well are we imitating Jesus? Does our way of life conform to the pattern of the One who is Light from Light or does it resemble more the works of darkness that threaten to devour our soul and destroy the lives of those around us? Invitations to join in the works of darkness abound; our task is to cast them away and to embrace “the armor of light” that will protect us and make us agents of God’s peace, justice and mercy.

The prospect of the Final Advent of Christ is neither ominous nor gloomy. The Book of Common Prayer reminds us that ever since the first Advent we are living “in these last days” (BCP, p. 368). The Incarnation has set the clock ticking on human history. How and when will it end? We do not know; idle speculation about the end of times is a form of evading our responsibilities for the here and now. It reminds me of Martin Luther, who, when asked what he would do if he knew that Christ was returning the next day, replied, “I’d go plant a tree.”

Whole denominations have been formed, and more have been split, by speculations about the time and manner of the return of Christ. To me, discerning the times is not about predicting the future but about being so engaged in the present that, whenever it is Christ’s final visitation takes place, we are found awake and engaged in the business of making our lives and our world instruments of God’s reconciling love. Our lives are the texts contained within the two bookends of Advent.

If I were to speak to Grizzard’s editor, I would give him the following summaries of the New Testament, from our Book of Common Prayer:

Christ has died. We remember his death,
Christ is risen. We proclaim his resurrection,
Christ will come again. We await his coming in glory.

The Rev. Daniel Robayo is the missioner for Latino and Hispanic ministries for the Diocese of North Carolina. Contact him at [email protected].