Advent 1 C: Courage!

Luke 21:25-36

Dear Working Preacher,

Let me venture an assertion. It is, unfortunately, not a new assertion, but important to reiterate nonetheless: the greatest challenge we face today is not war, or economic inequity, or community unrest, or prejudice, or division, but fear.

Why? Because fear is at the root of all these other things I just mentioned. Think about it. From Pharaoh in the first chapter of Exodus (v. 8-10) to today’s despots, fear is the means by which we turn those who are in some fashion different from us into an enemy, a people against whom we should war. Fear causes us to horde, assuming we will never have enough and seeing those around us as competitors for scarce resources. Fear drives wedges of distrust into our communities that fracture solidarity and compassion. Fear causes us to define ourselves and those around us not by what we share but by what makes us different. Fear creates an “either/or” and “us/them” mentality that makes it nearly impossible to find common ground, let alone see each other sympathetically. Fear, in short, drives us inward, hardens our hearts, darkens our vision, and stunts our imagination.

So I’ll say it again: the greatest challenge we face today is fear. And I suspect that as poignant and painful that observation feels to me just now, it’s likely always been true. Why else is the most common command and promise in Scripture, “Do not fear”? More than 120 times across the biblical narrative, some angel or priest or prophet or absolutely ordinary person says, usually on behalf of God, “Do not fear!”

Which is perhaps why this year I have been drawn once again to the words of promise and courage embedded at the close of the opening paragraph, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (21:28). It’s a promise that is easy to miss, because “these things” refers to foreboding signs in the earth and heavens, distress and tumult among people, the powers of the day being shaken, and the coming of the apocalyptic “son of man” in power and glory.

Fearful indeed. Enough that, “People will faint with fear and foreboding about what is coming upon the earth” (26). And yet Jesus tells his disciples to “stand up and raise your heads.” Why? Not, I think, because this is code language or a secret sign that the end of the world is nigh and so eternal victory for the faithful just around the corner. Rather, it is because, even though “heaven and earth will pass away, my words will not pass away.”

And what are those words? Given the immediately proximity of this scene and the commencement of Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection, it seems more than reasonable to look there for an answer. So… take your pick: “This is my body, given for you; this is my blood shed for you.” Jesus’ promise of his continued and real presence with his disciples. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Jesus’ promise of forgiveness…no matter what. “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus’ promise of eventual and ultimate rest and comfort. “Peace be with you.” Jesus’ promise that his resurrection spells an end to death and the cycle of violence and revenge. “You are witnesses to these things.” Jesus’ promise of purposeful and fruitful work for his disciples to spread the message of “goodwill and peace” articulated at the very beginning of the Gospel, reiterated all the way through, and consummated in the resurrection.

Across the board, Jesus promises not to abandon his disciples amid the tumult and trauma of the world but to be with them, strengthen and encourage them, and equip them not merely to endure the challenges of the day but to flourish. Jesus’ promises, I want to be clear, do not eliminate fear or hardship from the lives of his disciples – then or now – but rather create courage, the ability to be faithful, to do one’s duty, to retain vision and compassion and empathy, even while afraid.

Which means that even amid the tumult and trauma of our age, we are not helpless. While we still wait Jesus’ complete redemption, yet we have good work to do in the meantime. And we undertake the good work of being Jesus’ disciples in the world – the work of compassion for those who are hurting, encouragement to those who are afraid, solidarity with those who are oppressed, resistance to evil, forgiveness for those who have wronged us, and acceptance of all of God’s people – not because we believe our actions will change the world, but because we know Christ’s resurrection has already changed the world. We act, that is, in the confidence that Jesus’ promises are trustworthy.

At times, I know, our various actions of compassion and encouragement and solidarity and resistance and forgiveness and acceptance may seem like very small gestures. But in light of Jesus’ promise, we realize that there are no small gestures, only actions motivated by the love and courage of Christ. And I firmly believe that no action done in love and courage, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

It is not our job to save the world, Dear Partner, but rather, and because Jesus has promised to save the world, it is our job to care for those in the little corner of the world we happen to inhabit. It is our job, that is, to offer an alternative to the fear that so corrodes the world. And in offering courage and compassion as an alternative, be obedient to Christ’s command: “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (21:28).

Your words, Dear Partner, can also seem like a small, even hollow, gesture, in light of the fear all around. But trust me when I say that, through the Spirit of Christ, they will make far more of a difference than you imagine. Indeed, they may make all the difference for some of those who hear you. Thank you for your faith, courage, and love. And blessings on your proclamation.

Yours in Christ,
David