The Light of Hope

Luke 21:25   

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.  People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.  Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.  Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

  Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees;  as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.  So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.  Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.  Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

 “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life and that day does not catch you unexpectedly,  like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.  ³⁶ Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place and to stand before the Son of Man.”

Four years ago on the first Sunday in Advent, the Centers for Disease Control reported that 270,000 Americans had died from Covid 19.  That was 270,000 empty seats at the Thanksgiving table, enough people to fill every seat in Dodger Stadium five times.  By the end of December, that number had climbed to 350,831^[1].  All in all, in the first four years of the pandemic more than 1.2 million Americans died.  Thanks to vaccines, increased awareness and improved health practices, only 43,360 people have died from Covid in the US this year.  But that is 43,000 reminders that the virus can still be a deadly threat.

Because of general economic disparity in our country, 47.4 million people live in households experiencing food insecurity.  17.9% of households with children under 18 were food insecure in 2024.  That’s actually a huge improvement over four years ago when 56% of such households were food insecure, but it still represents 14 million children who are at risk of going to bed hungry every night in a country that has more than enough resources to ensure that everyone has enough to eat.^[2]  And sadly, it almost goes without saying that rates of food insecurity are higher  among people of color and in single-parent households headed by women.

Because of the high cost and shortage of housing, more than 25% of renters in California spend more than 50% of their income on housing, and more than 160,000 experience homelessness on any given night.

On the other side of the world, Israel’s war against Hamas has degenerated from a justifiable defense into genocide in Gaza and the violence has expanded into Lebanon.  Russia’s aggressive war against Ukraine has become more dire as Russia has deployed a new nuclear capable hypersonic missle.  

Turning back to home, here in the US we are living in a time of political tension and uncertainty which our recent election has exacerbated as we brace ourselves for what comes next.

In so many ways and for so many of us, this is a grim and precarious time.  The words of Isaiah ring in us like a bell:

O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,

          so that the mountains would quake at your presence—  

          When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect,

          you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.^[3]

Like the people of Israel in Isaiah’s day, we find ourselves crying out in fear and frustration.  O God, why won’t you do for us the kinds of things you did in the past?  Where’s our parting of the sea?  Where is our manna falling from the sky?   Where is our just and prophetic leadership?  Where is the “righteous Branch for David” that Jeremiah promised, the one who will “execute justice and righteousness in the land?”^[4]

This feels like a grim and precarious time.  But then, it was a grim and precarious time for the people of Judah when Jeremiah spoke that promise.  It was a grim and precarious time when Isaiah begged God to break open the heavens and come down.  The people of the covenant were suffering under the harsh oppression of Babylon.  They wanted the same kind of divine intervention that so many of us are longing for right now.

It was a grim and precarious time when Jesus sat on the Mount of Olives and shared his apocalyptic vision of the temple’s destruction with his disciples. The people were chafing under the harsh and authoritarian governance of Rome.  And it was a grim and precarious time for Jesus, himself,  and for his disciples, even though at that moment the disciples seemed obtusely unaware of just how much danger they were facing.

As we read the story in the synoptic gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke, Jesus is telling his disciples about the coming time of turmoil just days before Judas betrays him and he is crucified.  And it’s also a very perilous time when the writer of Mark, the earliest Gospel, records all this.  Biblical scholar Ched Myers has suggested that Mark was writing his account during the Jewish revolt against Rome, the rebellion that ended with the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple.  There is a haunting and prophetic prescience when Jesus says,

“But in those days, after that suffering,

         the sun will be darkened,

                  and the moon will not give its light, 

         and the stars will be falling from heaven,

                  and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”

Luke expands on Mark’s words and broadens the reach of the calamity when he writes:

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.  People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.   

These words of Jesus take on new weight on the first Sunday of Advent when you think of them being spoken during a time of violent political oppression, a time when any hint of opposition to the empire’s political or social order is quickly and decisively squashed.  These words have a sharper edge when you think of them being written down and preserved while the streets of the city are filled with the noise and bloodshed of battle between Roman soldiers and Jewish partisans, or when you think of the followers of Jesus being tortured and persecuted by the agents of the empire.  

Beware.  Stay alert.  Stay awake.  The advice Jesus gives is practical.  Keep your eyes open.  Don’t fall for false messiahs and conmen.  Don’t make yourself crazy trying to figure out God’s timetable because only God knows.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride.  There will be trying times.  Stay awake.

Advent is a time for pragmatism and preparation. 

Advent is a time to walk into the turmoil and the pain of life with your eyes wide open.  In an age and a season when it is all too easy to live in denial, when we would love to jump straight to Christmas, Advent calls us to take a hard look at the world around us.  Advent calls us to see the world as it really is, to see ourselves as we really are, to open our eyes to things that we maybe don’t want to see, to listen to things we might prefer not to hear.  Advent calls us to be realistic…about the world and about ourselves. 

In 1952, as the Korean War was dragging on and the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union was becoming more intense, William and Annabeth Gay wrote a haunting and profound hymn that, to my mind, perfectly captures the spirit of Advent for our age.  The title that Annabeth gave it is Carol of Hope, but you might know it by its first line which is how it’s titled In most hymnals, a line that sounds anything but hopeful:  Each Winter As the Year Grows Older.^[5]

Each winter as the year grows older, 

we each grow older, too.  

The chill sets in a little colder; the verities we knew

seem shaken and untrue.

When race and class cry out for treason, 

when sirens call for war, 

they overshout the voice of reason and scream till we ignore

 all we held dear before.

Yet I believe beyond believing that life can spring from death,

that growth can flower from our grieving, 

that we can catch our breath

and turn transfixed by faith.

So even as the sun is turning to journey to the north,

the living flame, in secret burning, 

can kindle on the earth

and bring God’s love to birth.

O Child of ecstasy and sorrows, O Prince of peace and pain,

brighten today’s world by tomorrow’s,

renew our lives again;

Lord Jesus, come and reign!

Advent calls us to be realistic about the shadow side of life, to mark where we’ve not only grown older but colder, to notice where the verities we knew seem shaken and untrue.  Advent calls us to identify those voices that overshout the voice of reason so we can be more attentive to reason and to the Prince of peace and pain.  

But Advent doesn’t simply ask us to dwell in gloom and shadows.  Advent also calls us to bring light—four lights to restore brightness and health to a self, a nation, a world stumbling in murky clouds of doubt and fear—four lights to prepare the way for the true light of Christ. 

And the first light is Hope.

“Genuine hope is not blind optimism,” said Jürgen Moltmann.  “It is hope with open eyes, which sees the suffering and yet believes in the future.” And perhaps Barack Obama was thinking of Moltmann when he said, ““Hope is not blind optimism. It’s not ignoring the enormity of the task ahead or the roadblocks that stand in our path. It’s not sitting on the sidelines or shirking from a fight. Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us if we have the courage to reach for it, and to work for it, and to fight for it. Hope is the belief that destiny will not be written for us, but by us, by the men and women who are not content to settle for the world as it is, who have the courage to remake the world as it should be.”

Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us.

“The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for,” wrote Barbara Kingsolver. “And the most you can do  is live inside that hope.  Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.”^[6]

On this first Sunday of Advent, as we begin a new year in the calendar of the Church, we light the candle of Hope.  If the sun is darkened and the moon will not give its light and the stars seem to be falling, light the candle of hope.

If we are suffering now because of politics and war and the erosion of truth and trust, Saint Paul reminds us that, “suffering produces endurance,  and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,  and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”^[7]  “If we hope for what we do not see,” he said, “we wait for it with patience.”^[8]

So if it looks like the sun has been darkened and the moon won’t shine and the stars are falling and the world is more or less metaphorically ending, in the spirit of Advent, let’s be realistic and honest about it.  Let’s stay awake and aware.  And then let’s light a candle of Hope.  Because Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us.

May the God of hopefill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hopeby the power of the Holy Spirit.^[9]

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^[1] CDC National Center for Health Statistics;  2020 Final Death Statistics: Covid 19 as an Underlying Cause of Death vs. contributing Cause

^[2] Food Research and Action Center https://frac.org/news/usdafoodsecurityreportsept2024

^[3] Isaiah 64:1-2

^[4] Jeremiah 33:14-16

^[5] Each Winter As the Year Grows Older, William Gay, 1920-2008;

  Tune: Carol of Hope, Annabeth Gay, 1925-2020;  Evangelical Lutheran Worship, #252

^[6] Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

^[7] Romans 5:4-5

^[8] Romans 8:25

^[9] Romans 15:13