WE ARE APPROACHING the end of the liturgical year, and the texts have a thread of anticipation running through them. We are deep into the promises conveyed by the prophets and the eschatological vision cast by Jesus. The texts are inviting us to prepare ourselves for something — but what, exactly?
The last Sunday in November, in many traditions, is the Advent Sunday of hope. In biblical Greek, the verb is elpizō (“hope”), which means to wait for salvation with both joy and full confidence. When we hope, we wait not out of boredom or a lack of options but in full confidence that what we are waiting for will arrive. This is the same word used in Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” The word “assurance” here can also be translated as “foundation,” as in that of a house. Faith is what anchors our hope into the ground and allows it to stand upright. Faith also often requires that we act before we see. Our hope is first materialized in our faith before it is ever materialized in our reality. Hope pushes us to walk, move, and live as if what we’ve hoped for has already arrived.
Perhaps this moment calls to us to build foundations for the futures we need in defiance of our present realities. Our texts dare us to live into new possibilities, even as our current condition offers far fewer promises.
November 6
Does the Afterlife Matter?
Haggai 1:15 - 2:9; Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17; Luke 20:27-38
I REMEMBER HAVING a crisis of faith as a young adult, wrestling with what comes after our last breath and whether I’d done enough to earn a heavenly reward. Something about the Christian teaching I’d been exposed to felt disjointed to me, as if we existed just to do all the things that would one day get us into heaven. Meanwhile, in the neighborhood where I worshiped, there were as many churches as dilapidated homes, and the grocery stores were a scarcity. Gun violence was commonplace. In hindsight, I realize the neighborhood was shaped by discriminatory redlining policies. Blessings and blight coexisted on the same block, and we all seemed to accept it. But I had to ask, What about this life? Did God care about us before our baptisms were complete?
Haggai prophesied to a Jewish community that had returned to Judah from exile and experienced a letdown in the process. Things were not as they had hoped. Reality paled in comparison to the former glory of the Jerusalem they had known or heard about. Did God care about their present reality? Were the community’s best days behind it? Haggai’s oracle promised a future far brighter than the past. The returning exiles could take heart because God indeed cared and had not left them.
The Sadducees rejected the resurrection of the dead because it was not explicitly mentioned in the Torah. In Jesus’ discourse with the Sadducees, he affirms that God is God of the living. That exchange doesn’t mean that what happens after this life is irrelevant. It does mean that what happens in our current reality matters to God. If it matters to God, it should also matter to us. God is looking to us to co-create the glory, splendor, and belonging we long to see. Our faith is so much more than an afterlife insurance policy.
November 13
Our Tottering Temples
Malachi 4:1-2; Psalm 98; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN the things in which we put our trust — institutions, nations, economies — begin to crumble before us?
The gospel reading from Luke is set in the same temple referenced in Malachi. This is the Second Temple, built after Judah had returned from 70 years of exile in Babylon and after Nehemiah had refortified Jerusalem. Malachi was called to prophesy to a community that was again approaching the same apostasy that originally led to the exile. They were creating economic vulnerability through divorce and depressed wages. The priests were lax in their liturgical duties and leading people to a watered-down faith. The people groaned because all this was happening right under God’s nose. Where was God as this injustice persisted? Through Malachi’s prophecy, God promised to deliver a day when all evildoers will burn and those “who revere my name ... shall rise.”
Earlier in Luke 21, Jesus made an example of a widow who had just put her last two coins in the temple coffers (verses 1-4) — not because of her generosity but because she was being exploited. Had her community done as scripture instructed them, she’d have more than two coins to her name. Jesus left that encounter only to hear people marveling at the majesty of the temple. He had to remind them that the temple is ephemeral. All will be thrown down eventually, but by the peoples’ endurance they would gain something with much more permanence: their souls.
Our faith foundation should be made of something stronger than systems and structures. The last time I preached from these texts was the Sunday after the 2016 presidential election; I chose them because I recognized we would need endurance for the work ahead. That is still true today.
November 20
Pledging Allegiance
Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 46; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43
REIGN OF CHRIST Sunday has resonance for any church leader accused in these times of being “too political” in their preaching and teaching. Pope Pius XI instituted this feast day in December 1925. One begins to understand why when we consider the times. In July 1925, Adolf Hitler published the first volume of his manifesto, Mein Kampf. In August 1925, approximately 40,000 members of the Ku Klux Klan marched on Washington, D.C. With membership of nearly 5 million, the KKK was reputed to be the largest fraternal organization in the U.S. at the time. In October, the Locarno Treaties divided Europe into eastern and western sections. The aftermath of World War I saw growing nationalist sentiment throughout the world. That same year, Mussolini became the fascist head of the Italian Republic and was actively trying to win over Italy’s Roman Catholic majority through several religious appeasements. Pope Pius XI wanted to counter what he perceived to be unhealthy nationalism and called the church to declare Christ’s kingship over all of creation. In other words, no matter one’s nation of citizenship, the first identity and allegiance of a Christian is to Jesus.
Jeremiah 23 speaks of the fall of Jerusalem to Babylonian forces as it is happening. The leaders have endangered the sheep with their reckless shepherding. God would, however, “raise up for David a righteous Branch” (verse 5) who would be called “The Lord is our righteousness” (verse 6). In other words, the people would proclaim that power belongs not to Nebuchadnezzar, Cyrus, or any other king or emperor but to God alone. That is a political statement. We also must keep in mind how political the assertion of Jesus’ kingship was in first century Palestine. “King” is a civil distinction and is inherently political. To call Jesus a king was to displace the Roman Empire and its religious establishment from preeminence in one’s life.
November 27
Eternal Vigilance
Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44
LONGING FOR GOD and God’s Anointed to enter into and change the human condition is a well-established tradition for Jesus’ community. The Isaiah text promises restoration for a ravaged Jerusalem and a new paradigm of peace, but only “in the last days” (2:2) — a timeline that was nebulous at best! Restoration was imminent, but not immediate. In Matthew 24, Jesus issued a similar promise to his disciples concerning his own return on a timeline unknown even by the angels (verse 36). What is known is that Jesus promised to return “like a thief in the night” (verse 43). The exhortation, therefore, was to “keep watch,” stay awake.
During Advent, we tap into the anticipation of pre-Common Era Jews under Roman occupation. They actively waited for an Anointed One to save and vindicate them. For Christians, however, we mark the arrival of the Anointed One when we celebrate Christmas. In that regard, we sometimes let our anticipation become contrived. But our God is both already born for us and still to come. What is our posture while living in the here and now and also while waiting? What foundations are we creating now for the structures that will come later? The word “woke” in some circles has become trite and pejorative. But the admonition to “stay woke” emerged from movements that understood how building a better reality requires constant vigilance. We cannot rest on laurels of the past because freedom, like most gifts, must be maintained, cultivated, and preserved. Advent is the season to prepare for not only Jesus’ birth or triumphant return at the end of the age but for his arrival in all areas of life in this age. Not a single area of our lives should be left untouched. The Anointed One arrives into all of life to redeem all of life.
T. Denise Anderson is acting director of Racial Equity and Women's Intercultural Ministries at the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) and lives in Maryland.
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