What Are You Waiting For?
a sermon by
Rev. Rebecca Segers
Isaiah 2:1-5
Matthew 24:36-44 

This is the first Sunday in Advent.  Now if you were looking for signs that Christmas is coming, you might have noticed when the first carol was played – I heard my first Christmas carol on the radio the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  Or when the first house covered in Christmas lights appeared – I think I saw a decorated house about a week ago.  Or you might have noticed when stores began selling Christmas supplies – lights, decorations, cards and other accoutrement – which this year was right around Halloween.

You may have noticed that my sermon title is “What Are You Waiting For?”  But if you were going by the culture in which we live, the question might instead be “Waiting for what?”  As far as the media, the marketing, the masses are concerned, we aren’t waiting for anything!  Christmas started coming a long time ago and by the time it actually gets here, we’re so sick of it we can’t see straight.  We’re glutted by decorations and mad rushes to buy presents for people we love and people we don’t even care about; we’re worn out from shopping and cooking and card-writing and calendar-arranging and menu-orchestrating and people-moving; we’re so overstuffed and over-partied and over-musicked and overblown, that we’re over it all before Christmas Day even gets here.  And then we look at our houses and our lives and wish we didn’t have to take down the tree and clean up the mess and write the thank-you letters and before you know it, it’s February and we haven’t thought of the real reason for the season once.

You see, Advent isn’t about the baby Jesus and the manger and the star.  Advent is about the “Waiting.”  It’s about the preparation that we go through in order to get to God’s arrival on earth.

You could say that we’re preparing with all the hustle-bustle that the season requires.  But we’re not really.  Oh, we’re preparing externals.  But we’re not preparing our hearts.  And I think that’s what Jesus is after.

In the Scripture lesson that we heard today, Jesus is telling the disciples about the parousia, or the Second Coming.  He warns them, that just as when Noah was building the ark in preparation, people were going about their business as usual.  They were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, working in the fields, basically going about their daily business, clueless as to the importance of the day the floods arrived.  After reminding them of this, Jesus tells several parables to accentuate his point, only the first of which we heard.

We heard the tale of the owner of the house who would have prepared for the thief coming in the night if only he had known at what hour that same thief would come.  This is followed by a story of good and wicked servants who are given an allowance by the master who leaves for a time.  The good servant takes the money and uses it wisely, working through the time that the master is gone.  The wicked servant takes the money and uses it to eat and drink and party, beating his fellow slaves and caring only for himself.  He is then shocked when the master arrives home unexpectedly and punishes him for his wicked behavior.

The third parable is of the ten bridesmaids who go to meet the bridegroom.  Five take lamps with no oil while the other five took flasks of oil along with their lamps.  The bridegroom is delayed.  Night comes; the bridesmaids fall asleep.  Then at midnight, the bridegroom shows up.  A shout goes out awaking the maidens.  The women arise and those who have oil trim their lamps in preparation.  The others ask to borrow some oil, but the five who have prepared tell them to go and buy some of their own, otherwise, there will not be enough to last and while the five go to buy it, the bridegroom comes, takes those who are ready into the banquet hall and shuts the door on the rest.

Finally, Jesus tells the story of the talents – the story we all know so well of the five, two and one talents given away to his slaves and the use they made of them while he was gone.  Remember, two slaves take the talents and multiply them, but the one buries his for fear of losing it, and as a consequence loses everything.

All these stories, these stories of preparation and waiting, are actually metaphors for the way that God wants us to celebrate our lives.  But as we prepare for Christmas, have we missed the point?  Have we forgotten what we’re doing?  Have we forgotten what we’re waiting for?

The Quakers don’t celebrate Christmas or Easter or any of the special services along the liturgical calendar.  The reason that they don’t is that they believe in trying to live as though every day is Christmas and Easter.  As though every day, the Lord is coming and the Lord is come.  As though every day has the kernel of the celebration of God’s love within it.

Have we become like the bridesmaids?  Like the ones who have the right emotion, but not the right preparation?  Readiness, for the writer of the gospel of Matthew, is all.  Remember, he is the writer of the Sermon on the Mount.  He has given us all the information we need to live a life worthy of the name “Christian,” and perhaps he is frustrated by the people of his day’s lack of follow-through.

Imagine how he would feel if he were to look at us here in twenty-first century America.  Because the fact of the matter is, we’re not very good at waiting at all.  That is obvious by looking at the decorations that have been up since Halloween and the reality that the day after Thanksgiving is known as Black Friday in the retail industry.  It’s the biggest shopping day of the year, the day that most Americans go out and begin taking care of Christmas shopping.  In the midst of our commercial experience, we’ve completely forgotten what Advent is supposed to be about.

One of the biggest complaints that I’ve heard in my short time in ministry is that we want to sing Christmas carols earlier and more.  But the fact of the matter is, Jesus isn’t born yet.  This period of Advent, these forty days of waiting before Christ’s birth starting now, up to and including Christmas Eve, were traditionally thought of in the church calendar as days of darkness.  The earth is getting darker every day.  The world is slowing down – literally – and figuratively it is dying.  This was a time of waiting for the bridegroom and fearing that he wouldn’t arrive.  A time of recognizing our own inner darkness and the need for God in our lives, visibly, tangibly, in order to counter that darkness.  And time of thoughtfulness, reflection, awareness of our own inability to be by ourselves that light that comes into the world on Christmas Day.  It was a time not unlike Lent.  Imagine that – the days leading up to Christmas being like Lent…

We don’t have time for quiet and calm and reflection and self-awareness.  Or do we?  I have a question for you:  what would it be like to truly celebrate a Sabbath day during this season – a day of waiting on and for God?

Deborah Shouse talks about her decision to take a true Sabbath – a day of rest and celebration.  She starts off by studying the Jewish Sabbath and its rules and regulations.  Some of the Orthodox prohibitions seemed like real blessings to her: no reaping or sowing, no cooking or baking, no weaving or washing of clothes, no catching or killing of animals.  But other rules seemed more difficult: no writing, no erasing, no lighting a fire of any kind, no driving or turning on lights.  Those seemed a bit over the top, so she called my friend, Rabbi Jeff Marker, for advice.

“Don’t get too lost in the rules,” he told her.  “Go ahead and turn on lights and heat up your food.  But don’t drive.  Staying within walking distance helps focus your spirituality.”

Okay, that was easy enough, she decided.  She wouldn’t drive, answer the phone, or turn on the computer or television.  However, she would turn on lights and use the microwave.

Those were the easy decisions.  Then came bigger question.  How would Deborah spend her day?  What would she do with all that “free time?”  Do any of us know how to “be with God?”

This time she called Sister Annie, a nun, spiritual director, and founder of Kansas City’s House of Menuha, a retreat center for women for her advice.  The answers to her questions were somewhat surprising.

“Let yourself stay in bed as long as you want,” Sister Annie advised. “Don’t put a time limit on anything. There’s something very freeing about being in a no-time-zone.”  She also suggested lighting candles and being gentle and kind to herself.

Deborah also reached out to Carol Meyer, director of WisdomWays Spirituality Ministry.  Her words were helpful, too.

“Go into nature.  Journal, meditate.  Leave space for silence,” Carol said. “Rest and take naps.”

Her research done, Deborah began to prepare for her Sabbath day.  She cleaned her house on Thursday, so that she would have a pleasant space for her day with God.  The next evening she had a quiet dinner with friends, sort of as a bon voyage party for herself.  When they left, she went to bed and read for awhile.  Eventually, she wondered what time it was and realized that it really wasn’t important.  She covered her alarm clock with a blanket so she wouldn’t be tempted to look, turned out the lights and went to sleep.

She awoke the next morning to sunlight bathing her bed.  She was still tired, but didn’t know what time it was.  She remembered Sister Annie’s advice and snuggled back to sleep.  She woke up again shortly, anxious.  What if she were sleeping away her whole Sabbath day?  She sat up, ready to jump into her clothes.  Then she reminded herself: There is no time on this day.  She burrowed under the covers and went back to sleep.  And each time she woke up, she asked herself: “Am I really ready to leave the cozy comfort of my bed?  Do I really want to wake up?”  And finally, there came a point where she did.

After getting up, Deborah sat down to meditate – something that wasn’t on her everyday agenda and was truly not easy to do.  After meditating for what seemed like an eternity, she couldn’t take it any longer.  She had to see what time it was.  She unveiled the clock and – it was only 8:30 in the morning.

So she decided to go for a walk.  She walked wherever her intuition led her, toward the street shaded with trees, toward the blush of roses on the corner.  Once again her thoughts crowded out some of her enjoyment, telling her she was walking too far, not far enough, she wouldn’t know the way home, asking her how she would know when it was time to go home.  Eventually, a light rain solved the problem for her, sending her back to her house for the subsequent phase in her journey.

Next, she sat on the porch and looked through a book of spiritual quotations.  “God, make me an instrument of your peace,” she read aloud, letting the words of St. Francis fill her.  Then suddenly Francis and his peace left and Deborah was filled with worry: Did she have enough money to pay my homeowner’s insurance and credit-card minimum?  She wondered whether real instruments of peace worried about money.  This rest and rejuvenation thing was harder than she’d thought it would be.

She lit a red candle and stared at the flame. The rain came down harder, pounding the ground and she listened to the cars swishing through the wetness.  She noticed the tapping of raindrops on the oak leaves and the stiletto sound on the sidewalk.  Then she worried that her neighbors would notice her sitting on the porch doing nothing, and think, “If she has so much spare time, why doesn’t she weed out her dandelions?”

That thought sent her back inside where the phone rang and with it, her whole body tensed.  She turned the ringer off and made a cup of tea.  She opened the box of Fudgesicles she had bought for this occasion; they were a favorite childhood treat that she hadn’t tasted in decades.  Deborah slumped on the sofa, the warm cup of tea resting on her stomach, the icy sweetness of the Fudgesicle filling her mouth.  For some moments, she felt nothing but those tastes, and a delicious feeling of careless freedom.  Then, suddenly, she felt tired, though she realized she had no excuse for feeling worn out.  Still, she followed Carol Meyer’s advice and went to her room for a nap.

The day continued in the same gentle rolling fashion.  Rest, thoughts, emotions roiling inside her, leading her gently to thoughts about her life that needed to be thought, emotions that needed to be felt, and ultimately a closeness to God that she hadn’t known was possible.

When the sun began to fade on the horizon, she was embraced by the twilight and felt peaceful and spiritually at ease.  She felt great truths were lurking beside her and God’s presence within her.  When darkness came, Deborah lit a candle and prayed that she would not forget how good it felt to spend a day waiting on God and with herself.

This is the kind of peace that we all need to feel, especially in this time of year that is so fraught with activity.  However, we find it difficult to wait for a few moments, much less spend a whole day waiting.  Yet the irony of our inability to wait is that almost every part of our daily lives is chock-full of waiting.  A mix of waiting, planning and anticipation infiltrates all we do.  From the simplicity involved in waiting for a teakettle to boil or a school bus to arrive, to the emotion wrapped up in the wait for a beloved friend to drive into the driveway or at a doctor’s office for an appointment and the resulting prognosis or for a phone call that might contain the news we dread, we are waiting every single day of our lives.  Sometimes in the midst of our hurry this season, we find ourselves waiting even more than usual – waiting on line at the department store or the bank, waiting to pick up the Christmas pies or mail the packages at the Post Office, waiting for friends to come over or the pageant rehearsal to end.  We wait and feel the tension within ourselves stretched to bursting.  We want to scream our frustration, we can’t wait for the season to be over…

But I would like for us to take a tip from those feelings this year.  As we begin the journey that is the Advent season, this season that is supposed to be about waiting, about watching, about strengthening our relationship to God while waiting for the celebration of his birth in human form on Christmas Day, we need to take some time to reflect upon the waiting.  Maybe you are not able to give a whole day, as Deborah Shouse did, but perhaps you can give a morning.  Or an afternoon.  Perhaps I, you, we all can take time to intentionally participate in the waiting period before Christmas this year.  Perhaps in doing so, we'll begin to discover why we're asked to wait and what we should be doing while we wait.  Perhaps we can begin to see how God uses our everyday waiting times to parallel the journey that is our spiritual life.

If we are able to do this, maybe we can get to the ultimate question of what we are waiting for.  As you make your way through Advent this year, take a moment here and there to ask yourself just that: “What am I waiting for?”  Are you waiting for friends and family to arrive with all the pain and pleasure that ensues when you get large numbers of people together who don’t always see eye to eye?  Are you waiting for one of those friends or family members to apologize so that you can then begin to rebuild relationship with him or her?  Are you waiting for someone to invite you to his or her home for dinner or a celebratory outing?  Are you waiting for a check to come in so that you can purchase gifts for others?  Are you waiting for Christmas cards so you know to whom you must reciprocate?  What are you waiting for?

Are you waiting for God to come to earth?

This is the question that Jesus is asking today.  And the truth that he tells us is that if we truly are, if we truly are waiting for God to come to earth, it would change the way we treat all the other waiting that we do at this time of year and beyond.

So tell me, what are you waiting for?