Restore Us Advent 1 B

Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved (Ps.80:7).

Here it is, another New Year’s Day for the church, first Advent, Late November, and we have sometimes grey skies, and sometimes it is sunny enough to feel summery but for the slight chill in the air.
God, your church has rounded out another year and again we are called into Advent waiting.  Again, we see the reminders of the end-times, here in the Gospel of Mark. 
And again, I am reminded of the many times we have predicted these times, only to get it wrong.  Who are we to guess at the wonders of the deep?  Of the God who created the Leviathan?  Who are we to guess at times and seasons?

Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Yet you call us once more into restoration.  Every moment you call us, and the liturgical year reminds us of this.  As persons, as churches, as the whole world, you are constantly calling us.  We hear your voice on the wind.  Sometimes it sounds near, and other times it is far off, as if we are walking a labyrinth with you, sometimes getting closer to the center of you, reminded of our walks with you in Jesus, and sometimes just feeling the brush of your Spirit on our faces as we smile at a loved one.

 And sometimes we don’t hear you at all.  We may go through periods of dryness—Goodness knows the saints often have!  When all we can do to feel you is to gather near the flame of another’s faith; to gather here at church and see at least a reflection of your flame on another’s face.[1]

Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Each year we are called into restoration, just at that moment when we are the most off our rockers, frenzied with preparation to pull together family events that strain hearts and budgets, that also bring mirth and togetherness and love. 

They can also bring sadness, as we remember those that aren’t here.  How do we feel restored when we are so stretched? 

Ah, you say, be alert.
Alert, we say?  We are already too alert.[2]  We have consumed our pumpkin spice latte (or was it a gingerbread mocha?)  while standing in line on Black Friday, fears of pepper spray dancing in our heads as we pounce like a cat on a mouse on the next deal?

Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Breathe, you say, breathe into the presence.  Take a page from the Buddhists.  Be here now.  Not there, already at Christmas, but here in Advent. 

 As we are reminded that just like when we waited for you so many years hence, we won’t have a clue when you’re coming now.  There are no chocolate Advent calendars for the true next Advent.  Use the signs and rituals of this time to pray into the meditation of “already and not yet.”[3]  God is already here.  “God is faithful, by him you are called into fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord” (1 Cor. 1:9).  God is faithful, already here, but we are not altogether reunited yet.  Our hearts are still growing big enough to fit Spirit. 

Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

 Restore us, God, this year and every year, this moment and every moment, to be awake yet breathing, attuned less to the shopping deals as to the clear night’s sky, drinking in less caffeine and more chamomile.  Help us to pray more than shop, to linger over moments with friends and loved ones more than stress over the baking and wrapping.  Restore us, and help us to remember that you are already here with us.  And that we as Christians are always a bit on the fringes of the culture—living into the merriment yet prayerfully open to difference, open to the Spirit, open to the coming of a little child in the form of God.  Amen.

---

[1] Rodney Clapp, “In a dry season,” Christian Century (November 15, 2011), 45.

[2] Lillian Daniel, “Pastoral Perspective: Mark 13:24-37,” FOTW Year B Vol. 1.

[3] Martin B. Copenhaver, “Homiletical Perspective: Mark 13:24-37,” FOTW Year B, Vol. 1.