Advent Preparations

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Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,

‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way;

the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,

make his paths straight” .

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, ‘The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with* water; but he will baptize you with* the Holy Spirit.’


I like to be prepared. In the fourth grade, a friend had a birthday party at table tennis hall. So to prepare, I bought my own paddle, practiced at home as much as I could, and showed up to that party ready to take names (which in fact I did). If guests are coming over, the baseboards of my house have to be clean. I will spend a good hour on my knees wiping to make sure the dog hair and baby puff crumbs are gone. In college, I would stay up for hours studying for the smallest quiz. I think its something I’ve inherited from my mom (thanks mother), but it’s also my own way of making me feel like I am in control, like everything will be okay, like I can determine how things are going to turn out.

Preparation is obviously helpful and necessary; But, what I think lurks behind our preparation, or practice, or training of any kind, is this notion or feeling that I can depend wholly on myself, because I’m prepared. I don’t need anyone or anything else. I control how things will go for me. And when we think or act that way, what we’ve done without even recognizing it often is make ourselves into an idol, trusting myself and my preparation more than anything else, like it can save me, whatever comes my way. I become my own god; a savior of my own doing.

As Martin Luther puts it, “Anything on which your heart relies and depends, I say, that is really your God”.

But it doesn’t take many trips around the sun to learn that no matter how much one has prepared in life, things do always go as one hopes. There are times when we still mess up; when we do get it right; times when no matter how hard we try, we can’t control what happens.

No matter how many books you read or podcasts you listen to, I’ve learned quickly as a parent that you make many mistakes just in the course of a day: like getting angry when your son swings his foot wildly during a diaper change, getting poop all over the changing table.

Or we read a book, a devotional, a piece of Scripture instructing us, preparing us to love our neighbors, yet from behind the safety and distance of a screen we say nasty, hurtful things about those libs or the right wingers or those trans people.

And no amount of preparation would have readied the nearly two million people in Gaza who are now displaced with virtually no place to turn that isn't already bombed out or could be.

We talk and hear a lot about how Advent is a season of preparation. We count down with calendars, put up trees, and decorate our homes. But it seems John the Baptist called for a different kind of preparation.

The Gospel of Mark begins with this strange man, wearing even stranger clothes, shouting in the wilderness: “prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight”. I wonder if when the people heard this, they were caught off guard. Perhaps they thought, “we weren’t ready for this; we haven’t prepared for the Messiah to come now. How does one even prepare for the Messiah?”

John the Baptist gave them a way, telling people “here’s how you prepare: confess your sins, receive forgiveness, and repent of your ways”. John offered the people a baptism of repentance;

a chance to admit their shortcomings, be made clean in the Jordan river, and walk away changed. And people came in droves; people from the cities, from the countryside, from all over to confess, be forgiven and repent. And you know who came to John in the wilderness to be baptized? It wasn’t the ones who felt in control and thought everything was fine. Not the ones who were self-determinate and well prepared.

It was the ones who messed up, who had made mistakes and failed. It was the ones who tried to be their own god, failed, and realized their need for a savior. And doing all of this in the wilderness was no accident. Afterall, it was in the wilderness where the Israelites were instructed not to prepare for the next day, but gather only enough manna to eat that very day, making them see their need and trust that God will provide and not themselves.

Advent preparation for us then is also confession, forgiveness, and repentance. It’s confessing that we too aren’t prepared for God to come among us and do what God has planned.

It’s recognizing that the world around us is a mess and so am I. And that no matter how hard we may try to get things in order, to make the paths straight, and to fix the brokenness both in and around us, we simply can’t. Our preparation or training will always fall short. There will always be problems we can’t solve, situations we can’t control, and yet we will still try to depend on ourselves and no one else.

In response, John the Baptist says repent; give up all that you're holding onto: the fear of failure, the need to be perfect, the idea that you can rely solely on yourself and no one else. I hope you hear this invitation of repentance as good news. Because repenting isn’t about remorse or guilt, but about being freed from all that weight and expectation you put on yourself.

Once we’ve done that, we can see the gift that God gives us, namely a Messiah, for what and who he really is. We’re given a savior so that we don’t have to be our own, because we can’t be.

A savior who takes away all that sin and expectation and through the Holy Spirit, gives us faith to trust in God alone. Instead of trusting in ourselves, in our preparation (or our money or privilege or anything else) in giving us Jesus,

it’s as if God says to us, “Whatever good thing you lack, look to Jesus for it and seek it from him, and whenever things don’t go as you hoped, crawl and cling to me. I, myself, will give you what you need and help you… Only do not let your heart cling to or rest in anyone else, including yourself”.

Above all, Advent preparation is acknowledging that we need a savior; we need God here and now, at work in us and in the world. I’m not saying we shouldn’t put out the nativity and decorate the tree. Those are meaningful traditions no doubt. But preparing for Christmas, for Christ’s coming, is first and foremost acknowledging the need for his coming. Afterall, what good is Christmas if we don’t see the need for a savior?

A friend in seminary said to me, “things must not be too bad here if God came down to live” to which I said, “or things were just so absolutely terrible that God had no other choice. God had to come”. Yet, to this I would add that God also desired to dwell among us, to be Emmanuel, God with us. In abounding love, God came because despite our preparation and our attempts to be our own god, things didn’t go the way we hoped… for ourselves, for others, for the world around us.

But thats the good news in all of this. That the Messiah has come, is coming again, and that the Messiah isn’t you. You can’t save yourself nor the world, no matter how well you think you’ve prepared or how hard you try. Only God can do that and will do that, in God’s own timing.

Until then, we prepare for Jesus' advent by confessing our sins, receiving forgiveness, and giving up our idolatry; because, ready or not, here he comes. Amen.

The Advent We Actually Have

Pastor Cogan led a great, thoughtful discussion yesterday about Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The plan for yesterday and the next couple of these Tuesday lunchtime gatherings is to reflect on some letters from Bonhoeffer – one of our better known Lutheran theologians and heroes – that he wrote during the seasons of Advent and Christmas during his life, which was lived in the early to mid-1900’s. Other than his books, other writings and teaching, Bonhoeffer is known for having participated in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler during the second World War. He was put to death, himself – a martyr – because of it.

I don’t want to go down that road now, but our discussion yesterday had me thinking about what we’re up to tonight and what we’ve invited one another to this time around where our Advent walk is concerned.

One of the things we reflected on and talked about yesterday, was a painting Bonhoeffer referred to in one of his letters. He was writing from prison, to his parents, and referenced this painting by Albrecht Altdorfer. It’s called, simply, “The Nativity” and, as you can see, it’s not exactly full of the kind of Christmas spirit most people go looking for.

Bonhoeffer marveled that this painting was done 400 years or so before his time, in 1507, to be specific, but that the artist somehow captured something surprisingly relevant and meaningful about the world as Bonhoeffer was experiencing it as a political prisoner in a recently bombed-out prison, somewhere in war-torn Germany, circa 1943.

And it reminded me of something else I’ve seen and read about this week. This is the nativity scene on display these days in the worship space at Christmas Lutheran Church, in Bethlehem, Palestine. Instead of a Christmas tree this time around, the church has created this display from debris like that found in nearby Gaza these days, and they will be limiting their Christmas celebrations to less-than-festive prayers and rituals, in solidarity with the suffering that consumes their part of the world these days.

And THAT reminded me of an image I used a few years back, on the First Sunday after Christmas, where we often read about King Herod and his murderous “Slaughter of the Innocents.” This piece of art was created by the disguised, mysterious, anonymous artist known as Banksy. He called it “The Scar of Bethlehem.”

At the time, in 2019, there wasn’t a full-blown war raging in the region, but the piece was a response to and a depiction of the ever-present tension and division and struggle that seems to be bubbling just beneath the surface there – when it hasn’t erupted like it did, again, on October 7th. Notice the star looks like it was created by a bullet in the wall that divides and surrounds the Palestinians in so many ways. With graffiti there are words and symbols for “peace,” “love,” and “freedom” spray-painted behind the Holy Family.

And, finally, I thought about this image, too. It’s called “Jose y Maria” and done by a cartoonist named Everett Patterson. It’s full of clever allusions to the biblical story of Jesus’ birth, which you’ll have fun finding if you look it up and spend some time with it on your own. But you can see the “Smoke Weisman Cigarettes” ad, the neon “Star Beer” sign, the lack of vacancy at the “city of David” Motel, which also cleverly has the word manger included. And I love how Maria is sitting on that penny pony ride, like I used to ride at K-Mart when I was a kid.

Anyway all of this contemporary artwork, in light of the painting that Pastor Cogan shared with us yesterday, reminded me that there’s nothing new under the sun – these beautiful, haunting, faithful attempts at finding relevance and meaning in the Christmas story for our day and age. Banksy, Patterson and Bonhoeffer, too, are just trying to put the season of Advent and the coming of Jesus into some perspective for a world that simultaneously suffers and struggles in so many ways, but longs for the peace and good news and comfort and joy God promises.

And all of that makes me think of the devotional we hope you’re reading spending time with during these Advent days, this time around, courtesy of Kate Bowler. It’s called, simply “The Advent We Actually Have,” which is all we can have, all we can ask for, and all we can do, when it comes right down to it, right?

The Christians in Palestine are left to celebrate and look for God among the rubble and in the darkness and despair and the noise of the war that surrounds them.

Bonhoeffer was left to look for God in the loneliness and uncertainty and fear of his captivity.

Jose and Maria – the Joseph and Mary of every generation – are left to look for Jesus with the hope, curiosity, and fear that go along with an unknown future – and possibly unwanted – an unwanted pregnancy.

And we are left, no matter how much we decorate or dress up or dream about what all of this Advent waiting will mean this time around – with the Advent we actually have, just the same.

“The Advent we actually have” includes the grief that still lingers for so many who’ve lost loved ones and it includes the joy of new life some have celebrate.

“The Advent we actually have” matters for the successful healing and good health that belongs to some and it matters for the diagnoses yet to be delivered to others.

“The Advent we actually have” comes with promise for the budding relationships some are experiencing and it comes for the relationships crumbling like dust that too many others know.

And “the Advent we actually have” comes for those of us – maybe most of us – who have a little bit of all the above in our lives on any given day.

And the good news of grace we’re waiting for, in Jesus, reminds us that God is here for it … that God is here for all of it … that God is here for all of us … no matter where we find ourselves as we make our way to the manger.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.