Isaiah 64:1-9 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 Mark 13:24-37 Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18
I pray that your Thanksgiving was joyful though it may have been non-typical this year. As is true in most years, this Sunday following Thanksgiving Day begins our new Church year – the season of Advent, a time when our themes are keeping alert, being prepared, waiting with anticipation for the coming of Christ at the Nativity and the coming of Christ at the end of time.
On Thanksgiving Day of 1945, my father waited with anticipation on a cold street corner in Sanford, North Carolina. Tugging his wool jacket a little closer and pulling his Army cap down over his head against the chill, he had no idea how long he would have to wait. Yet, the length of his wait was not a source of distress. He was prepared to wait as long as was necessary.
He had seen London leveled by German bombings; he had slogged through the mud of northern France; he had spent long dark nights on the snow-covered ground of Belgium; he had witnessed the remains of one of humanity’s most horrendous atrocities as he moved through the liberated death camps of western Germany. All he could ever say about that was, “so many bodies, so many bodies.”
Throughout it all, it was his imaginings of this day – the anticipation of this day – this day that had now come, this day that had kept hope alive, warmed his soul, and kept him fighting the good fight toward the goal of a better world for future generations.
And, there were good times; there were the cozy haylofts offered by hospitable French dairy farmers; there were hot meals offered by grateful European countrymen and women; there were faithful friends and loyal troop mates and strong devoted leaders. There had even been times in the previous summer when he could offer his agricultural expertise in helping families reclaim their bombed-out fields and begin again growing crops to feed their families.
But, throughout it all, it was this day for which he had prepared his heart – this chilly November day somewhere in the future that was the focus of his dreams – that gave him the energy to find joy in his day and bring joy to others.
Finally, the day had come, and he waited, alert to the approaching traffic. In the distance, at long last, the little Ford coupe approached the intersection as the light changed to red, and my mother obediently stopped, interrupting the reunion for one more brief moment – one more brief moment to give thanks to God for safe arrival home and a new beginning. The future was quite uncertain, but nothing mattered except that the war was over and he had returned safely.
The 13th Chapter of Mark’s Gospel, from which we have heard Jesus’ predictions of the End Times, is considered the Little Apocalypse. Jesus speaks of the time of arrival for which we are to be prepared when the Son of Man will come with great power and glory; our perception of the times often strikes fear in us weak humans. We are not to know the time; the time is God’s time; the time is in God’s hands.
Yet, we are to remain alert with great anticipation regardless of the duration of the waiting; we are to prepare for the time by living into the kingdom that is here and now, praying that God’s will will be done on earth as it is in heaven, praying that God’s kingdom will come to earth. We are to trust in the promise of everlasting life and not be afraid.
With faith in the promise, we anticipate this day with joy. In times of distress and in times of gladness, and even in the face of uncertainty, our peace lies in the assurance of everlasting life, gathered from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven, in the hands of our loving Father God, our Creator. For the faithful, nothing about the hardships really matters when compared to the Eternal joy of the true day of thanksgiving that is to come – that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal.