St. Luke's Episcopal Church
Cleveland, Tennessee

First Sunday of Advent
November 30, 2008
Mark 13:(24-32) 33-37
Mrs. Pam Park

STAY AWAKE

As I contemplate the fact that the calendar year 2008 is swiftly drawing to a close and that Advent is at hand once again, I can hardly believe that the seasons pass so quickly. We hear the sounds of birdsong and see the new growth of Spring. We feel the light and the warmth of Summer, and experience the brilliant colors of Autumn fading into the darkness and chill of Winter. We live our lives in the midst of the seasons of our natural environment—year in and year out.

In the church we speak of seasons as well. This week we begin a new church year with Pentecost green changing to Advent blue. The blue of Advent is a deep, royal color. It is a dark, somewhat mystical, color reminding us that a king will soon be in our midst. His coming is in the darkest part of the year when light is sparse and the world cold. This year we sense the cold and dark in any number of ways, not the least of which is within the economic crisis that grips our nation and the world, and within the shock of terror attacks that strike fear in our hearts.

Yet Advent blue holds within it a promise of the coming of the Christ, who came among us once as a tiny baby, living out his ministry among us, dying in our midst and on our behalf, and promising us that he will come again. The Season of Advent is pregnant with the joy and peace that only Christ can bring--a warmth and promise that can penetrate even the darkest, coldest night.

Just as Joseph and Mary prepared a manger bed for their baby over 2000 years ago, we must prepare a place for him in our hearts and in our lives. As a grown man, deep in his ministry, Jesus called his disciples—and he calls us today—to keep awake.

What did he mean when he warned those around him to “keep awake?” When I hear these words, I think of being awakened spiritually. The word “insight” comes to me, the definition of which is “apprehending the inner nature of things.” Insight is a mysterious word to me. It reminds me of the times when I have been the most spiritually awake and energized.

I think of the young woman, Mary, and how she must have felt as she opened her heart to the message of the Angel, Gabriel, telling her that she would become the Mother of God. I think of the blind man who was awakened by the healing touch of Christ—and his eyes were opened. I think of Mary Magdalen as she encountered the Risen Christ outside the empty tomb. I think of Saul who apprehended the true nature of Christ on the road to Damascus.

Keeping awake is encountering the mysteries of the faith with an open heart and spiritual senses ready to be enlivened. Yet, how many of us could live in a heightened spiritual state day in and day out. We are human, and it is our nature to fall asleep.

Sometimes when I come to Eucharist tired and complacent, out of duty more than desire, I find that I can be enfolded in the music and verse of a familiar hymn and roused from my drowsiness by the symbolism of the cross as it passes in procession by my pew. Those moments pierce my heart and bring tears to my eyes, letting me know without a doubt that, tired as I may be, I have not fallen fast asleep—that Christ does live in the deepest part of my being. I thank God for those times because those small insights, those tiniest of moments are precious moments of respite.

In those moments, I am thankful for the Bible stories I heard as a child, those same stories I am privileged to share with your children on Sunday mornings. Several weeks ago, I taught a lesson to the 3 rd, 4 th, and 5 th grade children. We were looking up passages from the Bible that had to do with the lesson that week.

The Church School hour was coming to a close, and to end the class, I had the children look up the last verse in the Bible, Rev. 22:21, because it is a blessing…”The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen.”

What I thought was the end of the class turned out to be the beginning, the advent, if you will, of an on-going dialog with the children about the Bible and its relevance in their lives. One of the students, a very bright and eager young man, asked me when the last book of the Bible was written.

I told him that the Bible was written many hundreds of years ago, and that many people over time had authored the “books,” or writings, which later became the Bible. Then he asked a very insightful question for one so young. He inquired, “Miss Pam, if the Bible was written so long ago, why should it be important to me now?”

At that point, the parents were at the door, and we didn’t have much opportunity to talk further that day. However, that question has become one of the central themes from which I work with the children each Sunday morning in children’s chapel, because, I believe, it takes us to the heart of faith and insight. The Bible is the repository of the stories of our faith—of men and women who sought to live with God and “keep awake” in the face of their day-to-day struggles, their joys and their sorrows, their strengths and their weaknesses, their failures and their triumphs—just as we do today.

I am grateful for the opportunity to work with your children, to hear their insights and to be present for them as they grapple with the questions of their faith. They come with fresh faces and open hearts each Sunday morning, and I must stay awake to keep up with them.

In this Advent Season let us look to those tiny moments of insight that come, when we least expect them, to wake us from our slumber. Amen.