We are entering Advent, the time of expectation, of looking forward, to the birth of something new.

Jeremiah says "the days are coming says the Lord when I will fulfill the promise I made…I will cause a righteous branch to spring forth for David."

The context of Jeremiah’s writing was this: Jerusalem was under siege, the land of Israel would soon be made desolate, the leaders were in confusion, and he himself was in prison. Things in other words couldn’t get much worse. On top of this, Jeremiah was a first class ranter. From him comes the word "jeremiad," which means "angry harangue." Yet this man utters a surprising, hopeful message: "I will cause a righteous branch to spring forth from David."

Several hundred years later in the time of Jesus, the people of Israel had long since been transformed by exile, ruin, return. Their faith continued though their world wasn’t much better. Palestine was now a rebellious province of the Roman Empire. There was an undercurrent of apocalyptic thinking.

In our gospel reading Jesus talks about great coming turmoil—"there will be signs…and upon the earth distress of nations in perplexity…men fainting with fear and foreboding of what is coming…" Notice the signs, says Jesus. But also notice the Son of Man coming in a cloud with glory and great power. "Look up, raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near. When you see these things…you know the kingdom of heaven is near."

In the midst of a troubled world, here’s a teaching: when things are scary, look up. Raise your head. Look for him who comes for our liberation.

The Advent message in our Gospel passage is to wake up and be alert for something new, born of the Spirit, in and for us. Jesus says it’s like noticing during springtime that a tree is in leaf and summer is near. Positive expectation can not only occur in the midst of real difficulties, it can grow greater!

Jesus goes on to say "these things will be fulfilled in this generation."

Now, these words have caused a lot of trouble among Christians. Because he speaks as if the end times were near, and here it is 2000 years later. Early Christians certainly believed that they were living in the end times, and this belief flourishes among many today.

I personally don’t know if the end times are near. But for sure the passage as spiritual reality works: We do have things to be troubled about in this era of terrorism, heightened insecurity, polarization and lowered trust. We are often perplexed by the degree of suffering that we and others experience. We do yearn for deliverance. Like a friend who said recently, about traveling abroad, "I don’t know where to go anymore that I feel safe. I just want to be safe."

What distinguishes Christians from others is not our fears. We’re human. It’s our faith, our way of looking up and being expectant, even though the world can be a rocky place. Many centuries ago in this northern hemisphere we developed Christmas as one of the two holiest holidays, placing it in precisely the darkest, coldest time of the year, the time of the winter solstice.

What we count on is the words and spirit of Jesus, God with us. We trust that which will last. We are called by our faith, urged by the Spirit within us, and among us to be awake, expecting, sharpening our awareness of something good, even divinely great.

You know, there’s so much spirit already in the world that it’s easy to miss. Do we even know how many thousands of needy people received Thanksgiving dinners this past week across the country. And how many thousands of people prepared and served those meals? It’s not something that gets reported in the papers, but its there.

Jesus also says in this passage, "Take heed lest your heart be weighed down with dissipation or cares...watch at all times…" This is the second teaching: Stay awake and don’t get distracted.

Modern life poses real challenges in becoming lulled and distracted. A writer in the Christian Century wrote recently that we can drive home with the windows up listening to a favorite radio program or CD, go home and fix ourselves dinner, turn on the TV to one of our favorite programs, then settle down in bed with an author we like. We can wall ourselves off from the world and dull our sensitivities to others and to what is happening within us. We can limit our associations to those at work and our friends. We can cruise the Internet going to our favorite sites. This writer said that in such an environment it takes real courage to be mindful and act against the grain, or swim against the current. It takes effort and courage to interact with others, let ourselves be engaged. Being awake, mindful, watchful, in touch with what is happening with ourselves and others, isn’t easy. There’s a constant tug to settle back.

The world is both fearful and distracting, yet expectation and hope come from a deep place of desire within us. I believe they emerge from the gift of God’s presence within us and others, the depth of God that calls to us in a mysterious mother tongue that we know way deep down. That voice says in the midst of trouble and distraction, "wake up, look up, prepare yourself. Something new is coming, wanting to be born, to us, in the world and in you." Pay attention. Pay attention to any great thing, coming in obvious power and light. But also pay attention to tiny things, whether they are a leaf growing or something new as it grows within you, or in the world.

The poet Kabir put it this way:

You know that the seed is inside the horse-chestnut tree;

And inside the seed there are the blossoms of the tree, and the chestnuts, and the shade.

So inside the human body there is the seed, and

Inside the seed there is the human body again…

Thinkers listen; tell me what you know of that is not inside the soul?

He goes on several more lines to conclude:

If you want the truth, I’ll tell you the truth:

Listen to the secret sound, the real sound, which is inside you…

We never know when the Spirit will stir within us. The New Yorker writer Adam Gopnick, a very this-world secular kind of person, wrote this after his daughter's birth in a Paris hospital:

"Just then looking at the sleeping mom and the tiny newborn in her arms, I had a genuine moment of what I can only call revelation, a religious vision. A birth is not a rebirth. It's a weighty event. In a telescopic universe we choose to see microscopically, and the blessing is that what we see is not an illusion but what is really there: a singularity in the cosmos, another baby born in a Paris suburb. The world is a meaningless place…yet the whole purpose of the universe since it began was, in a way, to produce this baby, who is the tiny end point of a funnel that goes back to the beginning of time--a singularity that history was pointing toward from the start. That history didn't know it was pointing toward Olivia…doesn't change the fact that it was. We didn't know we were pointing to her, either, until she got here."

If Adam Gopnick, a self-described non-religious person, can have such a religious vision, understanding that "the whole purpose of the universe since it began was…to have this baby, who is the tiny end point of a funnel going back to the beginning of time," what are we to say, in the midst of own fears and distractions? What we expect can also be expressed as a baby—new life—yet it is profoundly within and among us, this newness, this new life…

The poet Mary Oliver understood about incarnation. She says:

The spirit likes to dress up like this:

Ten fingers,

Ten toes,

Shoulders and all the rest….

It could float, of course,

But would rather plumb rough matter.

Airy and shapeless thing,

It needs

the metaphor of the body….

To be understood

To be more than pure light

That burns

Where no one is—

So it enters us

In the morning….

And at night

Lights up the deep and wondrous

Drownings of the body

Like a star.

Here’s a little suggestion for practicing expectancy during Advent. You pause and then say, silently, "Lord, Come." Try saying this at least once a day, ideally several times. Stop for a moment and say, "Lord, come." You can pick your own times and places. But to get us started, let’s join together in repeating, three times, the words, "Lord Come." Please join me. Lord, come. Lord, come. Lord, come.

Let us continue in expectation during this time of Advent.