Second Sunday of Advent Sermon 2024, by Min-Goo Kang: The Signs of Advent: Seeing God in the Face of the Other

The Signs of Advent:

Second Sunday of Advent Sermon 2024

 by Min-Goo Kang

Did you ever feel like it was all up to you and only you? That if you messed up, it would ruin everything for everyone? I played the bass drum, the instrument that not many people paid particular attention to except when there were mistakes. I was part of the children’s choir and orchestra and our annual concert on X-mas Eve was the most important thing. I remember feeling pressure as if the whole orchestra depended on my sense of rhythm. A tiny off beat could turn the concert into a disaster in no time. I remember the sharp eyes of my music director every time I made a mistake – a little too slow or little too fast. Only after the concert was done I could relax, and my real Christmas began. I enjoyed everything that followed – the gift exchange, carolling in front of designated homes, shops, and on the streets, and sharing hot chocolate and other refreshments given by the hosts who welcomed us. Christmas is still the most beloved season for many because it involves all our senses – taste, smell, vision, hearing, touch and feeling. What’s not to like about it?

But how many of us are excited about Advent? I have been pondering what the season of Advent is all about. I found myself yearning to find it’s true meaning beyond all the events and activities that can easily take up our calendars. Is this merely a time of preparation or waiting? Is it the time the choir director makes us sing dirges instead of upbeat carols? Or is there something we have been missing? Advent means arrival. Traditionally the church has celebrated three kinds of arrivals: the first arrival of Christ that happened 2,000 years ago, the second arrival of Christ that will bring wholeness and complete peace to the whole creation, and the third arrival of Christ that is happening here and now through the Holy Spirit. The past, present, and future co-exist in this season of Advent.

Despite the church’s effort to recognize the immanent power of the Spirit, Advent indicates we are not quite there yet. The pain of our predicament, made by the absence of God, is what makes Advent possible. So, if you find this season exceptionally difficult, rejoice! That sense of incompleteness, or the tension between what’s been known and what’s yet to be known lies at the heart of Advent. This is not a comfortable place to be. It’s like navigating our way in complete darkness, not knowing what’s ahead of us. It’s a scary place to be. I wonder if we keep ourselves occupied with the endless to-do list because we are scared to be in the place of unknown or unknowable.

Advent makes sense if only we begin to embrace our vulnerability and longings. Advent is where our deepest longing meets God’s deepest love. Advent is all about paradox. As the weather gets colder, our hearts get warmer. As the days grow shorter, our search for light gets stronger. As the pain in the world is felt deeper, our longing for renewal – for ourselves and the world – intensifies. This is the season we have permission to feel all that we feel – anger, frustration, confusion, uncertainty, worry, fear, and sadness all the while feeling hopeful, anticipating, and excited. Yes, those seemingly opposite feelings can coexist. This is the season we have permission to show up with all that we are – broken, vulnerable, tired, and exhausted, and at the same time, beloved, blessed, and cared for. This is the season we learn to live with the mystery: how the transforming power of the Spirit comes in the most vulnerable human form, a baby born amid chaos and brutal violence.

This is well articulated in the sermon by Rev. Munther Isaac, the pastor at Evangelical Luteran Christmas Church Bethlehem, on Dec. 23, 2023.

“If Jesus were to be born today, he would be born under the rubble in Gaza. When we glorify pride and richness, Jesus is under the rubble. When we rely on power, might, and weapons, Jesus is under the rubble. When we justify, rationalize, and theologize the bombing of children, Jesus is under the rubble.”

Such a powerful truth-telling can shake all of us to the core. Listening to his sermon I came to understand how the good news of God must be incarnational. It’s not good news at all if it’s not incarnational. That is, God’s healing energy flows into where it hurts the most, whether the pain is in our bodies, our families, our communities, or the word. This place of pain and suffering is where our Advent begins – a place where our deepest longing meets God’s deepest love.

The passage we heard today teaches us that the signs of Advent are everywhere, yet we pretend not to see them. Our denial costs us disembodiment, and disconnection from our siblings created in the same image of God. No wonder many of us don’t get Advent, and it remains just a time of preparing for the next big event. How can we find its true meaning when we dissociate ourselves from where Advent is truly happening in the world right now? That’s why we are invited to stand up and raise our heads to notice the signs of Advent all around us. This is an invitation to move from denial to affirmation, from disembodiment to embodiment, from separation to solidarity. This is how we can experience Advent as fully as possible. What’s not to miss?

 

 

The Face of the Other

What surprising moments or places have felt like a sign of Advent? Advent comes to us in ordinary things, especially through the face of the other.

The Jewish philosopher, Emmanuel Lévinas (1906-1995) said the only thing that really converts people, the ultimate moral imperative, is “the face of the other.”  When we receive and empathize with the face of the other, especially the suffering face, it can lead to transformation of our whole being.

Remember now the last time you truly saw the face of the other as a sign of God’s presence – was it the face of a stranger, neighbour, family member, or even the natural world: a tree, a creature, or the land itself?

During the walking meditation at Multifaith a few weeks ago, one student from Iran shared his experience of encountering a tree. He remembered the words of a wise teacher who said, “The distance between a tree and you is the image you have.” It’s an invitation to be aware of how our perceptions toward others create all kinds of problems and conflicts. So, he spent some time with this particular tree in front of him with no images attached, and had a profound experience of unity between the tree and himself.

Following his advice, I went to the Finnerty Gardens to interact with the trees. I was there to “receive” the trees. Some trees looked like aliens. Then I was reminded, ‘Who am I to judge?’ I realized that it was no longer me looking at the trees, but the trees also looking at me. They were real and much alive, just like me.

Iris Murdoch, an Irish and British novelist and philosopher said, “Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.”

My encounter with the trees was powerful enough to save me from self-centredness, and to help me to understand something other than me, something outside myself, was real.

“Look at the fig tree and all the trees,” said Jesus. It’s an invitation to love, the difficult realization that something other than ourselves is real and much alive just like us. The moment of such realization is not only joyful and blissful but also scary and even frightening, because we are no longer in control. We discover the power greater than any of us by being powerless. Suddenly we find ourselves on the receiving end of the relationship. That is, we never know what we will become because of this encounter, this new relationship. The face of the other can transform us. Face to face, we know we are interdependent.

We have ample opportunities to experience this holy encounter, the Advent moment, every Sunday. I invite you to spend some time intentionally meeting a person you don’t really know. Let the face of the other reveal something about God.

Last Sunday, I had the privilege to hold the newest member of our BVU family, River, Laura and Pete’s baby. I can still feel the energy and the feeling I can’t even describe. I felt seen and understood entirely. There was no barrier, as there was no image attached, and I knew I was standing on holy ground. Jesus could have said, “Look at the baby and all the babies.”

Here's an Advent gift for you, a story from the book, Finding My Way Home by Henri Nouwen:

A Rabbi once asked the students, “How can we determine the hour of dawn, when the night ends and the day begins?”

One student suggested, “Is it when you can distinguish between a dog and a sheep from a distance?”

“No,” the Rabbi answered.

“Is it when you can distinguish between a fig tree and a grapevine?” asked a second student.

“No,” the Rabbi responded again.

“Please tell us the answer, then,” urged the students.

“It is, then,” said the wise teacher, “when you can look into the face of another human being, and you have enough light in you to recognize them as your sisters and brothers. Until then it is night, and the darkness is still within us.”