In our gospel portion today, we hear Jesus telling us that there will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. He tells us that when our fear is greatest because of the happenings in the world around us, we should stand up and raise our heads—perhaps square our shoulders—because our redemption is near. He tells us that we are able to read the signs of the world around us—that just as we know by the greening of the trees that summer is on the way, we can tell by the events going on around us that the reign of God is near.
As I read this passage, I found myself wondering about his remarks. This is the same Jesus who points out to the disciples time after time that they really don’t know what’s going on around them. Over and over, he tells them that they don’t get it. Over and over, he tells them that they still don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them. Over and over, he tells them that they can’t see the signs that are in front of their faces, and yet now, he tells them that they can tell by the events going on around them that the reign of God is near.
This is one of those times when I think he’s talking directly to me. I sometimes have a lot of trouble taking heart from the signs around us in our world. There are times when I’m right up there with the clueless disciples—hoping for a sign that’s clear enough for me to understand. A big sign—one with letters scrolling across it—would be just fine with me. During those times, when I’m fearful, when I don’t know what to do next, I sometimes remember to look at the icons that surround me. The areas around my desks—the one at home and the one in my office here at church—are filled with icons. I don’t mean only the beautiful Greek and Russian icons that immediately come to most of our minds—although there are several of those in the collections. An icon is representative of something, and religious icons have been said to give us a window into heaven—a way to look into the reign of God. Most people who see my desk aren’t immediately brought to mind of anything but clutter, but scattered around in that clutter are bits and pieces that give me glimpses into the reign of God.
There are three icons in the eastern tradition that remind me of all the saints who have come before us. There is a one-inch square chunk of the Berlin Wall that reminds me that every situation holds hope for transformation. There are quite a few crosses hanging here and there, reminding me of the resurrection and of Christ’s promise to be with us. And there are all kinds of pieces of paper: some with words of encouragement or counsel written on them—some showing the beauty of creation—and some showing the faces of the people in whom I can see the face of Christ. All of these things are icons for me, and when the going gets rough, I look at those and am reminded that in the difficult times—when the meaning of the signs around us eludes us—we can be assured of one thing. When our fear is the greatest, when our distress is at it most severe, the reign of God is near. It doesn’t matter how we interpret the signs. It doesn’t matter how we understand the implications of the wars going on all over the world or any of the phenomena that folks point to with claims of prophecy. It doesn’t matter because one thing is true: The reign of God is always near. It is we who are at a distance.
My icons remind me that God is still there— continuing to love us—to guide us—to surprise us.
Even as we humans work to build walls to separate ourselves from God and each other, God is working to break down the walls that divide us. No matter what we do, God is breaking into our lives in new ways, bringing hope. My icons are sign of hope for me. We have a larger sign that comes to us each week when we gather as a community of faith and come to this table. As we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we are reminded that he told us to do this in remembrance of him, so that we may always remember his promise to be with us always. And today—today!—we are participants in another of the great signs.
Today we baptize Julian George Robert Haddaway. Today we welcome into God’s family this child who is such a blessing to his family and to all of us. Today—on the first Sunday in Advent, the beginning of our church year—as we begin our journey to experience the incarnation of holiness in the form of a helpless infant— we are reminded that each of our children are holy.
As we make promises for Julian, we are reminded that we are entrusted with the spiritual care
of all children—not only this precious child whom we know and love. May this great sign reminds us that the reign of God is as close as the water—as near as the cry of a child—as present as the joy that fills our hearts when we see the smile of a child.
May this great sign keep us watchful on our journey to Christmas—alert for the signs of God’s presence with us—ready to step into the reign of God—prepared to see the reign of God with the eyes of a child.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!