Amnesia, inertia, mañana

Homilist on Advent 1 (December 1, 2024), The Reverend William H Coyne

Lord at the very beginning of Advent, save us from Amnesia, Inertia, and Mañana. Amen.

Edward Farrell wrote a book, Prayer is a hunger, that identifies those three things which stand as blockages to a healthy life of prayer, indeed to a healthy everyday life—amnesia, inertia, and mañana.

We are all subject to amnesia—forgetfulness of God's faithfulness in the past. We are all lazy; we have inertia—to act on the Divine Promises of God, and we all fall into the trap of mañana, postponing until tomorrow what Jesus is asking of us today.

From the first reading on this first Sunday of Advent, from the prophetic words of Jeremiah, “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise, the promise I made to the house of Israel, to the house of Judah,” and I would say to the house of prayer for all people. The day is coming, God says. I will fulfill my promises.

Now what's the greatest challenge we face in the world today? I would suggest it's not war or economic inequality or community unrest or prejudice or political division. It's fear. Falling into amnesia, inertia, and mañana leads to fear. Why? Because fear is at the root of all these other things. From Pharaoh in the first chapter of Exodus down to the despair of today, fear is a means by which we turn those who are in some fashion different from us as a people into an enemy, an enemy whom we should fear.

Fear causes us to hoard, assuming we will never have enough and seeing those around us as competitors for scarce resources. Fear drives wedges of distrust into our communities that fracture solidarity and compassion. Fear causes us to define ourselves and those around us by, not what we share, but what makes us different. Fear creates an either-or, us or them mentality, that makes it nearly impossible to find common ground, let alone see the other person with sympathetic eyes. Fear, in short, drives us inward, hardens our hearts. darkens our vision, and stunts our imagination.

So hear it once more. The greatest challenge we face today is fear. And I believe falling into amnesia, inertia, and mañana leads to fear. It's always been true. Why else is the most common command and promise in scripture, “Do not fear.” More than 120 times across the entire biblical narrative some angel or priest or prophet or an absolutely ordinary person says, usually on behalf of God, “Do not fear.”

Which is why, perhaps in Advent 2024, we are drawn once again to the words of promise and courage embedded in Jeremiah from the Hebrew scriptures this morning. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel, to the house of Judah,” and to this the House of Prayer for all people. And, in the words of Luke's gospel this morning, when all this starts to happen, “get up on your feet, stand tall with your heads high. Help is on the way.”

It’s a promise that's easy to miss because of all the foreboding signs in the earth and the heavens, the distress and tumult among people, the powers of the day being shaken, and the apocalyptic imagery reverbs. Fearful indeed! It will seem like all hell has broken loose—sun, moon, stars, Earth, sea in an uproar and everyone all over the world in a panic, the wind knocked out of them by the threat of Doom. The powers that be are quaking, yet Jesus tells his disciples to, “Stand up and raise your heads. Stand tall with your heads high. Help is on the way.” Why not? Because this is code language that the end of the world is nigh. It is because “even though Heaven and Earth will pass away, my words shall not pass away. Sky and Earth will wear out; my words won't wear out.” So what are those words—those lifegiving words—that Jesus might be referring to? Well, given the immediate proximity of this morning's gospel scene, it's in Luke, chapter 21. It's not the beginning of Luke's gospel. Here's how the story of Jesus starts; it has a different beginning—we will get to that—but today, it's chapter 21, this apocalyptic imagery is where we can find these words of assurance, these words of promise. We can start right after chapter 21, the start of our Lord's passion, death, and resurrection. It seems more than reasonable to look from there on to find what those promises might be. So take your pick, going forward from Luke's gospel:

• "This is my body given for you, this is my blood shed for you," the promise of Jesus, of his continued and real presence for his disciples,

• “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” the promise of Jesus of forgiveness no matter what,

• “Today you'll be with me in Paradise,” the promise of Jesus of eventual and ultimate rest and comfort,

• “Peace be with you,” the promise of Jesus that his resurrection spells the end to death and the cycle of violence and revenge,

• “You are witnesses of all these things,” the promise of Jesus of purposeful and fruitful work for his disciples to spread this message of peace and good will articulated at the very beginning of the Gospel reiterated all the way through Luke's gospel and consummated in our Lord's Resurrection.

Across the board Jesus promises—not to abandon his disciples amid the tumult and trauma of this world but to be with them to strengthen them to encourage them to equip them not merely to endure the challenges of this day but to flourish to be God's people to be the continuation of God's incarnation in Jesus. You are the body of Christ. Do not lose heart. Do not be afraid. Do not forget. Do not sit back. Do not forget who you are and what you are called to do. The promises of Jesus do not eliminate fear or hardship from the lives of those disciples then or those disciples here now, but rather the promises of Jesus create courage—the ability to be faithful to retain vision and compassion and empathy even while we are afraid which means that even amid the tumult and trauma of our age. We are not helpless while we still await our Lord's complete redemption. We have work to do. In the meantime, we act in the confidence that God's promises are trustworthy. The promises that Jesus makes can be relied on. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promises I made to the House of Israel, to the house of Judah, to this the House of Prayer for all God's people.”

At times our various actions of compassion and encouragement and solidarity and resistance and forgiveness and acceptance may seem like small gestures but, in light of our Lord's promises, we realize there are no small gestures. There's only actions motivated by the love and courage of Christ. My friends, it is not our vocation to save the world but rather (and because Jesus has promised to save the world) it is our mission and ministry to care for those in this little corner of the world that we inhabit at 67 Anson Street . . . and out . . . and out . . . and out . . . from there . . . out . . . and out . . . and out from here. It's our mission and ministry to offer an alternative to the fear that so corrodes our world. And in offering courage and compassion as an alternative, we are obedient to Christ's command in Luke's good news gospel for us this morning. 

“Now when these things begin to take place, stand up, raise your heads because your Redemption is drawing near." Amen, amen.

© 2024 William H Coyne