Hope on a Fig Tree

David H Hoth

Advent 1, year B

November 29, 2020

Grace, Mercy, and Peace from the One Who Was, The One Who Is, and The One Who Is To Come; Amen.

            So, Happy New Year! This is the first Sunday of Advent, so the first Sunday of the new year. Year B, the year of the Gospel of Mark; the paraments turn blue. It’s a new year, things should be changing, right? Then why are we still in this cycle of waiting. Waiting for The Son of Man to come, and do stuff. Like bring in the New Jerusalem, the New world, the new…stuff.

            Although I have to say I have some new insight into Advent as a season, and it makes some of the rest of it make sense. You see, I always thought that Advent was the warm-up, the prequel to Christmas. It doesn’t get the respect it deserves certainly. We go from the groaning tables of Thanksgiving to the gift-laden trees of Christmas, we forget about the time in between, Advent. Sort of the middle child, the one no remembers. And in case you’re wondering, I’m the youngest. No one forgets me. My brother Al, though… And that’s what it’s like with Advent, it’s just there. It’s fly-over country, like Iowa.

            So, I looked up Advent and found a site called Christianity.com. I learned a few things, which helped today’s reading make sense. If you noticed the Gospel starts out with Jesus speaking. But isn’t Advent about the Baby Jesus, and waiting for him? Not yet, that comes soon, but not yet. Advent is a time of waiting, waiting for someone to come, yes. The name is from the Latin, Adventus, which means “to come”. In week one and two we wait for the Second Coming of Christ; week three and four we wait for the first coming of Christ. Maybe a bit backwards, but that’s how it goes. We start with adult Jesus, and end up in week four with baby Jesus, right before Christmas. But we have to wait before we get there. And that’s hard.

            And that’s also ironic. Because of all the gospels one of the things that sets Mark apart is how quickly things happen. The word “immediately” occurs 42 times, in the shortest of all the gospels. Jesus “Immediately” does this, and then “immediately” does something else. But not here. Here we have to wait. And we don’t want to. We’re tired of it. We’ve spent the last month, beginning three weeks ago in Matthew, waiting and watching. The ten bridesmaids, waiting for the groom. The servants given money by their master, not knowing when he was going to return. Last week was sheep and goats, again at the second coming of the Son of God, the Groom, the Master, who is Jesus if you hadn’t guessed. Waiting, told to be on guard, awake. Don’t know when it’s gonna finally happen, but be ready.

            And I’m tired of it, the waiting. For me, it’s the end of the term. Right now it’s about writing the papers, and checking off projects. Any of the joy of learning new things has likely faded a bit, and I just want to get this done. This coming Friday I have a Zoom meeting with my Synod, Rocky Mountain based in Denver. It’s not so much that I’m worried about the meeting, I just want it done. Can’t we just get past all the waiting, and get on with things?

            And let’s not forget what time of year it is. We’re less than three weeks away from Winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Days are shorter, nights are longer and colder. People want to get in and stay in because of the light or absence of light. And then there’s that thing I haven’t mentioned yet, but which is as plain as the mask on my face. It’s been how many months, eight, since we’ve been able to sing hymns in church, and pass the peace, and do all the stuff we want to? The news of vaccines is awesome, but they’re not here yet. How much longer do we have to wait? Like a six-year-old in the back seat, aren’t we there yet?

            And Uncle Dave has to be honest and say: NO. We’re not, not yet. All of these gospel texts have been building anticipation for the coming, the Advent, of Christ. Either the second coming, or the first. For Advent is about the coming of Christ, both as God and as baby. And that waiting is hard, especially in a time of anxiety over disease, and a time of shorter and colder days, and just a hard time in general. And unlike most of Mark, nothing here is happening “Immediately”. Jesus isn’t doing anything quickly in today’s gospel. He’s taking his own time. Like he’s God or something. Hmm.

            So for all the complaining I have about this text, and how I wish we’d get some revelation of good news, news that we can see and touch and smell, we don’t get that today, not yet. But we do get hope, in the form of fig leaves. Right in the middle of this gospel, where nothing happens quickly, and we’re told to wait longer even if we’re already been waiting forever it seems, we get a sign of hope. In a fig leaf. Let’s go back a bit, starting with verse 28:

            “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” Mark 13: 28-31.

 Mark was written around 70. So, Mark is writing this gospel not quite 40 years after Jesus’ death. This passage in Mark, in the season of Advent, occurs as Jesus and the disciples are traveling to Jerusalem. Jesus knows he’s going there to die. Jesus is saying that the Son of Man will come back in his glory soon.  That was the expectation, that the coming, the Advent of Jesus would happen quickly. Waiting nearly 2000 years was not on anyone’s mind.

            And we still wait, for the physical return, the second Advent of Jesus. But then there’s that fig leaf. And that’s hope. That odd fig leaf is a sign of new life; when the branch softens as it fills with rising sap in the spring; when the new leaves start to bud and unfurl. Then the Advent, the coming, will occur. Not the advent of Baby Jesus, but the advent of Jesus Son of God, Savior of Humanity. At the time of new growth, that Advent will occur.

            But for now, in the dark, we wait. More. And it sucks, if I may be so bold. And we wait with our masks on, waiting for a vaccine. Waiting to be able to sing in harmony again. No Easter hymns or Christmas carols this year, not like most years. But they will return. And so will the handshakes, and the hugs from those so inclined. But until then we wait. For the Advent of new days, of new health, of a new hour. It seems like we’ve been waiting a lot, and that’s not wrong. But Jesus won’t fail us or forsake us. We need to wait longer. I’m as bad at that as anyone. Days are about to slowly get longer. Light will return, bit by bit; minute by minute. If we can wait for that to happen.

As we await the Advent of Jesus’s coming, either as the son of Mary and Joseph or as the Son of Humanity, we need to wait with confidence and hope. And we can do this, with faith in God’s care and love. So, as much as we don’t want to, we can wait a bit longer. Wait for a sign of new growth, of hope. Wait for a leaf on a fig tree. Amen.