An Advent choice

Sermon for Advent I, 2025, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY

Text: Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44

On September 23rd, or the 24th of this year, the Rapture was predicted to happen, according to a South African 

preacher. We’re all still here, so it didn’t happen. But this event has ties to this morning’s gospel reading because of

the imagery of two people working side-by-side and one of them being taken. This raises a question: why are we

reading an apocalyptic passage on the first Sunday in Advent, the first day of a new Church year? It really doesn’t

fit the season of anticipation and joy at the birth of Jesus, any more than Halloween skeletons fit with decorating for 

Christmas. That's not to say that the reading is relevant. It is relevant because it call on us to prepare. But what are 

we preparing for, and how?

 

The Rapture was the creation of the fervent mind of John Nelson Darby in the 1830s as part of his development of 

Dispensationalism. Darby misinterpreted 1 Thessalonians 4 where it recounts how the faithful would be lifted in 

the air to meet Jesus as he comes again to earth. Then they would be lifted up to Heaven. Together with this 

morning’s passage, we have the foundation for Darby’s familiar image of the Second Coming and the Left Behind 

book series. This version of the rapture is appealing to people looking for signs among the constant news of wars 

and conflicts, and of our social and political upheaval. But we are still here, and we have this passage to deal with 

in the context of Advent. The reading refers to Jesus’ return to earth after having been crucified and resurrected, 

not his first coming at his birth, and a possible message is be prepared, or be lost. This naturally leads to a sober 

self-reflection that we perform usually in Lent, and, historically, Advent used to be more like Lent as a time of 

preparation for Baptism and Jesus coming into our lives. This matched the increasingly cold days and dark nights 

of the northern hemisphere when the birth of our savior, who brought light into the world, coincided with the days 

becoming longer after the winter solstice.

 

This increasing light is evident in the reading from Isaiah we heard before the Gospel, and it is a very different 

scenario where the Lord’s house is raised up and people will flock to it; people would learn God’s ways and paths, 

while God would be the judge of nations; nations would find peace between themselves and all people would walk 

in the light of God. There is a description of a wise and just ruler and what that ruler will bring to all the world, 

almost the opposite of the righteous being lifted up to heaven leaving everyone else behind. Everyone is able to 

access the grace of God that leads to God’s peace and wisdom according to Isaiah. The gospel reading can satisfy 

an anger felt by the righteous who have kept all of the rules and requirements, expectations and obligations against 

those who also claim righteousness. Those apostates, from the view of the righteous, may be living an aimless life, 

or they may be asking the uncomfortable question of why would they be left behind. Isaiah dissolves the righteous 

anger with a different vision of God’s kingdom on earth founded on an all inclusive love and impartiality. God’s 

house on the mountain is open to everyone, without regard for their piety or strength of faith because it is there to 

build piety and faith. It is a difference between being righteous and becoming righteous.

 

How these two passages speak to us tells us a lot about our feelings of the future and provides an opportunity to 

explore why we feel that way through self-examination during Advent. Have we at all measured up, meeting God’s 

expectations? Can we trust that God will still love and have mercy on us when we have fallen short? To ask these 

and other questions about ourselves and of God is not to expose our errors or admit to a faltering faith, but to 

confront what is in our background that colors our view of ourselves and of the world. We are not called to 

repentance during Advent, but more to what we need to do to prepare ourselves for Jesus’ birth into our lives. What 

gets in the way of preparing for Jesus’ birth? Where Lent is a contrast of our failings and inadequacy with 

resurrection into a new life, Advent is a contrast of Jesus coming into our lives despite our failings and inadequacy. 

That leads to yet another question, which is, do we look at Jesus’ coming in apocalyptic terms that will destroy us 

in our weakness, or do we find the inspiration to address our weakness? Which of this morning’s readings resonates 

with you is an indication of how you would answer the questions I have asked, and I encourage you to consider how 

you would answer them.

 

The apocalyptic language found in scripture does not appeal to me as much as the challenge to live Jesus’ life does. 

Following Jesus’ footsteps is not easy at all because it means overcoming the worst of ourselves to find the best, 

and become who God envisioned us to be. It means developing the discipline to put aside what is not of God, and 

take up what Jesus calls us to: a humble attitude where the welfare of others is more important than our desire to be 

the most important. That is a daunting thing to attempt, and something that takes us to uncomfortable places as we 

confront our actions and reactions that would leave us behind in Matthew’s vision of Jesus returning. As I prepare 

for the celebration of joy in Jesus’ birth in the world, I find Matthew’s vision to be out of place when I think of an 

infant in humble surroundings. It seems more natural during Advent to look to the love of God, embodied in the love 

for and love from an infant who will bring light to the world and teach us from the mountain top how to find peace. 

There is a joy in Jesus coming to us on Earth to show us a way of life that is not bound up in fear, and it is that joy I 

look to as we prepare for the light to come into our world of cold and darkness.