Nancy E. Petty

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

December 3, 2006 – First Sunday of Advent

Text: Luke 21:25-36

The Fear Factor

There is no doubt that we live in a fearful time. Literalists would interpret this passage from Luke that Charlotte has read as a commentary on Jesus’ particular generation. And, indeed, by the time of Luke’s writing, the world for Jews in Jesus’ Palestine was unraveling, collapsing and falling apart. In 70 the Romans leveled the great temple and intensified persecutions of the Jews, driving them from the holy city of Jerusalem. If they had ever wondered what could be worse than Roman occupation, high taxation, a corrupt Roman dominated high priesthood, a growing disparity between rich land owners and tenant/peasant farmers, they now find out. Their lives are filled with distress, roaring, fears and foreboding; the powers of heaven and earth shake. Indeed, this period of time for the Jews was a fearful time. Today, we, who take a more metaphorical, less literal view of a passage such as this one, might tend to dismiss the drama and prophecy as something that is over and done with, about which we have no concern, and which we can easily—in our complacent, overly intellectual manner—feel that such passages are now merely religious fodder for the fire-breathing evangelistic crowd. But in fact, no passage is more grounded in our own modern reality than this one. This passage proclaiming signs and persecutions of the end of a time is not only for a past generation but is for our generation and all generations.

The truth is, these are fearful times but maybe not for the reasons we think they are.

We have long assumed that the United States is somewhat safe from the fears and foreboding that other countries have long endured. However, we are not as free of crises as we imagine. In our history we have seen several wars fought on our own turf: the American Revolution, the Civil War, the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and closeness of the Cuban crisis of Kennedy’s Presidency. In our country we have also seen emotional, spiritual and moral crises that have ripped the fabric of our national soul and we have dealt with them in ways that are peculiarly modern: we have retreated with our fears through addictions and compulsions, through greed and arrogance, and through unexamined values and principles.

Jesus’ words in Luke have, in actuality, never been more apt for our times—a time of corrupt power, growing disparity between rich and poor and privileged domination. And yet, in the shadows of this truth are also the promises Jesus delivers in the same passage that equally apply to this generation, to all generations, whether two thousand years ago or two thousand years to come. What are the fears of us moderns? Well, many of them are essentially ephemeral in nature—what we fear most often never transpires (like the airplane we’re in crashing); and what we never imagined would happen, does (like learning about joy and peace and hope from an oppressed people).

We have a host of politicians, many of them literalists both biblically and ideologically, who fan our fears after events like the Oklahoma bombing, the killing of our children by our children in public schools, and most obviously the attack on the World Trade Towers. And while currently it is easy to focus our fears on war, for sure, our fears are not limited to children killing children or nation warring against nation. In truth, we are still fearful of such things as: contamination from AIDS, or some flu pandemic, or some dread virus as yet undetected by scientists.

There is no question that our most obvious and looming fears derive from our confused approach to the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and the Middle East. Those wars have created a complexity of fears that the post-Vietnam generation has never seen. The wars themselves serve as the backdrop for a kind of free-floating anxiety, often triggered by the preachers and politicians who stir our deepest and most hidden vulnerabilities. What is happening is what has happened in all generations and will happen in generations yet to come. The fear factor is part and parcel of being alive, and being very human. If we really took the time to understand our fears, we might find that our real fear is not another World Trade Center attack but, rather, that we will have to change our understanding of who we are in the world and how we live in the world. It’s easy to put our fear on the obvious and the external—for example, the fear of flying engendered in me as I traveled to Cuba not so much that I feared dying in a plane crash but that when I arrived in Cuba I would not be able to be seen as myself, that I would lose my place in a system of a loving and caring family, that somehow my usefulness would be less, even my identity forgotten. Change is possibly the most fearful element in all human lives. My guess is that the fear that grips us in our current reality is that we will have to change who we are as a nation in relation to the rest of the world—that we will have to adjust to more equitable distribution of the world’s resources—that we no longer have all the power but that power becomes shared—and, on a personal level, we will have to change our notions of what it means to be a family, the laws that govern those definitions of family—and ultimately we will have to learn that our truth is not the ultimate truth. Galileo had to fight the church when he asserted, and quite correctly, that the sun did not revolve around the earth; similarly, we will have to learn that the world does not revolve around us.

Jesus reminds us that fear is not the final word and that we can turn our dread of the unknown into a redemptive anticipation of the true and authentic life that our faith calls us to. Jesus teaches us that those who confront their fears and are ready and willing to change will—when the powers of earth and heaven shake—be able to stand up and raise their heads because their true redemption will be near—redemption that is not all about it all working out; or everything happening for the best; or that God has some reason we cannot fathom; or there is a divine purpose to it all…a redemption that is not about just surviving or getting through or over or around our fears. No, the real redemption that is drawing near is about being delivered from the assumption that it all has to work the way we think it ought to. It is being freed from the illusion that life is about being safe and invulnerable and in control. It is liberation from the oughts and shoulds and wannabes and, for a change accepting ourselves for who and what we are.

In this season of advent, when we anticipate what is coming, not what we have left behind, the angels’ words—“Fear not!”—is an invitation to be who God needs us to be in this world. Mary heard the words—“Do not be afraid”—and she faced her fear, offering the world possibly one of the greatest gifts ever given.

Yes, these are fearful times. But this season of advent—a season of change and anticipation—brings us hope. In Mary’s most fearful and foreboding time she heard the redemptive voice of God—“Fear not!” If we listen carefully in these days of change and anticipation we may also hear God’s redemptive word to us. It is still the same word Mary heard, “Fear not!” But first we must come to understand what Mary learned: such redemption is not about it all working out, or everything happening for the best, or that God has some reason we cannot fathom or there is a divine purpose to it all. It is not about just surviving or getting through or over or around it. God’s redemption is what happens while the seas are warring and the heavens shaking. It is being delivered from the assumption that it all has to work the way we think it ought to. It is being freed from the illusion that life is about being safe and invulnerable and in control. It is liberation from the oughts and shoulds and wannabes and, for a change accepting ourselves for who and what we are. If we dare, this Advent Season, to listen for the angels’ proclamation “fear not” we might find ourselves once again birthing hope, peace, joy and love into our world.