Something is Terribly Wrong with Normal: An Advent Sermon

The other day a friend asked, “What is wrong with the people in Alabama?” (This after hearing the majority of white women voted for Moore, many of whom believed the allegations.) My immediate response was, “The people in Alabama are normal. The real question is how do any of us rise above it?”

And honestly it irks me that a majority of white women in the USA voted a self-confessed sexual predator into the White House and are fine with that, while they are horrified at the idea of trans women using their bathrooms. But the truth, whether I like it or not, is that sexual predators are the norm, while trans people are abnormal.

The reason the #metoo hashtag was so upsetting to so many people was that it called out normal behavior as bad. “How can what my cousin have experienced be sexual harassment or assault when my father and brother behave like that?” Normal people would rather keep the term sexual assault limited to particularly heinous cases and especially to those cases where the perpetrator is a complete stranger that can be villainized as not normal.

And the reason I bring all this up is that Christians are not supposed to be normal. Normal people call what other normal people do Christian, while anyone who has truly heard the words of Christ would do nothing of the sort. We are called to die to living a normal life. We are called to rise above it.

John was hardly normal. And when asked, John didn’t claim to be the Messiah or Elijah or even a prophet, John only claimed to be able to recognize Christ. Neither was Christ normal, in fact Mark tells us he was so abnormal that his family wanted to hide him away.

Perhaps in that moment Mary, due to pressure from the people in her family who aspired to normalcy, forgot what she said while she was pregnant with Jesus. Back then she was sure of God’s intention. That God was going to manifest within the lowliest of People, and that magnificence and glory would no longer belong to the normal people.

Even John, when he was in jail, wondered if he recognized Jesus correctly. He sent his followers to ask Jesus “what’s up?” Jesus answers, “The good news is preached to the poor.” I’d like to note that poor is not considered normal.

I recently saw a film that took place in an inner city black neighborhood, and when the main character was called poor, he immediately responded with, “I give clothes to the Salvation Army, people who are poor don’t do that.” This line exposed many things in the film, including a desire to be thought of as normal, even when one isn’t.

And that, my friends, is why we need to die to all this. We need to die to the idea of ever being thought of as normal again. To actually live as God intends for us to live, will be seen as craziness, will be reviled, will embarrass our families, and much of that will simply be because we don’t keep quiet about how horrible it is to be normal.

So many people I know who embody the life God wants for us, whether Christian or not, will be dealing with racist, sexist, misogynistic, “socially conservative” family members over the holidays. The older ones will likely keep the peace, because by now they know their speaking truth will result in useless arguments and bitter feelings.

Which is why I have sympathy for Mary and John, perhaps they didn’t think they were wrong about Jesus after all, but after quarreling with family or disciples they no longer tried to stop them from attempting to censor the abnormal Christ. They did these things, however before Christ died on the cross. The death we entered into when we were baptized.

As I mentioned in my last sermon, Christian death is something akin to Buddhist detachment. Detachment gets a bad reputation I think, because so many Westerners use it as an excuse to cut themselves off from their emotions. I don’t believe that is the real meaning of detachment, and certainly not what I mean by Christian death.

Christian death is willingness to be the wierdo who recognizes Christ. Like John, we admit there’s something wrong with normal and are willing to help other people who know something is wrong. And hopefully they will recognize Christ too, though the point is certainly not to make more Christians. The point is to bring about the Kingdom of God, a little bit at a time.

And there will be times when the better option is to keep our mouth shut than to have a useless conversation with normal people. After all Jesus tells us not to cast our pearls before swine. However, I do know how much turmoil that can cause. I know how our hearts burn to tell the uncomfortable truth.

I’m suggesting that Christian detachment is a way to calm the turmoil. It’s a way to love our enemies. We step back and remember we’re not normal. We've already died. How can they hurt us when we’re already dead? We may have righteous anger burning within us, but let’s let the Holy Spirit guide us in when and how to express it. It belongs to God as we belong to God. We are Christ’s mother and brothers and sisters.

Text: 

• First reading
  • Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
• Psalm
  • Luke 1:46b-55
• Second reading
  • 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
• Gospel
  • John 1:6-8, 19-28

First Advent

Isaiah laments that God has hidden, and because the great miracles of old are no longer seen, the people sin. Even then it had been a long time since God had drowned a whole army for the chosen people. It’s been even longer now. And as tempting as it is to hope for God to smite our enemies, God doesn’t do that kind of thing anymore.

The psalmist laments that those who worship God look like fools because God’s face is not known; pleading for the shine of God’s face. This God did, but in a way that looked even more foolish to their scornful enemies. For the incarnation came humble and vulnerable and the Glory God revealed was the Glory of the crucifixion.

Paul says that the Corinthians wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps, they, as many Christians do today, await the end times expecting some grand miracle, as unmistakable as drowning Pharaoh’s army; a grand gesture that will prove our faith to the scornful. 

Our Gospel tonight is in answer to Peter, Andrew, James and John, who asked Jesus in private when the end times will come. Jesus’ answer is far less clear than we, or perhaps even they would have liked. Jesus unmistakably refers to the destruction of the Temple. He seems to indicate that the Son of Man will gather the elite soon afterwards. However He then admits even He doesn’t know when this will happen.

What is clear here and elsewhere in the Gospels, is that His followers are expected to live as if He is returning at all times. And this is not just for Peter, Andrew, John and James. What I say to you, I say to all: “Keep Awake!” Like many things Jesus says, there’s a both/and aspect to this. The Kingdom is to come, yet it is already here. Jesus does reveal himself again and again to many in visions or epiphanies, and to all of us every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Yet if we are not alert, we can miss his revelation.

As for the coming tribulation and the fear that Peter, Andrew, John & James betrayed in wanting to know when it is. I’d like us to recall that in Larry’s sermon a few weeks back, he reminded us of Paul’s conviction that we are buried with Jesus by baptism into death. That death has come and gone for us, we are as already dead, and we walk in the newness of life with the risen Christ. That to live a Christian life is to live a life as if you were already dead.

What this reminded me of was a true story of a Buddhist nun who went up a mountain to live in a cave until she achieved enlightenment. When she started her descent, indicating that she had achieved enlightenment, a crowd gathered to ask her questions. One asked, “Do you still have a personality?” “Yes,” she said, “I do. I just don’t believe in it anymore.”

To live as if you’re already dead is not to end our daily chores and routines. We’ll still make dinner and pay bills. What we’re getting at here is a Christian detachment. We’ll be exploring this more as we journey through the coming Church seasons. For now, I’d like to mention that even the most enlightened person sometimes falls into believing their personality. That as we go through our daily live and tasks, it will be easy for us to forget we’re already dead. And we can miss Christ’s continuing self-revelation. And so we need to keep awake.

In Mark’s Gospel these are Jesus’ last words of instruction. The rest is narration of the passion ending in the empty tomb. Mark (before the additional ending added later) ends with the women running from the tomb too afraid to say anything. Mark never describes the resurrected Jesus. And so Jesus’ last instruction to all according to Mark is: “keep Awake.”

Advent is a both/and season. We await entering into the sacred time of the incarnation and we await the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. Like the inner circle of the twelve it is so tempting to want specifics from Jesus. Like the chosen of old, we want a big show. Vigilance is tiring. Yet God has proven to be subtle. God tends to reveal in the unexpected. Christ tells us to look for him in the lowly, the suffering – even in our own suffering. As we enter this advent season, we, like Marks’ community, stand at the empty tomb, and remember Jesus’ voice saying, “Keep Awake.”