Advent Sunday: Write your own Eulogy

Sermon by the Revd Dr Brutus Green
Readings: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25:1-9;' 1Thessalonians 3:9-end; Luke 21:25-36

The merging of Advent and Christmas is lamented by the pious and the proud - especially grim, strident priests of a leftwing variety, who grimace at commercialisation – Black Friday is BLACK indeed – and decry the superficiality of a lost generation.  These tinsel-trashers insist on no Christmas trees before the 24th and nothing but plainsong chants for Advent hymns.

After the covid-carnage of last Advent, I wonder whether the children will remember the Patriarchs; Next week’s prophets might be easier – If there’s any children not isolating. Thankfully technology has now given us tablets and I can bring one in to illustrate Moses bringing down the Ten Commandments.  Obviously his were made of stone – probably by IBM – but a lot has changed since then. John the Baptist and Mary are easier. I think locusts and honey sticks in children’s minds, and everyone wants to be Mary.

Each Sunday is greeted in Advent, then, by the rather muted lighting of a candle for each of these sets of people, who have received the promises of God – leading up to the birth of Jesus, but the mince pies, traditionally, are put on hold.

My mum's way of preparing for Christmas, on the other hand, is to watch a different Christmas movie every day. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; I’ve already watched Home Alone 1, 2 and 3, the Family Stone, and of course the Holiday. But my mother is just as likely to slip on to Hallmark films, which always seem to revolve around an elf turning naughty with hilarious consequences before the family dog somehow saves the day.

So Advent used to be the austerity month of fasting and prayer before the joyful twelve days of Christmas. Today we have just six days of Christmas.  By New Year morning people have had enough and started a godless dry January; January, now, the month of austerity and huddling against the winter and sickness.

But Advent austerity and Christmas celebration cross over in the sense of waiting and expectancy. For a certain sensibility the appropriate thing is sackcloth and ashes, for others Christmas parties and shopping.  Fasting or frolicking - I’m not taking sides, but I’ve already had my first mulled wine – Not, I assure you, with dissipation and drunkenness.

There’s a similar splitting when you examine how people see the progress of history. For some – such as the writer Stephen Pinker – the world is slowly becoming a better, less violent place. Science, technology, civilisation are bringing about a more stable, enlightened world.  For others, the only real advances have been made in the field of dentistry.  The nuclear threat, terrorism, tsunamis and the rising temperature are all indicative that the end of the world is nigh.

Intriguingly, I’ve known more people that were not religious than religious who thought the end of the world was coming. This sort of thinking is not especially the province of religions now – apocalyptic and dystopian novels and films abound; The Hunger Games, the Walking Dead, the Handmaid’s Tale’ And it’s the Greta Thunbergs who have the real monopoly on predicting the End. The Bible of course has been quietly saying this for millennia: ‘There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.’ Perhaps we will finally be proved right. But for the most part the Christian tradition has seen speculation about the future as a distraction.  The point of Advent is to be in the present; to look at the world as it stands, ourselves and responsibilities, and to be ready – even now – to be able to give account for our lives before God.

In the last 18 months I’ve taken a great number of funerals. It’s a great privilege to hear people describing the lives of their loved ones – with pride, with honesty, with regret, with large gaps. It’s a complicated business; and often people are unsure how and what to include. For some it’s a bullet-point CV, for others a character sketch. I’ve met with a couple of people this year, in good health, to plan their funerals. People don’t often do it – perhaps it seems to some macabre. I’ve not heard yet of anyone writing their own eulogy. In a way, it might be quite helpful. What your brother, your husband, your daughter thinks about your life is one thing. But what do you value, that you’d want people to know?

And, crucially, of those things that you’d want mentioned, are any of them happening in your life today? Or are you too busy keeping the wheel spinning, maintaining the status quo, balancing income vs expenditure; Preventing infection; Are you pushing everything important back for when you’re retired? Are you – right now – living out your values?

Whether it’s actual war, a cold war, nuclear terror, environmental armagaddeon, the threat of endtimes is always present:  There is ‘distress among nations’ with ‘People fainting from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world’.  Being at peace with ourselves is the first step to sharing that peace with the world. What Scripture does not tell us, though, is to turn in upon ourselves; to defensively barricade ourselves against the world; to mistrust our neighbour. St Paul’s prayer in our second reading is ‘may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all’. We are more inclined to close borders today, against variants, migrants and refugees than ever before.  As Christians we can’t live our lives like that.

These days of Advent are days of preparation for Christmas. Preparation for the miracle of God being with us. As the Collect for Advent says, then, we are praying for protection against the present darkness, both from within and without: ‘Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness and to put on the armour of light’ But also we are look forward with hope to God being with us, working in the hearts of men and women, We are asked to keep our faith in God and people.

There is always light and darkness, but just as Christmas takes us back to our childhood and simpler times  so it should remind us, as I think children naturally do, to look for the best in people and to hope and work for a brighter future. So whether we’re throwing ourselves at full Christmas already, or staving off Mariah Carey a couple more weeks; whether the world is teetering on the edge of the abyss or slowly inching towards better times,  Advent is a time to remember the promises of God – that God is with us to the end –  and to look at ourselves in the mirror and ask ourselves whether right now we’re heading in the right direction and living the life we’d choose? Are we on guard with our hearts not weighed down? Are we ready to receive the Lord when he comes? Amen.