One of the chief virtues that was instilled in me was mannerly behavior — or “niceness.” We were taught to be courteous, well behaved and agreeable — anything but agitational, which, we assumed, was something “outsiders” did! Thus, early in my ministry, while serving an urban church in Baltimore, I was taken aback during a training session in the tools of community organizing when the instructor encouraged us to agitate people to act. I immediately retracted into my shell. No, I thought to myself, I’m a pastor. Pastors do not agitate; we are pastoral — we are nice! But the experienced community organizer in charge of training us that day did not stop agitating. She contended that when people express concern, anger or exasperation about their neighborhoods, lack of jobs or any other aspect of common life, we must always ask: “And what are you willing to do about it?” You agitate, she said, because it builds a community that is willing to act. This was a new idea to me — way outside the box of my midwestern sensibilities. But upon reflection I realized, of course, that Christians have allowed a whole lot of bad things to go unchecked, simply by being nice!
The first Sunday of Advent is not about being nice; it is about being agitational. Traditionally, Advent One is about the future coming of the crucified and risen Christ to judge the principalities and powers of evil. Thus, the Season of Advent begins with a bold proclamation about the Christ who will ultimately prevail over the brokenness of the world. The lectionary texts for this Sunday speak in varied ways about accountability (God’s and ours) for the ultimacy of God’s purpose and vision — they prod us to discern the commonwealth of God in our midst as it strains toward realization now. The psalmist confidently calls for divine restoration of Israel, a forsaken vine that has lost its way, so that it may serve as God intended among the nations. And then, recalling the wilderness wanderings when God’s glory was a light in the darkness, the psalmist pleads for God’s face to shine on Israel once more that it may be delivered from all that threatens it. In like manner, Isaiah echoes the Exodus story in calling (even agitating) for God to “tear open the heavens” and come down to do “awesome deeds” (similar to those that effected deliverance from enslavement in Egypt) for those who wait. In 1 Corinthians, Paul invokes the abundance of divine gifts that can and should be used for the good of the whole community, rather than selfishly, as some in the Corinthian church were doing. And the evangelist Mark calls for vigilant waiting for the fullness of God’s future to come crashing into our present time.
A keynote on the first Sunday of Advent is waiting and watching for signs of that future in our midst. Mark’s exhortation to vigilance deserves special attention as we begin our journey through the season of Advent, for make no mistake about it: the waiting and watching and wakefulness of which it speaks is by no means passive. It is unmistakably agitational. After all, the one on clouds of glory for whom we wait was one who agitated throughout his life and ministry – one who confronted all that deforms and defaces human existence – and called us to follow, to join in as participants in God’s restoration project or mending creation. That requires the vigilance of which Mark speaks on the first Sunday of Advent — active, agitational waiting and watching.
When I think about what that looks like, I cannot help but recall an extraordinary phenomenon I observed many years ago during an extended sojourn in Texas. I was invited to attend a Texas A&M football game where I witnessed something I had never seen before: the Texas A&M student body standing during the entire game. I inquired about this odd behavior and was apprised of the legend dear to the heart of every Texas Aggie. In a far distant critical contest, a rash of injuries devastated the Aggie team, leaving only 10 men on the field. So as to keep the Aggies from a decisive defeat, one valiant member of the student body leaped from the stands, dashed onto the field and ran for a touchdown, contributing to a stunning victory on that day. Ever since, the Texas A&M student body remains standing during the entire course of every football game — waiting, vigilant, in readiness to dash from the stands and leap into action on the field. This is the kind of active waiting and watching Mark has in mind: vigilance that scrutinizes where we may leap into action, joining in at those points where God’s future is struggling toward realization now. John Calvin himself (in his discussion of the third use of the law) spoke of the Holy Spirit as one who works to “arouse” us and “will not let us stand still.” That Spirit drives us to broken places in the world around us where God is already at work — agitational work in need of our participation. For as Rachel Held Evans so memorably put it, “God is in the business of bringing dead things back to life … so if you want in on God’s business, you better prepare to follow God to all the rock-bottom, scorched earth, dead-on-arrival corners of this world – including those in your own heart – because … that’s where God gardens” (in “Searching for Sunday”).
We don’t have to look very far to discern those places at present, for we are living through a reckoning like no other. Racial, political and social fissures are all too palpable around us. It is a fearful time to think about jumping in. But Ibram Kendi has said this about fear: “Some of us are restrained by fear of what could happen to us if we resist. In our naïveté, we are less fearful of what could happen to us – or is already happening to us – if we don’t resist” (in “Be Antiracist: A Journal for Awareness, Reflection, and Action”). And it seems to me that Calvin is right when he says that the Spirit of God will not let us stand still. Ours is a time requiring deep discernment of what God is calling us to be and do – vigilant waiting and watching – so that we may join in at those agitational points where God’s future is struggling toward realization now.
I close with a quote from Douglas John Hall that captures the essence of the first Sunday of Advent in important respects: “The world is not fated to either evil or unambiguous good. … We believe, as disciples of the crucified one, that the essential goodness of the world … cannot be thwarted, for God is committed to it in longsuffering love. The God of the exodus and the cross has goodwill toward, and good intentions for, the world. … Yet we are not and cannot be complacent or passive in relation to this assurance; for the measure with which we are grasped by that divine blessing is the measure with which we ourselves are made active participants in its promise” (in “The Cross in Our Context”).
As you reflect on the lectionary texts before us this week, I invite you to ponder the following questions:
1. Is “agitate” a negative or positive word in your vocabulary? Have you ever felt like the prophet Isaiah, who with great longing agitated for God to “tear open the heavens” and come down to do “awesome deeds” (like those that freed captives from enslavement in Egypt)?
2. How can Mark’s vigilant waiting (a readiness to spring into agitational action) impact your life and ministry and that of the congregation?
3. Have you ever sensed the Spirit of God arousing you — refusing to let you stand still?
4. Fear of change or of the unknown is a major inhibitor of our participation in God’s work in the world. How do you handle fear in yourself or in others? How can fear be transformed into action?
5. Douglas John Hall observes that each day opens up new possibilities and new responsibilities. Where do possibilities connect with responsibilities in your own life and ministry?
6. Where do you discern points at which God’s future may be struggling toward realization now?
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