First Sunday of Advent
December 1, 2024
Luke 21:25-36

The audio version of this sermon is available here. The livestream of the worship service is availabel on the Trinity Episcopal Church YouTube Channel.

Like tens of millions of Americans, last week I packed up the car and we drove to be with family for Thanksgiving. The traffic on 45 was horrendous. The parking lot at Buc-ee’s was a nightmare. Why do we do this to ourselves? I mean, what do you get at the end of it? A slice of turkey and a pile of mashed potatoes? What a letdown.

No, of course not. We fought the traffic, we waited in line at the gas station, we ate our turkey, to be with people we care about. And gathered at my in-laws’ house with family, we told stories. We talked about what had happened in our lives since the last Thanksgiving. We talked about all the old Longhorns and Aggies games we had watched, Hook ‘em. We told stories. We told stories about family members who have since gone on. We told stories about people we miss. Yes, we even told some of the unpleasant stories, stories that some of us would rather forget. 

Stories are what sustain human communities. In our most primeval form, humans gathered around campfires and in caves to tell stories. It’s why we still read novels, it’s why science fiction is still a thing; it’s why we watch sitcoms and go to the movies. Humans tell stories. Even in this world of technology and data, we read our children bedtime stories. To open their imagination, we don’t read them science textbooks, we read them things from The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Harry Potter. To teach our children right from wrong, we don’t read them legal codes and law books; we tell them fairly tales and fables and legends. To help our children take their place at the Thanksgiving table, we make sure that they know the family lore. Because stories shape our imagination, stories keep us together.

And truly, it’s why we have a Bible. It’s for story. And it keeps us together. In the most basic sense, the Bible is a collection of stories – stories about God’s relationship with humans over the course of thousands of years. The Bible is not a science textbook, it’s not a repository for facts. No, it’s better than that. It’s full of stories. Some of them are beautiful, yes, and you love telling them over and over again. Like your favorite family stories. Some of them are hard, and difficult to swallow; like some of your family stories.

This became apparent to me all over again this week. See, every year before the First Sunday of Advent – that’s today – I sit down and read through the entire gospel that we’ll be using in the next year. This church year, starting today, we will be reading through the Gospel according to Saint Luke, all the way until next December. This is one of my spiritual practices. One day a year, I make a pot of coffee, I grab my Bible, and I read through the entire gospel in one sitting. 

And the Gospel of Luke, more than the others, is a collection of stories. Different sections of the gospel will begin with sayings like: “on one occasion,” or “once,” or “on a sabbath,” or “on another sabbath.” It’s how your family stories start. “Do you remember that one time…” Or, “I think it was last Thanksgiving that we…” Or, “I can’t believe this is the first holiday without…” 

It’s like the Gospel of Luke has gathered us, the Church, around the Thanksgiving table and is telling us stories. The stories of Jesus healing people, and helping them; of Jesus bringing good news to the poor, and his compassion for some poor women. Stories of people asking for forgiveness, and stories of people receiving forgiveness. It’s only Luke that tells us the story of Jesus being born in the manger. It’s only in Luke that Jesus tells us a story about a father and his son who wasted all his inheritance; it’s only in Luke that the risen Jesus shares a meal with some disciples on the road on Easter afternoon. Look around at these windows in our church, most of them are from the Gospel of Luke. There is the Joseph and Mary in the Temple with baby Jesus. There is Jesus as a boy back in Jerusalem. There is Saint Luke himself in the back. These stories are the spiritual imagination of this parish. We read them, we hear them, we see them. 

And these stories form us, shape us, and sustain our community. When we talk about restoring this old church building to its glory, I don’t want to talk about dollars and budgets and windows – I want to talk about that story when Jesus sits down in a synagogue building and talks to his friends about God. When we’re trying to get enough toys together for the families of St. Vincent’s House, I don’t want to talk about wrapping gifts and gathering all the presents – I want to talk about that time Jesus sat down and fed five thousand people with just a few loaves of bread. I don’t want to talk about the number of children we have in youth group and at Sunday School – I want to talk about that time when Jesus called the children together and blessed them. These stories, they aren’t just some old fables we read on Sunday mornings. No, these stories give us purpose, as followers of Jesus. We keep telling and retelling these old stories because they still mean something for us.

Even the odd stories like this one. About staying alert, about hard times ahead, about heaven and earth passing away. I know it’s tempting to say that this is just some old story that doesn’t mean anything to us anymore. But it must have a purpose, because Luke decided to write it down. It’s like those uncomfortable family stories we all have. We keep them around, because they are important even if they don’t necessarily make us feel good. I think this story must have been important for those first Christians. When they were being persecuted and thrown to the lions and being mocked for their faith – you can imagine how this story would have helped them. So we keep reading these stories, even if they don’t fit our time, because for some Christians, this is a story that really matters.

And I want you to know these stories, because in them you will find meaning. So this morning, on this First Sunday of Advent as we begin a new church year, I have a challenge for you. Read the Gospel of Luke. Get to know the stories of our faith. Get to know them better than you already do. If you’ve read it before or you’ve never read it. Read Luke. And I know you are busy people – so you can get it as an audiobook. Listen to it while you do the dishes, while you fold laundry, while you’re driving to work. You can even find a version where James Earl Jones reads you the Bible. That’s awesome. Just as you pass on your family stories, the Church is trying to pass on the stories of our faith. So take the time and listen to them, read them. And I’m making this deal with you now. If you read through the Gospel of Luke before Ash Wednesday – that’s March 5 of next year – you call me up. And we go to coffee. And we talk about it. I want to hear what you learned, and I want to learn about how those stories are shaping you. I’m giving you three months, I did it in one day, and I promise you, I’m not that smart.

Today, the First Sunday of Advent, marks the beginning of our look toward Christmas. And as all the other bits of Christmas will be competing for your time, money, and attention – the shopping, the decorating, the endless parties – carve out the time to remember, to reconnect, and to hear the old stories.