Staying Awake for Christmas

Romans 13:11-14
Advent 1
11/27/22
William G. Carter

Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

Here's a moment that you might have experienced, but probably won’t admit. You’re behind the wheel of a car. It’s a dark night in late November. You have miles to go. You’ve been traveling over the river and through the woods. Or you might be headed home. But you’ve been on the road for a while. Your brain is weary. The possibility of danger is high.

At any moment Bambi and the family could wander onto the road. If the night is frosty and the pavement is damp, the next curve may reveal a patch of ice. Something behind you might distract you – the kids might be arguing. An unmapped pothole could lie waiting to bite a chunk out of your front right tire. Yet the greatest danger of all is falling asleep.

Now, you’re not going to admit that to anybody. Not here, not in church. But I will admit it to you. If the day has been long, if the soul is tired, if the eyelids are heavy, you could be in big trouble. One bob of the head could land you into a ditch. A simple lapse in vigilance might deploy an airbag. Don’t tell me if this has ever happened to you. If it’s a familiar experience, just nod your head.

On the way to-or-from Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s, my father tried valiantly to stay awake. It was a six-hour trip. We always arrived in one piece, so I can assume he was successful. Sometimes he nursed coffee from a stainless-steel thermos. Once he ignited a cherry-flavored cigar (which wasn’t a good idea, especially with three of four kids prone to carsickness). Mom, in the backseat, might start leading a song.

If desperate, Dad would roll down the window. The blast of frigid air shocked all of us out of slumber. Whatever it took, he pressed to keep his eyes open. He knew what could happen if he didn’t.

Now, what does all of this have to do with the first Sunday of Advent, you might ask? Everything. Saint Paul writes to the saints in Rome to say, “Keep your eyes peeled. Don’t fall asleep.” He hasn’t met those people, but by chapter thirteen they are well acquainted. He has sent them the thickest letter in the New Testament. Not only the longest, but the thickest, for Saint Paul has rolled out the entire Christian Gospel, and then some:

All have sinned and fallen off God’s wagon. We have no excuse.

For all of us sinners, Christ died to bridge the gap between us and God.

In the power of his resurrection, he has freed us from sin and death.

Nothing shall separate us from this love of God.

The entire creation of God shall be redeemed.

All we need do is trust this is true.

Now, that’s the short version of the letter to the Romans. The hidden transformation of the cosmos begins with a crucifixion and an empty tomb. God is working it out even now. The final moment is close at hand.

And today Paul adds, “Don’t miss it.” Don’t miss what God has done in Jesus. Don’t miss what God is doing in the Spirit of Jesus. And for heaven’s sake, don’t miss the moment when the whole thing is finished. He has to say this because it is possible to miss it. There is the constant temptation to “fall asleep.”

Now, he’s not talking about the “sleep” of death. Occasionally he uses that euphemism to describe what happens when people slip away for the last time. They “fall asleep” (koimao) in the Lord, and he keeps them until the great and final day of resurrection.

But that’s not the word he uses for sleep here. No, he speaks an unusual word, a subtle word.

The word is “hypnos.” Sounds like “hypnotize.” It’s the kind of sleep we can fall into with our eyes wide open.

How many times was I driving the car, and I didn’t fall asleep, I didn’t nod off, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last ten miles? Do you know what I’m talking about? That’s what Saint Paul is talking about  

It’s that drowsiness of spirit, that numbness of the heart, that chilling of perception, that glancing but not paying attention. And Paul says, “Wake up!” (I’ve always wanted to say that in a sermon.) God’s activity is right at hand. Don’t miss it. Don’t nod off 

He’s speaking of a certain kind of slumber. It’s hypnotic, like losing count of road signs, or watching a silver watch swing back and forth and back and forth and back and… And he spotlights three general ways that this hypnotic slumber can overtake us: reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy. (I’ve always wanted to say some of those words in a sermon, too.)

• Reveling and drunkenness – to use the Scranton euphemism, the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. Partying is just another word for over-consumption.

• Debauchery and licentiousness – I don’t have a Scranton euphemism for those, but they involve a kind of consumption as well. It’s possible to reduce another human being to something to be consumed.

• Quarreling and jealousy – no euphemism necessary. Just imagine a family Thanksgiving dinner conversation that goes off the rails. What’s the worst that can happen. Simply this: loved ones can consume one another.

These are nighttime activities, says the apostle, dangers that frequently happen after dark. If we are not careful, if we don’t use some restraint, if we don’t train ourselves to hold back, our natural impulses can take over. We consume – and end up consumed by our consumption.

Please note: Paul is not wagging his finger but offering a warning. And he’s giving his advice to Christian people, to those who know Jesus is alive – yet live in a world hellbent on gobbling up everything and everybody in sight.

The context of his words intrigues me. How many good Christian people have already overspent for Christmas?

It’s so easy to do. Point and click; you don’t even feel the pain. And speaking of overconsumption, I’ve just had two enormous family meals in the past three days. It’s good to be thankful – but gratitude came awfully close to gluttony. No wonder I’ve been terribly sleepy since Thursday afternoon.

Sometimes it’s hard to keep a clear-eyed view on what to do and how to live in a world like this. I think of all the movies that entertained us while pushing the limits. Some of you are old enough to remember Days of Wine and Roses or The Graduate. I asked my kids. They chuckled and said The Hangover. As for me and my generation, we bought tickets to see Animal House and watched it more than once.

We live in a culture that lacks restraint. And to be fair, it’s always been that way – and always will be. It was certainly that way in the Roman Empire of the apostle Paul. So he says, “Stay awake.” Don’t grouse or give in. Don’t boycott or sneak in the side door. No, here’s what you do: keep your eyes open.

Open for what? Open to God’s continuing work to forgive and not destroy, to love and not quarrel, to honor and not demean, to live without embarrassment as if you are standing in bright sunshine and not the shadows of night. Paul says to the Christian people, “You belong to the daylight, not the darkness. Live with honor.” This is how we stay awake. This is how we watch for God’s redemption of a hungry, overconsuming world.

I have a dear friend who took a fulltime teaching job at a Presbyterian seminary a few years ago. At the HR office, she was given a stack of paperwork to sign. There was the salary contact, a personnel policy, parking pass, and assorted agreements. Then they gave her one more piece of paper: the comportment policy. Know what that is? It was an agreement to live your life in such a way that it never becomes a scandal for the school where she would teach. They don’t want to see your name in the police blotter, nor hear it whispered in the rumor mill. 

I said, “I’ve never heard of such a thing. What’s that all about?” She said, “My supervisor never wants to see behavior from me that distracts our school from its mission.” The littlest incident can have enormous consequences. And it could become a distraction, originating from a subtle form of hypnosis, which becomes a falling asleep.

It gave me something to think about that, considering the advice offered by the apostle Paul. How can we live in ways that honor the Lord our God? How can we honor the people around us, refusing to demean or dismiss them? How can we show enough restraint to keep from embarrassing ourselves, always living honorably?

These are open questions with no simple answers. But they are essential questions as we begin the season of Advent. We prepare for the fullness of Light that has been ignited by the coming of Jesus Christ into our world. Though dimly seen by many, his light grows brighter. And his light will increase until it floods all the shadows. All things shall be seen for what they are.

So what I say, I say to all: stay awake.

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.