Well, here we are, in the season of Advent.  The modern word advent comes from the Latin word, Adventus, which means ‘coming’, and refers to the coming birth of Jesus.
The early church, around 5 or 6 hundred years after Christ’s resurrection, began to observe fasts and prayers 5 weeks before Christmas.  Pope Gregory shortened the season to 4 weeks, and the season eventually developed away from fasting and repentance, and took on a more reflective and celebratory tone.

The liturgical colors are purple, sometimes blue, but they echo the liturgical colors of Lent, because it was originally a Lent-like observance.

Each week of Advent signifies a unique aspect of our observance.  Many churches use Hope, Peace, Love, and Joy, in varying order to help congregation’s focus their attention on the Christ child’s arrival.

Advent wreaths are common in churches and in homes, where simple prayers, or even more complex readings are offered.

Today, we light the candle of Hope.  So for us, Advent begins with hope: literally and figuratively.  This makes sense to me, especially as I began to plan for today’s sermon, and started to look for aspects of hope in our faith, and in our faith traditions.

Christianity is one of the more hopeful religions.  Each year, we begin our Advent devotions in anticipation of the birth of the Christ child.  And each year, at Christmas, we celebrate his birth.  You could say that he is born anew each year, in our hearts and in our traditions. But we each know the sacred story of the Messiah’s birth, and we retell it every year.  And every year, Christmas arrives, right on schedule.  We hope for it, and it comes.

Some of our foundational principles of Christianity are based in hope, and hopefulness.  Jesus loves us, just as we are.  Not as we wish to be, not as others would have us be, but just as we are.  Often flawed, rarely perfect, we are loved by our Lord and Savior and our Creator God with our shortcomings and our imperfections intact.

And we are forgiven our sins when we ask, when we repent, when we realize what we have done.  This is such a hopeful aspect of our faith!

Even our basic communication with our Lord and Savior and our God is hopeful: prayer is an act of hope.  When we pray, we let God know about the things that worry us, the things that disturb us, the things that frighten us, as well as the things that thrill us, the things that feed us, and the things that lift up our hearts.  Prayer is a hopeful act based on faith, trust, and experience.  So when we pray, we are participating in a tradition of hope.

Our bible, the sacred Word of God, is a hopeful book.  The New Testament contains our Gospel.  And the word gospel means ‘good news’ in Greek.  So the central stories of Jesus, his birth, his ministry, his arrest, crucifixion, death and resurrection, are known collectively as the Good News.  Their focus on our forgiveness through the Messiah’s sacrifice is good news.  Our gospels are stories of hope, and they give us hope when life presents us with challenges.
The Christian faith presents us with the concept of the life ever after.  The Kingdom of Heaven, and just plain Heaven.  Our faith, our traditions, our practices tell us that we need not be afraid of anything, not even death.  That our place in heaven is secure when we are secure in our faith.  This is amazingly hopeful, and helpful for us when we are struggling.  There are few things we fear more than our deaths.  But Jesus tells us we need not even fear that!

On this first Sunday in Advent, we are surrounded by signs of Hope.  When we act on our faith, we help provide food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, water for the thirsty, comfort for those who mourn, company for the lonely.  And when we are hungry, or thirsty, or homeless, or in mourning, or lonely, we have brothers and sisters who can help us.

When we think we have reached a dead-end, there is a new path to follow.  When we’ve run out of ideas, a new one pops into our heads.  When all we have left is our tears and our cries, we have a God who not only hears our prayers, but who promises to love us and protect us and walk with us in the darkest valleys.  This gives me hope.

In the midst of chaos, violence, uncertainty, and sometimes even evil, we belong to a faith that offers not only triumph over those earthly things, but victory over eternal things as well.  And our relationship with the sacred, with our God, with our Lord and Savior, does not depend on how ‘good’ we are, no, it depends on whether we believe or not.  We make mistakes, but we are forgiven, if we believe.  No amount of donations to the church, or a charity, will guarantee forgiveness if we do not believe. 

Even our sacred music is hopeful.  The lyrics of course describe the many blessings that God bestows upon us, the many blessings we have because of Jesus, but even the very chord structure of many of our hymns end in hopeful major keys.  Yes, there are a few hymns that end in minor chords, the ones that are either based on ancient Jewish tunes, or the ones that are written to make us reflect on a particular sadness or issue, like Christ’s crucifixion, but the majority of our hymns are hopeful and hope filled, and they can leave our hearts and our souls singing for hours and even days after our worship is over.

And if that isn’t enough to convince you that we are a hopeful people, let’s take a look at our Advent observances: each week, we introduce more light into the world, by lighting another candle.  In fact, this is the opposite of what we do during the Tenebrae, or the service of the shadows on Maundy Thursday, where we extinguish candles until we are in the dark.  So Advent, then, is about bringing more light into the world, in order to celebrate the ‘Light of the World’.  And who wouldn’t want more light?
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Now, I’ve spoken about our traditions, about our worship, about our sacred texts.  The next thing I want to mention is that our faith practice is based on Jesus coming again into this world.  The end times, the second coming, is something we cannot predict, but is something we as Christians hope for, because it signifies yet again a new beginning for the world.

This is what Jesus is speaking about in our good news passage, our gospel reading for today: we must be ready for Jesus to come again into our world.  That is our hope, that is our aim.

And how do we do that?  How do we prepare when we know not the hour that he will arrive?  By always being ready!  By practicing our faith each day, each week, each month and year, until he come, or we are taken.

By caring for the least of our sisters and brothers, by welcoming the stranger into our midst with grace and hospitality.  By turning the other cheek when we are hurt by another.  By going the extra mile, by giving up our shirts too, when someone asks for our coats.  There is no shortage of instructions and suggestions from our Lord and Savior in our gospels, we are not without a roadmap in following Jesus.

So what are we to do?  What are we to do as faithful followers of Jesus, as faithful children of God, as Christians in a world that is growing increasingly secular, or non-religious?

Today, it’s simply to have hope. Have hope in our God, in our Savior, in the future of the world and the universe.  For today, it’s enough to be hopeful in a world that is mostly hopeless.
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We will need to be the lonely single Hope candle, burning in the dark world, defying the dark, against the cold, offering light and warmth as a beacon to the future. Today it will be enough if we become the hope we need to see in the world.  Amen.

​I don’t know about you, but I find this morning’s gospel lesson from Luke to be reassuring, comforting, even.
 
At the beginning of the reading, Jesus had just finished praying, and was asked by one of his disciples to teach them how to pray the way John taught his disciples.
 
Jesus gives the disciples the foundation of the prayer we know today as the Lord’s Prayer.
 
But he also gives them a parable about a friend who needs bread to serve to an unexpected traveler. The friend knocks on the door, late at night, and asks to borrow 3 loaves of bread.
 
Jesus tells them that the one who was awakened refused at first, because of the late hour. But he tells the disciples that he will get up and get the bread for his friend, not because of the friendship, but because of the friend’s persistence.
 
He concludes this short lesson to the disciples with the reminder ‘Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.’
 
Sometimes, we’re afraid to ask. Sometimes we don’t have the energy to search. Sometimes we are too anxious to knock. But Jesus wants the disciples, and us, to know that we can take the risk, we can take the chance, we can trust that with persistence, God will respond.
 
We have our Hebrew Scripture to give us an example of this sacred persistence: Abraham knew that the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah was their failure to provide hospitality, but he also knew that God is a forgiving God. He engages God in a sort of negotiation, getting God to admit at the end of the section that God would not destroy the cities if one righteous person could be found.
 
Our reading today ends with God saying that God would save the cities for 10 righteous people, but it goes all the way down to 1. That’s bold. That’s trusting, that’s persistent!

Jesus wants us to know that we can ask, that we can search, that we can knock on any of God’s closed doors, and that with persistence, what we seek will be found, what is closed will be open to us.
 
But many of us are afraid of what we will find, afraid that the answer we seek isn’t actually the one we want, that the open door will reveal things we aren’t expecting.
 
That’s ok. Jesus says, that’s ok. When we trust God enough to ask, or search, or knock, then we trust enough to receive the answer. Jesus wants us to have the courage of our convictions in order to persist in our asking.
 
Life and our life experiences may have made us shy about asking for what we need. Jesus says, don’t worry about that. Insecurity about our individual prayer lives might make us afraid to knock on God’s door. Jesus says don’t worry about that.  Distance from God, or Jesus, may make us leery about boldly searching for the path God leads us to. Jesus says, don’t worry about that, persist, and God will answer, God will open doors.
 
If, and this is a big if, we can, through our prayers and our meditations, grow to trust God like Abraham trusted God, or even trust God like the friend who knocked in the middle of the night trusted his friend to open the door and help, we will have the boldness to persist in our quest.
 
I think many of us don’t ask, don’t seek, don’t knock, because we’re afraid of the answer. We want a particular thing, healing maybe, or relief from something painful in our lives, and we’re afraid that the answer will be no, or not now. Jesus seems to be implying that with trust and persistence, we’ll be able to accept God’s answer, accept what’s behind the open door, even if it’s not what we had hoped for.
 
But Jesus wants us to ask, wants us to search, wants us to knock. That’s why he gave us his prayer. And that’s why as faithful children of God, we’re meant to seek, we’re meant to search and knock. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
 
Let us be so bold as to ask, seek, and knock. Let us persist in our prayers for peace, and forgiveness, and the end of violence in our world. Let us trust that with our persistence, God will provide. Amen.