Today is the First Sunday of Advent, and with it, the liturgical colour shifts from green to blue. The long stretch of Ordinary Time that we’ve had for the past six months has come to an end, and we now enter a new Christian calendar – a new season of waiting and anticipation. The English word “Advent” comes from the Latin adventus, meaning “coming.” We are waiting for the coming of the Christ Child. 

This first Sunday of Advent calls us to reflect on hope. As December begins, we often find ourselves busier than ever. For instance, when my children, who live far away, send me their travel itineraries confirming that they will be home for Christmas, we start planning our activities for the season. One of our cherished traditions is going downtown to take photos beside Christmas trees. It may sound odd to some, but it has become a deeply meaningful family ritual. I’m not sure exactly when or how this started, but it has now become part of our routine. I imagine many of you have your own treasured Christmas family traditions, and I encourage you to keep them alive as they enrich our lives in unique and special ways.

However, God’s approach to this season challenges ours. While we might feel tempted to rush through Advent, skipping over its quiet moments and heading straight to the festivities – shopping, eating, and celebrating – Advent calls us to slow down. It offers us a sacred space to reflect, to pause, and to examine our lives.

I remember my first Advent season as a minister in Alberta. Some congregants asked me whether we could sing Christmas carols before Christmas. I recalled hearing about ministers and theologians who firmly discouraged carols during Advent, insisting that this season was for repentance rather than celebration. I didn’t fully agree with this rigid perspective, so I embraced a compromise. We sang carols gradually, adding more each week as Christmas approached. This approach honoured both the spirit of waiting and the joy that awaited us.

Advent mirrors the Israelites’ wilderness journey during their 70-year Babylonian Exile. It was a time of waiting and reflection. Similarly, today’s Gospel reading from Luke speaks of cosmic signs – disturbances in the sun, moon, and stars; roaring seas; surging waves; and trembling planets – signs that terrify people. 

These images remind us of the tension between God’s ways and ours. While we often desire quick fixes and straightforward answers, Advent calls us into a slower, more reflective journey – a journey of waiting, repentance, and hope. 

And so we ask: Why Advent? Why this way? What difference does it make? 

The answer lies in Advent’s profound relevance to our lives. In our broken world marked by uncertainly – lingering COVID-19 variants, wars, climate disasters, economic injustices, and widespread suffering – Advent reminds us that God never gives up on us. Despite our fears and anxieties, the angel’s message still echoes today: “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy for all people.” God’s promises remain steadfast, offering hope even in our darkest hours. 

The prophet Jeremiah, speaking to the Israelites in exile, delivers a message of hope: “the days are surely coming,” he says, when God’s will fulfill divine promises. Jeremiah’s words point to a God who brings redemption in unexpected ways – a righteous branch from David’s like will emerge, bringing salvation. For us, that branch is Jesus, the fulfillment of God’s promises. 

Advent is a season where we meet a God who works through surprising, transformative grace. For the Israelites in Babylon, facing captivity and despair, God’s promise of restoration was a lifeline. Similarly, in our own struggles, Advent invites us to trust in God’s creative and redemptive purposes, even when the future seems uncertain.

Think of Advent as a poem – a love poem from God, written in the rhythm of eternity. Every word rhymes with love; every line points to hope. As we “wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Saviour,” we hold the expectation and reality of God’s presence within us.

In the Gospel of Luke today, Jesus, just days before his crucifixion, speaks of the fig tree. When its leaves sprout, it signals hope and a symbol that God’s kingdom is near. Even in the midst of destruction and confusion, whether we call it fate, chaos, or God’s absence, Jesus calls us to participate fully in life. He urges us to “stand up and raise our heads.” because our redemption is near.

Let me share a story. Last June, at our Regional gathering, I met a chaplain from First United Church in Vancouver. She, her husband, and their son had moved to Canada after feeling hopeless following the 2017 US presidential election. In their despair, they pursued hope, ultimately finding a new beginning in Canada. This story reminds us that hope often requires action – a willingness to seek something better, even in the face of uncertainty. Our response is to keep loving God and our neighbours as ourselves. The proper posture is to raise our heads and embrace hope.

So, can we hope? Yes, we can. Hope is not something passive; it is something we learn and cultivate. It starts with saying “yes” to the future. Even when the future of humanity and the earth feels dark, hope is choosing to live, thrive, work, and fight for the life of creation. Advent reminds us that, despite our suffering, we can trust in God’s unexpected and transformative grace. 

Just as we must endure the longest night of the year, the winter solstice, before the days grow longer, Advent calls us to reflect and prepare for the coming of the Christ Child. Hope is on the horizon. Amen.