Advent 1

Ever notice that right before a storm is about to hit the birds go silent? All of a sudden, an eerie blanket of quiet descends all around you, and you know something ominous is going to occur. For all of our gifts as human beings, it seems we are the last creatures on earth to sense when something momentous is coming to pass.

Scientists believe that this is because animals have a better sense of sound and vibration than we do. They can sense when the barometric pressure drops or when low pressure systems are coming, and they react appropriately. Sharks swim to deeper waters. Animals go into hiding. Bees go into their hives. And the birds stop singing.

One physicist, Amos Dolbear, even noted that you can tell the temperature based on the frequency of a cricket’s chirps!

Some of us do sense humidity changes. Some human beings can develop sinus headaches when pressure systems drop. But most of us are taken by surprise, until we see the sky darken and the trees begin to sway in the wind. Then, we suddenly notice the “calm before the storm.”

We depend instead upon weather reports, science that can pay attention for us to help us know what’s coming and plan for its arrival. Even then, we can’t predict everything or how it will run its course. Our tropical storms are most dangerous, partly because of their unpredictability factor.

Take Hurricane Ian, for instance. On Monday, it was supposed to wipe out Tampa. On Tuesday, the forecast changed. On Wednesday, it wiped out Fort Myers Beach instead. We Floridians know that we must be prepared. So we get a generator in case of a power outage. We buy flood insurance. We stock extra food and water. We keep first aid kits handy. We work out a “what if” evacuation plan. We educate each other on the safest place in the house to gather. We keep flashlights, batteries and transistor radios on hand, and we consult helpful “how-to” lists on how to keep our families safe in the event of an emergency.

 When things grow silent and the sky grows dark, our plan goes into action.

Some disasters are even more unpredictable – volcano eruptions, tornados, earthquakes, tsunamis, and sinkholes (yet another Florida hazard). Some things can happen suddenly, taking even the most prepared off guard.

Remember the game called “musical chairs”? A group of people would assemble around a circle with only a certain number of chairs. The music would play, and the group would walk around the circle. When the music suddenly stopped, all would scramble to take a seat. Those who couldn’t get to a chair in time were “cast out” of the circle. This would occur, gradually removing chairs until only one would be left. He or she would be the “winner.”

Music can also be used in the form of a gag called “Musicalis Interruptus,” in which a concert or song may be going on, only to suddenly stop and be interrupted by someone who will address a person of honor or someone to be “roasted” who is taken (hopefully) by surprise.

Both of these make for fun musical games. But think about it. When the music stops and goes silent, that means something new and different is about to happen.

When the orchestra goes silent just before the play is about to begin.

When the “tuning” stops in order for the instrumentalists to get ready for the first piece.

When the soundtrack stops, and you know something in that movie is going to happen.

When the music stops, something is about to end, and something else is about to begin.

The American slang idiom for “when the music stops” means “you don’t get another chance.” You’re all out of extensions. You’ve come to the end of the road. You can get the gist of this idiom in a song by Don McClean, “American Pie,” a tribute to the death of Buddy Holly and others in a plane crash. The line, “when the music died,” is a swan song to the sudden and untimely demise of the rock and roll heroes.

These kinds of events take us entirely by surprise. In fact, it’s the element of surprise that causes us so much grief and shock. And yet, we know life can change suddenly and unexpectedly. While we need not live our lives “waiting for it,” we do need always to be aware of it, do what we can to ensure our best safety measures and try to live our best lives each and every day, grateful for the time we’ve been given.

In a sense, this is what Jesus is explaining to his disciples in today’s Gospel.

No one knows, not even Jesus, when he will return one day, when the “music” of our world, the chatter of our lives, will come to an end. We cannot live in perpetual fear, paralysis, or anxiety, waiting for it to happen. We must not try to figure it out with all kinds of plans, diagrams, predictions, or assurances.

But we do need to live our best lives, in gratitude for the time we’ve been given, in prayer to God and in worship of the One who makes our lives possible. We need to live in faith, assured that when Jesus comes and the world changes, when the music stops, we have done our best as human beings on this earth – we’ve loved well, we’ve shared well, we’ve forgiven much, we’ve shown mercy and understanding to others.

Jesus compares the finality of the earth with the flood of Noah. Life went on in the usual ways right up until it didn’t. No one knew. No one will know this time either. But like Noah, we can remain faithful, trust God, and live our best lives. We we can prepare ourselves, our hearts, our minds, and our spirits for the coming of the Lord. We can “stay awake” to the presence of the Spirit around us and stay in tune with our Lord Jesus and his direction for our lives. We can be prepared and ready for a storm to come, even if we don’t know when it will hit, even if we don’t know if it will sweep our way or not.

Today, we enter into a time of “advent,” a time in which we remind ourselves to focus on God and God’s coming Son. This is a time of spiritual alertness, in which we engage ourselves all the more deeply in our relationship with Jesus.

We can be absentminded and distracted by the ways of the world and our own, tempestuous lives. We can get caught up in conflicts, stubbornness, and petty things. We can lose our focus and allow the flame of our passion for Christ to burn low. We can get “busy” with all kinds of superficial things.

Advent is like an alarm clock that wakes us up and reminds us to pay attention to the coming of the day, to enjoy the music of God’s voice in our lives and the chatter from the streets below. For one day, the music will stop, the world will grow silent, and a new day will begin.

But take heart. Wake up your spirit to the truth of Christ. Stir up your heart to the love all around you and the beauty of this amazing world. Be a part of God’s symphonic, relational creation. And dance as though the music could stop at any moment, or go on forever.

We must be ready, “for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour” (v. 44).

Be ready to welcome the presence of Jesus.

Be ready to be a servant of God.

Be ready to live as we’re supposed to live.

Be ready to act in the interests of the kingdom.

Be ready to be faithful.

In other words, live as though Jesus has already come again.