Second Sunday of Advent
Sunday, December 10th, 2023
ISAIAH 40:1-11; PSALM 85:1-2, 8-13; 2 PETER 3:8-15A; MARK 1:1-8
the Lord is not slow about his promise … but is patient with you
Julian of Norwich, at some point in her young life, prayed for a number of things that would lead to sixteen visions, visions written down and collected in the Revelations of Divine Love.
One of the things she prayed for is difficult for many of us to imagine praying for: she prayed that she would be given a bodily sickness by God, a sickness that would be so severe that she would be sure in her mind that she was dying, “so that,” she writes, “she would receive all the rites of Holy Church, myself believing that I was to die, and that all who saw me might suppose the same.”
To understand why Julian might pray for such a thing might become clear when we look to what was happening in Norwich at the time. In Julian of Norwich’s lifetime, her city endured the Black Plague, a bubonic plague pandemic that was so severe that the population of Norwich was cut roughly in half. Survivors—the ones who contracted the plague but didn’t die—survived a disease that caused them a great deal of suffering and pain.
Now Julian herself gives some reasons for wanting to experience such a death without dying: she wants to be purged by God’s mercy; she wants to live afterward more to the glory of God. But as her visions continue, we discover that her own bodily suffering is connected to Christ’s own suffering. And so it’s not a stretch to imagine that part of what Julian desired was a hallowing of pain and death: that it was for her to learn, for the sake of those dying or in pain, that there is a way in which we can speak of pain and dying in terms of their holiness.
One of the visions that Julian is best known for is the vision of the hazelnut. In her vision, she is handed a hazelnut, a hazelnut that represents the whole of God’s creation. This is puzzling though to Julian, because the hazelnut is so small a thing as to be nearly nothing in the great scheme of things, so small that, for Julian, it could at any moment disintegrate into nothingness. Creation, like the hazelnut in its near-nothingness, is like this when it is compared to the greatness of God—almost nothing at all.
But even though creation itself is nearly nothing when compared to the greatness of God, creation endures, because even though creation is as close to nothing as is a hazelnut, creation endures because it is loved by God and cared for by God.
I mention Julian’s vision of the hazelnut because it brings us closer to the point I’d like to make about life, pain, and dying. Much like the difference between the smallness, the near-nothingness of God’s creation in comparison to almightiness of God—life, too, for Julian, is a small and nearly insignificant thing in comparison to the wonderful bliss we anticipate in life after death.
But even as Julian experienced a great deal of pain and suffering as she neared what she thought was death, she still wanted to live. And she wanted to live, as she puts it, “so as to have loved God better and for longer, in order that I might, through the grace of that living, have more knowledge and love of God[.]”
So as extraordinary as the bliss in heaven will be, life, for Julian, offers us time for something that is not offered in death: and that’s the opportunity to love God better and longer, and in order that we might grow in the knowledge and love of God.
What Julian has to say about the goodness of life—that to live means being given the opportunity to grow in the knowledge and love of God—what Julian has to say about living is very much in the spirit of what Peter has to say in his letter about what is good about waiting on God to make all things right in the world.
Peter is writing about that which we wait upon—we wait upon the Lord to break open the heavens and to descend, and to remake all things, and to make them well—to make well a cosmos that groans and waits upon the Lord, to make well a planet that lashes out against itself and us, to make well the nations that writhe and seethe with war, to make well our scarred and broken hearts. The Lord will come, and the Lord will come and bring a peace we can hardly imagine.
But why not yet? Why are we, and the creation with us, not yet set right in the ways that are promised? Much like Julian, who tells us that this life gives us opportunities to grow in the knowledge of love of God, opportunities we may not have in death—Peter tells us that God waits in patience in order to give us opportunities we won’t have when the trumpet sounds on the last day. Peter writes to say that if the heavens were to break open today, the opportunity given to us to repent would come to an end.
Instead, God is being patient with us, not wanting any to perish. You see, if we are still waiting, we can still repent and return to the Lord. Which makes the delay of judgment a kindness to those of us who have need of repentance; that is to say, the delay of judgment is a kindness to each one of us.
“[I]n accordance with his promise,” writes Peter, “we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home. Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace.” Much like life offers opportunities for us to grow in the knowledge of God and to love God more, so does life in this world offer opportunities for us to grow in repentance and peace.
It would be a shame if you left this morning in fear—in the fear that you haven’t done enough yet to enjoy the grace of God when the heavens are broken open and the Lord descends. That you left with a fear of judgment because you haven’t repented enough, leaving you wondering if you really are good enough to enjoy God’s grace. Because that’s not quite the point.
This is not about putting the fear of God in you, as though putting the fear of God’s judgment in you might finally get you to do what you need to please God enough that he would mark you as a sheep rather than a goat. This is not the point of what I’m trying to say, nor is it the point of Advent, nor is it, I hope, what Peter’s point is either.
This is not so much about putting the fear of God’s judgment in you, as much as it’s a reminder of God’s patience with us, of God’s kindness toward us, of what God offers to us as a gift. For Julian, to live is to be offered the gift that is growth in the knowledge and love of God. And Peter is speaking about a gift, too, the gift of time.
That even as we wait in hope and expectation, even as we wait for the fulfillment of God’s promise that all things will be made well, and even as we pray that our Lord might come soon already, to heal our divisions, to bring peace and justice to this raging world, we give thanks for the gift of a time that offers another opportunity, the opportunity to repent and return to the Lord—a repentance that takes its part, by his grace, in the healing of division, in the building of peace, and in the making of justice that offers a real foretaste of God’s own inbreaking kingdom.
The Revd Cannon Preston Parsons PhD
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.