Breaking Silence

Matthew 24:36-44, Romans 13:11-14

The Rev. Sara Fischer

There is a tradition in many protestant churches of assigning each of the four Sundays of Advent a particular significance, with meaning attached to each Advent candle. The first Advent candle, the one Heidi lit this morning, stands for hope. The second Advent candle stands for peace; the third joy, and the fourth love. Some churches have a little liturgy around the lighting of the candle that includes prayers about each of these. That is lovely. But we don’t find this in the scriptures assigned for each Sunday in Advent, nor do we find them anywhere in the prayer book. The readings and music for this season are so powerful I do not want to add anything to them.

Recently I came across a different way of thinking about the four Sundays of Advent. In the Middle Ages it was traditional to consider the “quattor novissima” (the Four Last Things) on the four Sundays of Advent: death, judgment, heaven, and hell. Heaven is simply mysterious. But these other dreary themes may not be an easy sell today, but they represent at least part of what Jesus and the prophets proclaim about the end times. And if we are honest, we might feel that it is easier, some Advent Sundays, some years, to find death, judgment, and hell than it is to find hope, peace, joy, and love. 

As Anglicans, we are a both/and people. The Advent themes we dig into at this time of year encompass all of this: the end of the world as we know it, the promise of the inbreaking of something new through the incarnation of God made flesh, and all of the love and terror that goes along with that. Death, hope, judgment, peace, joy, heaven, hell, and love. 

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This Sunday the Episcopal church asks us to observe Break the Silence Sunday to both name and reflect upon the prevalence of domestic violence in the world around us. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, one in four women and one in nine men in the US experience intimate partner violence in their lifetimes. This means that in every congregation there are people who have endured—or are enduring—this suffering, in silence. And I don’t want to let it go without saying that these statistics are much higher for homeless people. 

Today’s gospel and today’s reading from Romans urge us to keep alert, to stay awake, to be prepared. To be vigilant as we wait for the inbreaking of the reign of God. This is a spiritual challenge for many of us, to live always in the expectant hope that God is coming, and that God is good. For people living with domestic violence, being “on guard” is not a spiritual exercise, it is a constant state of fear and survival. Again, this is especially but not exclusively true for women living on the streets. 

For the rest of us, we are called to wake from sleep as Paul writes in the letter to the Romans, not only to prepare for Christ’s coming, but to see and respond to the hidden suffering around us. Our calling as Christians is to bring light to places of hidden pain, and to embody God’s promise of safety and love. 

Sometimes what this looks like is simply praying for eyes to see and ears to listen, that we might be the person with whom another person might choose to break their own silence.

We must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. The Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour and so is the opportunity to break silence, to bring light into darkness. Our Baptismal Covenant asks if we will strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. When we answer “I will, with God’s help,” we pledge to stand with survivors, to listen to them, to believe them, and to create a world where no one must live in fear within their own home. 

We are not going to solve this overnight or on our own strength. What we can do is pay attention. Stay awake. This is what God always asks of us, especially in this season of watching and waiting, waiting to celebrate new birth while anticipating the transformation of the world in Jesus. Our hope lies in this anticipation.  Our hope is also to be found in our own showing up, week after week, to pray together, to break bread together, and to listen and learn from one another. As we move, over these next few weeks toward the mystery of the Word becoming flesh and moving among us, let us pray to always be awake to God’s calling and to God’s promise.