Signs of Hope

David Orendorff · Luke 21:25-33 · December 3, 2006

A young child told me this joke and I feel called to tell it to you. It is a child’s joke so don’t look for hidden meanings or profound subtleties. He held up two dimes and said, “What am I holding?” I said, “Two dimes.” He said, “No, it is a "Pair-a-dimes". I asked him what it meant. He said that he didn’t know. So I said, "Paradigms are the pictures by which we organize the things we see, hear, touch, taste and smell. They are our mind maps that structure our experience and tell us what we to expect." He looked at me like I was a fool, like hadn’t gotten the joke at all and walked off.

But I think paradigms are important. All of our perceptions are made through paradigms that filter, organize and direct our lives. There are paradigms for beauty, wants, needs, hopes, and joy. There are paradigms for how we see our friends, work companions, lovers and children. There are paradigms for everything. And by those paradigms we live our lives. Most paradigms are very helpful by organizing and filtering our perceptions.

Joel Barker, in his video series on paradigms, shows the power of paradigms over how well we see the world with a simple pack of playing cards. Flashing the cards, the viewer is asked to identify what card is being shone. All goes well until suddenly there is a card that the viewer can’t quite name, though it looks familiar. When more time is given to see the card it turns out to be an eight of hearts, but the hearts are black and not red. A simple shift in the color paradigm for playing cards throws the mind into confusion.

One of the most basic of our paradigms, one that has saved our lives thousands of times, is our picture of what is threatening and what is safe. Our brains have even created circuitry that continually monitors the incoming information and scans it for any paradigmatic threat. This system is a part of the oldest piece of our brain, the reptilian brain, and is closely related with all the automatic functions of our body, like temperature and heart rate.

This monitoring system is so simple and so fast that when someone surprises us by yelling "boo" we react with a stiff shot of adrenalin, becoming hyper-vigilant with eyes wide open, tensed muscles and racing heart, perhaps even jumping back, before we are even aware that we have been frightened. 1 Daniel Goleman, Emotional Intelligence and Working with Emotional Intelligence, have great summaries of this system and its consequences for our lives.

In today’s scripture Jesus is calling for a paradigm shift in how his disciples see the world. With "preachers license" (I actually have one) I rewrite the scripture this way:

When something awful is happening, when you think it can’t get any worse and then does, when the very things you thought were forever seem ready to fail you, then watch, for God is near and about to help you.

It is like looking at a tree. To look at the tree in winter from a distance is to think, "That tree is dead." But when you look carefully and see the buds you know that the tree lives and in those buds you see that promise of summer to come.

So too, when its feels like winter in your soul, when the tree of your life looks dead, look closely at it and see the buds that though now still and inactive, promise that God is near and will soon be upon you.

Watch the trees and see their buds. At first I was thinking that tree buds came in the spring and that we would have to wait for spring to see signs of hope. That means winter can be very long with no signs of relief. But then I remembered that the buds come as the tree goes dormant in the fall. Even before winter begins the buds are formed, ready and patiently waiting for the right sunshine and warmth. When Spring comes the buds, which have which have been present and waiting all winter, become blossoms and we see the life that was always there.

Jesus wants his followers to shift a very fundamental paradigm of their lives. Instead of seeing suffering as the prelude to more suffering, he wants them to see suffering as if looking at trees and buds. Suffering has buds and promises the immediate presence of God. Suffering/buds are the signs of God being near. Instead of facing life always waiting for the next tragedy, Jesus would have us face life seeing the buds and waiting for spring blossom.

In the introduction to Small Miracles II, the authors say this:

Throughout our journey in life we encounter many teachers and signposts that lead us along our way. They whisper words of wisdom and encouragement to us as we struggle and yearn; they invite us into new spheres of Being and Existence. They let us know that in existential loneliness we are not alone - the Spirit surrounds us always.

Chief among these signposts and teachers is none other than the phenomenon that some choose to call coincidence, but that we - the authors - recognize and firmly believe are nothing more and nothing less than "small miracles." 2 Yitta Halberstam and Judith Leventhal, Small Miracles II, (Adams Media Corp., Holbrook, MA, 1998), v

The buds on the winter trees are the small miracles for which Jesus would have us watch; the signs that tell us divine help is near. Such signs and small miracles surround us daily if we will but have eyes to see and ears to hear. When we let the signs of love and life filter through our paradigms of fear, when we see the small miracles that engulf our lives, then there is always hope. Not false hope, but a real hope blossomed from the knowledge that God will make things fine. From Small Miracles II:

Rosemary Macri was eight months pregnant when the baby suddenly showed signs of heart distress. "Will my baby be all right?" she asked, as she lay in New York Hospital’s maternity ward, hooked up to machines she could barely comprehend. "We’ll do the best we can," responded the doctor. "But I have to be honest with you - there is only so much we can do."

A legion of doctors and nurses kept vigil over the fetus during the next twenty-four hours. But despite their efforts, the baby’s condition worsened. The doctors made a decision to induce labor. Shortly thereafter, Rosemary gave birth to a baby boy.

For what seemed like an eternity, Rosemary lay waiting for her child’s prognosis. She watched the nurses come and go from their stations. She heard the sound of technology and television. She smelled disinfectant. Finally, overcome with weariness and numb with shock, she fell into a deep sleep.

As Rosemary slept, the staff was very concerned about the poor prognosis of Rosemary’s newborn. They knew all too well the grave odds against the baby’s survival. They called in the priest. "The mother is fast asleep," the priest said, "and it is my belief that given the circumstances, the child should be baptized." Right there and then, the child was baptized.

All the while, Rosemary slumbered peacefully. In her dreams, a vision of her late Uncle Patrick appeared. "Don’t worry," the calming voice said, "Your child will be well. Everything will be fine." 3 ibid., 69-70

I thought about simply leaving you hanging on this one because the ending is not the important thing. But I know you want to know what happens without having to go buy the book.

But before I finish the story I make two observations. One; good old Uncle Patrick, came to Rosemary in a dream. Dreams are notoriously small and unreliable, but are often the source of incredible miracles. Two; good old calming Uncle Patrick - Rosemary must have been Irish - says, "Don’t worry, your child will be well. Everything will be fine." Notice that Patrick did not say, "Your baby will live until he is 84, or even that the baby would live at all." The small miracle is that no matter what happens, "everything will be fine."

Small miracles do not promise the outcome we most desire or even sometimes demand. After all, miracles, by definition, are events that are not in our control. The seeing of the buds, the small miracles, the paradigm shift to which Jesus calls us, are the coming of God in God’s way. Back to the story:

Just as the ad hoc baptism came to an end, Rosemary awoke from her deep state of slumber. The dream about her uncle, and the soothing words he had spoken, had made her feel comforted. But now her own heart froze with terror when she saw the priest. He must have known, for he spoke quickly. "My dear," he said, "hold on to hope because the situation has been so precarious, we baptized the baby. We named him Patrick."

She was just opening her mouth to speak to the priest, to tell him about her dream, when the doctors entered the room. The priest and Rosemary looked at them pleadingly. "Your son will be just fine."4 ibid., 70

Jesus would have us believe that no matter what happens "our son, our daughter, ourselves, will be just fine." It is a shift in paradigms to believe we are blessed and not cursed, loved and not hated, valuable to God and each other beyond our imaginations. It is a shift in paradigms to believe that when the sky is falling then God is coming. It is this shift by which our faith and our life hang.

Today we begin the season of Advent in the Christian year. You see all around you evergreens, the sign that even in the midst of winter there is greenness waiting to be. Advent is the season of waiting and watching for the God’s help to come to the world.

Many believed this help would come in a mighty warrior king like David of ancient Israel. But we know that God has a paradigm shift in store and that the help for which they watched comes in a baby, born to unwed parents, in a stable, in poverty, and with no apparent means to help himself, let alone the world.

No baby has changed the world like this baby. No holiday is as big as Christmas. It is celebrated every where. Even with all the abuse cynical humanity can heap upon it, with all its commercialization and all its depression, Christmas remains the great sign of God’s love, the bud on the tree of life, the testimony to God’s power for healing the world.

So for this season, shift your paradigm, and watch for the signs that say God is near with peace on earth. Amen and Shalom.