As a kid, I couldn’t wait for Christmas. I ached for it to arrive.
Growing up in Southern California, we didn’t get snow like we do where I live now in Bend, Oregon. But in early December, we did get a weather change that marked the approach of Christmas. We got fog. (And yes, it did make me think of Rudolph.) When I couldn’t see the stop sign at the end of my street, I knew the time was getting short. School would be in recess and Christmas would follow close behind.
This year, what I find myself waiting for most of all is a vaccine for the COVID-19 coronavirus. And it’s not just me who is waiting, the whole world is waiting.
People are dying. The world is in upheaval. There is an insidious sickness which can’t be seen but which undermines absolutely everything in our lives. It’s a mess and it seems to be getting worse despite people trying to deny its existence. But there is a beacon of hope: There are reports of a vaccine that can cure it, but it’s still a way off. When it comes, though, we all know we shall be saved.
Put it that way and the vaccine sounds a lot Jesus, doesn’t it? Jesus, the savior of a truly sick world.
During the years before and after Jesus was born, the Jewish people were tense with expectation. They longed for the coming of the Messiah, the coming king of Israel and all the world, who would erase the people’s sins (idolatry, lack of care for the poor, loss of mission to the nations, and racism). Jewish mothers gave their sons names like Judas (named after the miraculously successful freedom fighter Judas Maccabeus) or Saul (named after the first king of Israel) or James (which is really Jacob, the patriarch whom God renamed Israel), and Jesus (which is variation of the name Joshua, the hero who led God’s people into the promised land). All of these names and more were freighted with meaning during this time of struggle and hope. The people were waiting for their Messiah; the air was thick with it and they were doing everything they could to make the it happen. (It’s why they tried to make Jesus their king when he fed 5,000.)
The earliest Christians felt similarly. Like people waiting for a vaccine today and the Jewish people waiting for the Messiah, the early Christians longed dearly for the return of Jesus.
The gospels are filled with that anticipation as are most of the letters Paul and Peter and John and others wrote to encourage, equip, and correct Christian communities as they waited for the Great Day when Jesus would return in glory.
There are just a few Aramaic words used in the New Testament which was written in Greek. The reason why these few words are retained is because of their significance to the early Christians since they were originally used by Jesus himself or the apostles. Included among them are the way Jesus referred to his Father: Abba. There’s his cry from the cross: Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me!”). There are the words Jesus said when he raised a little girl from the dead: Talitha koum (Little girl, get up!). And then, right at the very end of the Bible, we get another one: Maranatha (Our Lord, come!).
Maranatha obviously didn’t come from the mouth of Jesus like the other Aramaic phrases. Its significance then must have arisen from its use by the apostles. It must have been used early on (since it’s not in Greek, the language of most Christians by the end of the first century) and it must have been used frequently. I imagine it being used in a prayer by one of the apostles early on in such a fervent way that it was repeated by all who were praying with him. I imagine too that it became a regularly repeated mini prayer during gathered worship and in individual prayer as people faced persecution and other trials. It seems to mix a desire for the coming of Jesus both as a much-needed rescuer and as a glorious king.
All this to say: As I view myself, I find that I long for a Covid vaccine with more hope and expectation than I do for the return of Jesus. And that is completely upside-down. A vaccine is needed, but it’s a temporary fix for one problem in a world filled with many problems. It doesn’t fix climate change or child abuse or sex slavery or opioid addiction or systemic racism or obesity or any of a hundred other things things wrong with the world.
Only the return of Jesus ends death and wipes away every tear. Only the return of Jesus ushers in the one government that is truly just. Only the return of Jesus finishes the hard work of healing and justice and reconciliation that we work at so hard but with only middling results. Only the return of Jesus makes beauty from ashes. Only the return of Jesus ends our wandering and makes us truly at home. Only the return of Jesus enables us to “know as we are known.” It’s all a form of homelessness and brokenness and looking through a glass dimly as we wander these shadowlands.
This world is a place of beauty and truth and goodness. But only sometimes. As Switchfoot put it, it’s a “beautiful letdown.” All our hopes here let us down.
But as we enter Advent, we are reminded that there is something out there that completes everything. It’s Jesus and his return.
In the meantime, we live in the “already and not yet.” We already are saved but are awaiting the fullness of our salvation. We already have the Spirit but await the full experience of God’s personal presence. We already know Jesus but not face-to-face. We live in the kingdom of God, but it is full of rebels (including me at times).
It’s good to wait hopefully for a vaccine. But it’s far more important, as Jesus urged us, to remain awake and attentive as we wait for him to come. For he alone is the goal and fulfillment of all we truly hope for.
Maranatha!