Lectionary Commentaries for December 1, 2024
First Sunday of Advent

As Advent begins, beloved images and icons of Christmastime start to appear—like peaceful nativity scenes with docile donkeys and sheep. Much in contrast, the Advent 1 Gospel reading highlights cosmic catastrophe, apocalyptic urgency, and warnings of peril to come. With a kickoff like this, it is no wonder some might be happy to skip Advent for a Hallmark Christmas. 

Luke 21:25–36 poses challenges to preaching, due to its cosmic scope, cryptic references, and eschatological urgency. But its message is one of hope. Amid a world filled with chaos and a future marked by uncertainty, Luke’s Jesus reminds hearers: “Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (verse 28). 

A day of redemption

Luke 21:25–36 concludes a longer discourse centered on things to come (Luke 21:5–36; see also Mark 13:1–37; Matthew 24:1–36). While earlier sections focus on persecution, witness, and Jerusalem’s destruction (verses 12–24), the text at hand features the coming of the Son of Man followed by appeals to readiness. 

Luke 21:25–28 borrows language from the prophets to portray the Son of Man’s arrival as a day that culminates God’s ancient purposes (Isaiah 5:30; 8:22; Ezekiel 32:7–8; Joel 2:10). Many of the images are associated with “the Day of the Lord,” a time when God decisively intervenes to redeem God’s people (Isaiah 13:4–13; Joel 2:28–32). 

Throughout Luke, Jesus identifies himself with the Son of Man, a title with various associations (a human being, a prophetic figure, a divine figure). The quotation from Daniel (Luke 21:27)—paired with imagery of the Son of Man arriving “in the clouds” (see also Isaiah 19:1; Psalm 18:2–3)—depicts the return of Jesus as a theophany (divine revelation), and his arrival as a day of reckoning and salvation. 

In short, this event will turn all earthly norms on their heads and secure ultimate redemption for the faithful. 

The rhetorical goal: Encouragement

The next portion (Luke 21:29–36) shifts from prophetic discourse to pastoral encouragement. It begins with a parable about a fig tree, which Luke expands (“and all the trees,” verses 29–33). Just as their new growth signifies summer’s arrival, so do “these things” signify the arrival of God’s kingdom. The parable’s simplicity suggests that one does not need secret biblical knowledge or complicated calculations to discern the arrival of the end. 

The next portion of encouragement (verses 34–36) calls for alertness and prayer. The language is fierce in places (“catch you … like a trap,” “face of the whole earth,” “strength to escape”). But the rhetorical point is clear—“Be alert at all times” (verse 36)—so that hearers may embrace this day of salvation in confident trust.

What of “this generation will not pass away”? (verse 32)

This verse is a sticking point for many—and there is no scholarly consensus on making best sense of it. Interpreters propose a host of identifications for “this generation”: Luke’s first hearers, the Jewish people, the human race, those exposed to the signs (verses 25–26), those of any time who refuse—or acknowledge—God’s purpose, to name some forerunning suggestions. Some interpreters further differentiate references to the arrival of the Son of Man (verses 25–28) and of the kingdom of God (verses 29–31). The time that has passed since Jesus’ day suggests “this generation” may encompass hearers and readers today, even if only indirectly. 

In the end, the nature of eschatological discourse implies that such language is more hyperbolic than literal, aimed not at a clear chronological timetable as much as encouraging vigilance. Jesus’ words call all hearers and readers, in Luke’s day and in ours, to faithfulness in the present, not to confident assertions of when the end will happen. 

The relative significance of eschatological thinking

Eschatological (end-time thinking) discourse is a polarizing thing. On the one hand, Christians have used texts like this to make specific end-time predictions based on spurious connections to today—none of which have (so far) proven true. On the other hand, in reaction to these predictions and the challenges of eschatological imagery, others have practically rejected all promises of end-time events, deeming them a product of ancient mythological thinking. In the words of a former church secretary of mine, “Do we still really believe that anymore?”

Much of this stems from hearing eschatological imagery in scripture wrongly. Its aim is not to predict the future as much as it is to offer a word of hope to encourage faithfulness in the present. Jesus does promise a day when the Son of Man will arrive, a just reckoning will happen, and the faithful will see redemption—and these words of promise will not pass away. But this promise calls not for strategic predicting as much as for realizing that our faith is not in vain. 

In view of this, Advent rightly focuses neither simply on Jesus’ future return nor on his arrival at Christmas, but also on his arrival today in daily life and faith. It does not take the end of all things or December 25 for someone to encounter Jesus in a profound way. And that encounter is worth looking for and embracing now.

A word of hope

The gist of Luke 21:25–36 is a message of profound hope—one that is sorely needed today. 

Our world is riddled with uncertainty, injustice, conflict, indifference, pain, judgment, and condemnation of anyone who thinks differently. However chaotic and uncertain our world is, Jesus promises a day when his return will bring about lasting salvation, justice, redemption, and healing. This changes everything. A sure future hope inspires faith here and now. And that means more than can be conveyed by even the finest nativity scenes and Christmas cards. 

The arrival of Jesus among us—whenever and however it happens—is a word of profound hope. We rightly focus on its significance throughout Advent. 

In all three years of the Revised Common Lectionary, the first readings for the first three Sundays of Advent are taken from the Prophets. In year A, we read from First Isaiah, and in year B from Second and Third Isaiah. In year C, we encounter Jeremiah, Malachi (or Baruch, in traditions that preach from the Apocrypha), Zephaniah, and Micah. This season is thus a fruitful time for preachers to reflect deeply on their understandings of the prophetic books and the ethical implications of their proclamation. 

The Christian church has a long history of reading the Prophets as having predicted the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This interpretive framework is evident not only in the New Testament and the early church, but also in the beloved hymns and beautiful artwork that accompany our Advent journey today. In our practices, we are explicitly and implicitly encouraged to hear the prophets’ stirring words as ancient promises that were only fulfilled in the unfolding of the Christian story. And yet, by reading the Prophets as pointing only to Jesus, what—and whom—do we ignore? 

In the first of the four Old Testament lections for Advent C that promise the coming of a saving figure, Jeremiah 33:14–16 envisions the rise of a leader from the line of David (evoked in year A by Isaiah 7 and in year B by 2 Samuel 7:1–11, 16). He is called a Branch, echoing the imagery of Isaiah 11:1–16. The triple repetition of the word “righteous/righteousness” (in Hebrew, tzedek) underscores Jeremiah’s claim that in the future, both this leader and the redeemed city will model justice. In these verses, hope abounds. 

Yet, the small size of this lection downplays the radical claims of Jeremiah’s larger message. The dominant theme of the book is judgment. Chapter after chapter lobs scathing criticism at Jerusalem and its leaders, insistent that God is orchestrating the fall of the city to the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar as punishment for its sins. Any attempt to resist the Babylonian onslaught is defined as rebellion against divine judgment: “If any nation or kingdom will not serve this king, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and put its neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, then I will punish that nation with the sword, with famine, and with pestilence, says the LORD, until I have completed its destruction by his hand” (Jeremiah 27:8).

Jeremiah 33:14–16 appears in a small section of the book devoted to hope, the so-called Book of Consolation in chapters 30–33. But even in this chapter, judgment is the grounding for hope. Verse 5 reiterates God’s accusations and divine responsibility for the Babylonian destruction, suggesting that only after the people have faced the consequences of their failures to love God and neighbor will an alternative future be possible.

By focusing solely on the hopeful message of this Advent reading, Christian preachers run the risk of (even if inadvertently) promoting anti-Jewish readings of the Bible, in which judgment is for “them” (ancient Israelites or modern Jews), while future hope is the exclusive inheritance of those who believe in Jesus. Preachers also miss the opportunity to help congregations acknowledge the lack of righteousness in their own settings, the need to judge systems and traditions that deny justice. What in our own society deserves critique and change before we can expect a hopeful future? 

This hope for a just society is also underscored by the ways in which this passage reframes earlier verses in the book. Jeremiah 23:5–6 promises that the coming Davidic king will be called “The LORD is our righteousness”; here, in Jeremiah 33:16, Judah and Jerusalem instead receive that name. While both passages evoke the promise made to David in 2 Samuel 7, our text for Advent focuses not on the leader himself but on the purpose of his coming: the creation of a more just society. In this way, it invites us to expand our preaching this season beyond the simple theme that Jesus’ coming was predicted, and instead to challenge us toward becoming a more righteous people. 

For further reading

Levine, Amy-Jill and Marc Zvi Brettler. The Bible with and without Jesus: How Jews and Christians Read the Same Stories Differently. New York: HarperOne, 2020. 

 O’Connor, Kathleen. Jeremiah: Pain and Promise. Philadelphia: Fortress,  2011.

For many contemporary Christians, the first Sunday of Advent will continue thoughts of Thanksgiving celebrations and excitement looking forward to a happy Christmas. The season of Advent, however, is a time of preparation for the birth of Christ in Christmas. It is a time of telling the truth about our world and our needs as part of the context in which we welcome the Christ Child. It is thus fitting that the texts for this Sunday include a prayer of need, yearning, and hope such as Psalm 25:1–10. 

Literary form

Psalm 25 is one of the alphabetic acrostic poems in the Psalter: Psalms 9–10, 25, 34, 37, 111, 112, 119, and 145. Each verse of the psalm begins with the successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It is a means of poetic composition ancient Israel’s scribes enjoyed and an aid for the audience in remembering the poem. The poetic form also suggests that the psalm communicates a holistic view of its subject, from A to Z or alef to tav.  

Psalm 25 provides a model for prayer at the beginning of Advent. Verses 1–3 speak of need and petition with address of YHWH in the imperative mode, as is characteristic of lament psalms. The opening verses consistently confess and seek divine forgiveness. Verses 4–10 carry more of a teaching tone in reflection on faith akin to the Wisdom Literature. These verses instruct the community on the consistent fidelity of YHWH. That instruction continues in verses 11–16. The conclusion of the psalm returns to petition.  

Themes for proclamation

The prayer articulates a variety of vocabulary and themes that are worthy of reflection for the preacher.  

• The speaker is in dire straits but also professes confidence in the covenant God who delivers. The speaker confidently “waits” (verses 3 and 5) on the God who hears and comes to deliver. This theological theme of the identity of YHWH as the God who makes and keeps covenant is a major trajectory of faith in the Older Testament.  
• The basis for this powerful hope is the hesed or “persistent love” of YHWH (verses 6, 7, 10). In verse 6 the term is paired with “mercy” and in verse 10 with “faithfulness.” This “persistent love” along with the terms for “mercy” and “faithfulness” form a stunning and profound vocabulary at the center of God’s deep commitment to ancient Israel. The community often lived under the cloud of trouble, but these profound covenantal promises made hope and abundant life possible for them. This text presents this vocabulary in the prayer of an individual in the ancient community.  
• The speaker in Psalm 25 is in turn committed to YHWH and YHWH’s covenant with the people of ancient Israel, including the covenant commandments. Verse 10 indicates that the divine good is for those who keep covenant. The speaker looks forward to the blessings of life encountered in covenant faithfulness. The speaker is a covenant keeper.  
• The speaker in Psalm 25 confesses faith in YHWH, but also confesses sin in verses 7–8.  Confession of both faith and sin forms something of a balance in the psalm. It is at least clear that awareness of sin does not eliminate the hope of commitment to YHWH. The confession in this psalm is one of honesty and integrity. The lectionary text consists of verses 1–10, but it is worth noting that verses 11 and 18 also confess sin and guilt. God’s persistent fidelity provides the context for confession of sin and guilt.  
• The psalm articulates a complicated relationship with YHWH, including faithfulness, need, and transgression in the relationship. Human faithfulness and need as well as human failure become motivations for YHWH to intervene to bring hope. Wholeness of life and hope are part of YHWH’s relationship with people of faith. YHWH is the one who in grace restores relationships in the face of sin. The divine-human relationship is never one-dimensional.  
• The divine-human relationship in the Older Testament is often expressed in terms of covenant, a relationship initiated by God and participated in by the community. A hallmark of the covenant relationship is candor in the context of this complicated and life-determining relationship. This psalm is a petition to the covenant God, and the relationship with God is both central to the petition and a motivation for hopeful divine intervention.   
• God’s faithfulness transcends the human realities of faith and transgression. The psalm clearly voices the human condition, but that condition in no way compromises God’s faithfulness or the reality of the character of the covenant God to deliver and guide.    

Theological summary

Psalm 25 is a paradigm of prayer as part of the covenant faith in YHWH. The text clearly articulates human need, hope, and candid relationship with the covenant God who hears petitions in times of trouble. It also proclaims divine mercy toward believers. God is the one who hears and comes to deliver, the basis of the covenant relationship in the theology of the Old Testament. Divine fidelity and human need mark covenant faith and create the need for a candid petition such as Psalm 25. 

YHWH’s fidelity is an overflowing mercy. The psalm ends with a final petition for all of Israel amid its troubles. The speaker’s faith in its particularity and the need the psalm expresses lead to the community and “all its troubles.” The individual psalm and petition stand for the whole community and its need. God’s covenant faithfulness embraces the need and hope of persons of faith and communities of faith. 

Final reflection

Advent is a time for telling the truth rather than embracing the false hope of all the militant consumerism and the tinsel covering our days in this season. Psalm 25 embraces, in this prayer of yearning, the human need in the depths of our lives. The psalm also professes profound and life-changing faith in the persistent fidelity of God and opts for hope. The New Testament passages for the First Sunday in Advent characteristically trumpet apocalyptic themes and can bring puzzlement and concern to readers/hearers. Psalm 25 prays in language that confesses the darkness in our world and our lives, but the ongoing faithfulness of YHWH makes hope possible for the already and the not-yet.  

Starting this Sunday, many churches will feature Advent candles. The traditional understanding of the significance of these candles is that in this season of waiting, the candles help the church focus on hope, peace, joy, and love. Each candle represents an essential disposition of faith. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians may be the source of this ritual. Not that Paul talked about Advent candles, of course. Yet, this letter focuses strongly on Christ’s “Parousia” at the same time as emphasizing the vital centrality of hope, peace, joy, and love. In 1 Thessalonians, Christ’s second advent and the cardinal states of hope, peace, joy, and love are intrinsically related.

Those who know this letter know that it evidences an overriding interest in Christ’s Parousia. The letter starts with Paul’s definition of the consequence of the Thessalonians’ faith—they are those who wait for God’s Son from heaven (1:10). Paul speaks regularly about the coming of the Lord Jesus (for example, 2:19; 3:13). The apostle responds to the Thessalonians’ concern about whether those who have already died will miss out on Christ’s second advent (4:13–5:2).

At the same time, 1 Thessalonians emphasizes faith, hope, and love (1:3), and also peace and joy. Paul speaks of the Thessalonian believers as the cause of his hope for himself and his coworkers as they await Christ’s return (2:10). He is convinced that at that return they will be saved—the hope of salvation (5:8; see also 1:10). Paul calls God the God of peace (5:23) and exhorts his converts to be at peace among themselves (5:13). Such peace is the cause and result of God’s salvation through Jesus Christ. 

The apostle declares that his joy and that of his coworkers is due to the goodness of the Thessalonians’ lives (3:9), which goodness will be manifest at the return of the Lord (2:19–20). The quality of this joy is seen in its flourishing even in the midst of affliction (1:6).  

It is, however, love on which Paul dwells. He expresses in remarkably touching ways just how beloved the Thessalonians are. He reminds them of the love evidenced by him and his co-missionaries on his first visit: they were like a nursing mother with her children (2:7). While giving them the gospel of God, Paul and his companions gave the Thessalonians their very selves (2:8).

Several times in the letter Paul acknowledges how loving his converts are and declares that they have been taught this by God (4:9). This community characteristic is something he wants them to build on and nurture (4:10). It is what defines them as children of the day and so as those destined to be saved (5:8).

Hope, peace, joy, and love are organically connected since they are dependent one on another: there is no hope without peace, or without joy and love; there is no peace without hope, or without joy and love; there is no joy without hope, or without peace and love; and there is no love without hope, peace, and joy. Yet, here as elsewhere, Paul emphasizes the fundamental nature of love. As he says in 1 Corinthians 13:13, love is the greatest. This is perhaps why Paul directly connects lives of love to the coming of Christ in our passage (3:12). Lives of love produce “blamelessness in holiness” (3:13)—that is, the right state to be in at Christ’s Parousia.  

The Thessalonians seem to have no doubt but that the One in whom they fully believe (1:5) will return, most probably very soon. One of the primary reasons Paul writes this letter is precisely because his converts are convinced of Christ’s imminent coming (see especially 4:13–5:2). Their concern about Christ’s Parousia and Paul’s in this regard diverge, however. The Thessalonians are focused on logistical matters, such as what will happen to those who have already died (4:13). Paul writes not only to clarify these matters—those who have died will not be left out at the Parousia—but also to refocus the Thessalonians’ attention on what is most critical about Christ’s return.  

Paul wants the Thessalonians, as he says in our passage, to direct their attention to increasing and abounding in love for each other and for all (3:12). Since Paul’s goal for his beloved converts is that they should be “blameless in holiness” when the Lord returns, he underscores that such a blessed state is dependent on the quantity and quality of their love. The most important thing is not when Christ will return or matters such as the fate of believers who have already died. The most essential thing about Christ’s second advent is that believers be in the optimum condition to meet Christ.

This is not to say Paul thinks the Thessalonians should be anxious about whether they will be saved when Christ returns. Far from it. He assures them that their salvation is sure: “God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (5:9). At the outset of the letter he declares that they are waiting for the return of God’s Son, who is their deliverer from the wrath that is coming (1:10).

Rather, what Paul wants these believers to recognize is that God’s desire for those he has chosen (1: 4) is that they take on God’s character. The  point of the Thessalonians’ faith exceeds their salvation from the coming wrath. The gift of their faith is fundamentally and primarily that they become holy as God is holy. This astonishing grace is from God and is manifest in lives of love both for fellow believers and for all.  

Paul draws attention to the truth that lives of love are not the result of believers’ independent willpower. Though such lives involve the hard work of love (see 1:3), such is enabled by the Lord. In fact, it is God who has taught them to love each other (4:9). It is the Lord (understanding “lord” in context [3:11] to refer to Jesus; see also 1 Corinthians 8:6) who makes their love increase and abound (3:12). It is the Lord who confirms the hearts of the Thessalonians blameless in holiness (3:12).  

Believers participate with God in God’s project of allowing them to share God’s character—holiness. The will of God is that believers be holy (4:3, 7). Paul details some aspects of holiness (4:3–6; 5:12–22), but in our passage emphasizes that love is the chief and most essential. As Paul’s words in 3:12–13 make plain, holiness is the definition of love, and love is the definition of holiness.  

In light of Christ’s coming, the children of the day are to focus on doing more of the same—loving each other and all.