“Maybe today.”

He stood at the window and watched the morning sun climb over the mountain. He lowered his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sunlight shining against the streets and buildings. It was a bright and beautiful morning, but all he felt was darkness. It was the same darkness he had felt last night as he tried to sleep. It was the same darkness he felt every day now, the same one that they all felt every day now.

He raised his eyes to the window again. “Maybe today,” he said.

He stepped from his house to go to work. Along his way, he was very careful to be aware of his surroundings. Every day, he heard the stories of what had happened to others; some from his own neighborhood. The fortunate ones had been stopped by one of the official security groups who had forced them to show some proof of who they were and where they were going. Some of them had been ordered to carry things for the groups, give them their coat, shoes, or in some other way demonstrate their loyalty to the country and its leaders. But there were laws that controlled the actions of the official security groups, so while the experience was frightening and frustrating, it was something that could be endured until God finally put an end to it.

The less fortunate ones had been stopped by one of the unofficial groups who were patrolling the city. These groups did not have or care about laws that might control their behavior. Some of the neighbors who had been stopped by these groups were put into wagons and carried away. Some were questioned and beaten, and then let go to warn others of what they faced.

Some were carried away to simply disappear. 

Even in the brightness of the morning sunlight, the streets were a place of darkness.

And sometimes, the darkness came inside. As he walked, he remembered the stories he had heard about how the security groups had sometimes forced their way into people’s homes. Maybe someone had accused them of disloyalty, or perhaps they had been overheard saying something that was considered disloyal. And that led to doorways being broken-down in the middle of the night, and someone being carried away for investigation, or worse.

“Maybe today,” he said. 

He turned the corner and saw the sunlight shining on the great, golden columns of the temple. It was a sight that used to give him a feeling of pride and great hope. But now, the people controlling the temple were working with those who sent the security groups into the streets. As he turned away from the view of the temple and entered his office, all he felt was disappointment.

“Maybe today,” he said.

For many, life in the first century was living in darkness. Things that had once given comfort and hope, like the Jerusalem temple, now just hurt to look at and think about. The community of neighbors that had meant so much to them was now a place of division and suspicion. Even their faith community was broken, divided by frustration and anger, and the temple was a place where those who openly spoke of God acting to overcome oppression did that at the risk of being reported to one of the security groups.

Even family, the core of everything that had meaning for them, was being ripped apart.

The people in first-century Jerusalem awoke each day knowing they were under the control of a people who did not like them, who did not trust them, who did not believe those under their control had the right to be who they believed they were. They were under the control of people who believed that their own beliefs and lives were the only ones of value, and those under their control must be forced to obey, whatever it took.

The Roman empire was an efficient ruler. When a new land was conquered, a local governor was assigned to maintain order and bring that land into compliance with the rest of the empire. If the governor wanted to keep his job, the one thing he had to do was make sure there was never any act of resistance that would be reported back to Rome. So the primary goal was to do whatever needed to be done to keep the people from resisting. Whatever was needed. The governor had his forces, well-trained centurions who knew how to follow orders and do what needed to be done to intimidate and subdue any resistance.

If the conquered land had a government or key religion, Rome did not demand that those things be stopped; just that they offered no resistance to the Roman leadership. In fact, Rome was more than willing to partner with existing political and religious leaders, offering grand incentives to those leaders who were willing to do so. That is why the temple still shone in the morning sunlight. The leaders of the temple were allowed to continue their religious activities on two key conditions. First, they did nothing that might disrupt the peaceful obedience to Roman rule. And second, the temple leaders paid the empire a percentage of whatever money they brought in.

The other community and religious leaders were offered the same conditions. Groups like the Pharisees and Sadducees would be allowed to maintain their roles as leaders and pillars of the community, and to keep their wealth, so long as they did not encourage any disruption against the government themselves or stop anyone who tried. Those who had once been responsible for interpreting and teaching the faith to serve God had now become responsible for interpreting and teaching that faith to serve the government.

Rome was also very good at finding and using the unofficial and usually radical groups that existed behind the scenes in every land. These groups were offered the recognition they all sought, in return for doing whatever they might do to instill fear in the people and put a quick end to any resistance against Rome that might arise.

Rome had its direct methods of reminding the community of their powerlessness against the empire. A Roman centurion could stop any citizen on the street and force them to carry their things for them, or force them to give them their coat, their shoes, or anything else.

However harsh Rome may have been, there were still laws that limited just how far a centurion could go in their intimidation. That was not the case for the unofficial security groups. They could do whatever they wanted to do, so long as they did those things in ways that did not lead to a meaningful resistance from anyone.

In the past, when the nation was threatened, the people looked to the temple and the priests for God’s guidance. They looked to their leaders and teachers to hear what the scriptures directed them to do. Today, all they could find to give them the hope they sought were the old words of prophets like Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Joel — words saying that one day, God would fulfill the promises made and come with the mighty armies of heaven and destroy those who oppress God’s people. One day, the sky will break open, the oppressors will be swept from the temple, from the streets, from the entire land, and the people will once again be free to be God’s own people as they were meant to be.

One day.

Maybe today.

Maybe today, God will act. Maybe today, we will see the Son of Man come on that cloud with power and glory and drive these enemies out of our land. Maybe today, God will send the heavenly armies and put an end to this darkness.

Maybe today.

Maybe today, after Jesus stood in the temple, right in front of everyone, and said that this very generation will not pass away until these things have happened. After all of this waiting, maybe it would be today.

So, we wait.

Advent is a season of waiting for God to act. The day will come, God will act. Evil always loses in the end. So, we wait. The important question is, how do we wait? Some say march. Some say fight. Some say pray. What are we supposed to do while we wait for God to act?

Jesus said that what we need to do is be careful. But be careful of what? Jesus said we need to be careful that, when the evil is finally destroyed, we may still be able to stand before God. Be careful that, whatever we might do, we do not become a partner with the evil.

The danger of waiting for God to send some heavenly armies is that we buy into the idea of seeking vengeance. The great “so there!” It would be natural for us to feel that… perfectly justifiable to feel that… if we were not God’s children. Vengeance is not ours to take, no matter how loudly it screams for us to claim it.

The greatest threat of evil, the greatest threat of the darkness we sometimes live in, is not that something might happen to us. The greatest threat we face is that we throw away the light we believe in and become just another creature of the dark.

We are not called to sit back, accept evil, and do nothing. We are called to do something far more difficult. We are called to remember who we are. We are called to remember who we are supposed to be — to remember to not allow anyone or anything to pull us into doing things only the evil ones would do. We are called to hold onto our love for our neighbor, even when it would be so easy to hate that neighbor. We are called to love our neighbor, even when that neighbor forgets about God, and sees us as anything other than a neighbor. We are told to tend and feed God’s sheep.

There is simply no room in the human heart for both good and evil. The two cannot co-exist. We either love as God asks us to love, or we do not love. One is a heart of light, the other is a heart of darkness. Our greatest risk is to allow hatred a place in our heart.

Maybe today.

But if not today, we know with absolute certainty that this evil will come to a crashing and absolute end. Our greatest challenge as God’s people is to see that we do not forget who we are, that we may avoid becoming the very thing that has created this darkness in the first place.

It may be the hardest thing we will ever do. But we know that one day, God will bring about change. And when that day comes, we will again look out the window at the morning light and feel the brightness inside. Amen.