I’d like to read you an extract from “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis.

“Now they were steadily racing on again. Edmund noticed that the snow which splashed against them as they rushed through it was much wetter than it had been the night before. And the sledge was not running nearly as well as it had been running up till now. At first he thought this was because the reindeer were tired, but soon he saw that that couldn’t be the real reason. The sledge jerked, and skidded and kept on jolting as if it had struck against stones. There also seemed to be a curious noise all round them, but the noise of their driving and jolting prevented Edmund from hearing what it was, until suddenly the sledge stuck so fast that it wouldn’t go on at all. When that happened there was a moment’s silence. And in that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly. A strange, sweet, rustling, chattering noise – and yet not so strange, for he’d heard it before. It was the noise of running water. All round them though out of sight, there were streams, chattering, murmuring, bubbling, splashing and even (in the distance) roaring; much nearer there was a drip-drip-drip from the branches of all the trees. And his heart gave a great leap when he realised that the frost was over”.

I’m sure we’ve all looked out of the window on a snowy day and noticed drips starting to drop from the icicles: it’s a sure but subtle sign that, even though it’s still cold, warmer weather is on the way. Equally, we may have been in the countryside at dawn and noticed a faint tinge to the sky on the eastern horizon: a sign, this time, that sunrise isn’t far off. And, of course, there are other signs, both human and natural, which give warning of events that will soon take place: the barometer falling as a storm draws near, birds circling as they prepare to fly south for the winter, a patch of oil on our drive beneath our car, that tickle in our throat and clamminess on our forehead which tells us that we’re sickening for a cold, the police car on “blues and twos” in the opposite carriageway warning of the approach of a VIP convoy or a lorry with a wide load, rats appearing on the deck of a leaking ship, even – shockingly – the tide suddenly going out at a beach because a devastating tsunami is gathering momentum out in the ocean. Observant people see these signs and take appropriate action. Most folk never notice them.

I suspect that Jesus and the people of his day were better at noticing signs in the natural world than we are. They had to be, at a time when there were no such things as weather forecasts or statistical analysis or computer-generated predictions: like most people throughout history, their expectations of the future must have been gained from experience and from sayings such as the Palestinian versions of “red sky at night, shepherds’ delight” and “ne’er cast a clout till May be out”. Of course, they didn’t have the scientific knowledge we possess which means that their interpretations were sometimes very wrong: for instance they would see a comet appearing in the sky and believed that it was a sign from God, whereas we know that it is nothing of the kind. Nevertheless they knew some reliable signs which could be used to predict the future.

Jesus certainly told his followers to look out for signs of future events; the big problem is that we’re not quite sure what events he was talking about! Was it the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in AD70 which marked the end of Israel as a separate nation? That’s definitely possible as he’s clearly hinting that some of his hearers will witness the scenes he is describing. However Jesus does seem to be looking to events which are much more cataclysmic, on a far larger scale, ultimately more final: the agonies which will precede his return in glory, the end of the world as we know it and the inauguration of God’s longed-for kingdom. And he encourages the disciples to look for signs of all this beginning to happen – just as new growth on trees foretells the coming of summer.

Of course people of every age tend to look at what’s happening in the world and say, “Things have never been as bad as this before, I’m sure that we’re in the End Times and Jesus is coming soon”. That was certainly true in the early 5^th century as Rome fell to the Visigoths and its Empire, that bastion of stability, started to collapse. It was the case, too, when the Black Death rampaged across Europe in the 1300s: theologians of the day interpreted this as the opening of the sixth of Revelation’s Seven Seals, a sure sign of Christ’s imminent return. Both the French Revolution of 1789 and the Russian one of 1917, in which forces of secular disorder seemed to have succeeded in overthrowing the Church and its beliefs, were regarded as definite signs of the Last Days; while those of you who were around in the 60s and 70s may recall how some Christians were convinced that the Common Market (as it was then called) was a fulfilment of the prophecy of the 10-horned beast mentioned in both Revelation and Daniel – a belief which collapsed as membership of the European Community grew well beyond ten countries.

But, having said all that, we mustn’t dismiss or forget Jesus’ exhortation to look for the signs of the times. And, despite all the signs of doom and disaster which we can see around us, the very real threats posed by the pandemic and climate change, we should also look to see signs of hope. Perhaps we shouldn’t be looking for signs of short-term hope, although we are all encouraged by the success of the Covid vaccines (although the discovery of the new South African variant is disturbing), we may feel that there is real promise in the development of green technologies, we are glad for the new focus on the treatment of women and people who lie outside the sexual mainstream. But, remembering that it’s hard for Governments to make long-term commitments because they can only realistically think about their current terms of office, we need to look further into the future than just the next few years. As people of faith, we are tenacious visionaries who have learned to speak about hope in the long-term; in fact that’s the only way to avoid devastating disappointment. This season of Advent gives us a chance to rekindle our hope and reimagine the world as just, righteous, forgiven and renewed; a goal which will be achieved not by human endeavour but by Christ.

The people who first heard Jesus’ words about the “End Times” couldn’t have gone away feeling positive; they would surely have felt overwhelmed, exhausted or terrified. We may have been feeling the same, especially after all that has happened over the last two years. Yet we Christians possess a precious gift which we can offer to the world, a gift which can counteract despair: it is the gift of light in the darkness, of sunshine after cloud, of calm after a storm, of relief after desperation, of joy after sadness and grief. The gift which Jesus gives us to pass on is, of course, hope; let us look hard for green shoots of life or pale glimmers of dawn and say, “Look! There is a new world ahead; God’s promise may not be near but it is sure”.