The day of the Lord -- more often and more near than we often imagine (from Sunday, Nov 27, 2022)

Reading: Matthew 24:36-44

The church has always understood the birth of Jesus as the incarnation of the Word of God, and as a sign and promise of God’s commitment to be with us in the life of the world. 

At the same time, Jesus often talks about the end of the world as we know it, and the necessity of being open and ready for the coming of a new world.  Especially near the end of their time with him, in the city of Jerusalem, the disciples often ask what this means, and when it will happen. 

In the reading today, Jesus and his disciples have spent the day in the temple in Jerusalem.  The disciples are admiring the magnificence of the temple, and Jesus tells them not to make too much of an idol of it.  A whole new world is coming, he says.  When they ask him when that will happen, he answers only by saying, “Be ready for it when it comes.”

Jesus says, “No one knows when that day and hour will come—neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son; the Father alone knows.

The coming of the Son of Man will be as it was in the time of Noah.  In the days before the flood people ate and drank, men and women married, up to the very day Noah went into the boat; yet they did not realize what was happening until the flood came and swept them all away.

That is how it will be when the Son of Man comes. Two men will be working in a field: one will be taken away, the other will be left behind. Two women will be at a mill grinding meal: one will be taken away, the other will be left behind.

Watch out, then, because you do not know what day your Lord will come. If the owner of a house would know the time when the thief will come, you can be sure that he would stay awake and not let the thief break into his house.  In like manner, you also must always be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you are not expecting him. 

 

Reflection: 

 

You just never know when the day of the Lord will come for you. 

 

She thought she was on a date – which she was.  

 

To watch a romantic movie – which it was.  “Truly, Madly, Deeply,” starring Juliet Stevenson and Alan Rickman.  With a man with whom she was hoping to deepen a relationship – which turned out not to be the point of the evening.

 

Instead, what stole her heart that night was a moment in the movie when through a window, the female lead saw a man happily, creatively and lovingly leading a small group of mentally challenged adults on some kind of outing through the city.  In the movie, this was the man whom Juliet Stevenson in the end fell in love with.  And in the heart of the woman watching the movie, he was a sudden image – as clear as day, of the kind of life she wanted to live, the kind of job she wanted to have, and the kind of person she was created to be in the world.  It was in many ways already “her” and was already what her life was kind of about in scattered and unconscious ways.  But at that moment, it became so clear and compelling that she knew it in more deeply than ever before.

 

 

In short order, she enrolled part-time in a program to get the professional credentials.  In the course of the program found herself in a job at a day-support program for multiply-disabled adults, and she then spent more than ten years there – living the dream of loving and caring for people who were all too often overlooked, devalued, and mistreated by much of the rest of the world.  Those ten-plus years were for her – and for the people she cared for, a taste of God’s kingdom come-true, and of God’s will being done on earth as in heaven.

 

You just never know when or how the day of the Lord will come for you.  When Jesus will appear in some guise – in some activity or opportunity of service to others in the world, and say, “This is the way.  This is the way for you; follow me.”  When the Spirit of God within you will stir to life in response to something, and you will just know deep down inside, that “Yes!  This is me.  This is what I’m here for – what I’ve been made for, at this moment in my life.”

 

This is not the way we always think about the day of the Lord, and the coming of the Son of Man.  Often we imagine it more apocalyptically – as a one-time, end-of-the-world kind of thing.  But is it not also a way of understanding what happens over and over again as a change-of-the-world-as-we-know-it kind of thing?

In today’s reading, Jesus speaks in the vocabulary of the day.  He uses the apocalyptic visions and images that fuel the faith of the people – including his disciples, so they can understand wat he’s trying to say about living in faithful openness to God, and to the presence and purpose of God in the life of the world. But does he himself also believe in just in a one-time, end-of-the-world kind of coming?  Or does he also understand – from his own life and experience, that the day of the Lord comes over and over again, every time we have a chance and a choice to enter a new way of living in the world?  Every time there is an opportunity to begin a new way of “doing life” and “doing world” with others around us?  Every time there’s a chance to be part of God’s will being done in some way where we are?  Of letting the kingdom of God be glimpsed in a real-life way at least for a while, in the ongoing life of the world?

Like when Jesus walks along the seashore, and calls a few fishermen to leave their nets and follow him.  Two do, and they call two others.  They are ready – somehow prepared and waiting for the messiah to appear, and for them to follow.  The others who they work with, though, are not.  And they are left behind.

As Jesus journeys around and through Galilee and on to Jerusalem, time after time at significant moments, and with potentially-life-transforming encounters he invites people to be healed, calls them to let go of the life and the things they idoliz, tells them to let of the anger, the prejudice and pride they think they are entitled to, invites them to move beyond the closedness and the exclusionary kinds of belief and practice that they think are needed to keep the world straight, and calls them to follow him in becoming a new kind of community in the world – to let life and the world around them be changed by the kingdom of God.  

And some do – they are ready and prepared – they don’t know what they are waiting for, but when it appears, they know it, and they let their hearts be stolen by it.  And others, do not; their defenses and their fear of the deep ways of God are still too strong.

Right up to the day and moment of his crucifixion, when Jesus is crucified between two thieves and according to one of the Gospel accounts, one is ready to go with him to life with God, and the other is not.  

It happens all the time.  The day of the Lord comes over, over and over again – even here in Winona or wherever we live, even here among us at Fifty.

It comes in the way some let themselves be opened to new levels of love of God and service of others, though involvement in things like City Kidz and Wesley Urban Ministries, Medical Ministries International, GBF, the Kinsmen, the Winona Men’s Club, the Quilt Club that meets in our own Upper Room, and so many other kinds of programs and activities that open the door for the love of God to come in to the life of the world.  

It comes in the midst of daily jobs and careers and relationships – when as a nurse, a teacher, office staff, or a cashier, you suddenly feel called – feel a little nudge inside, to reach out and relate to someone – a student, a patient, a colleague, a client, in a new and deeper way. 

And whether it’s a one-off thing, or the beginning of a new kind of relationship, it makes all the difference in the world.  Something is broken open, for them and for you.  

Sometimes it comes in the chance – and the choice, to change your job, your career, maybe even your most basic relationships.

It can even come in something as simple as two little kids in the new family next door, every time they see you coming in and out of your house, happily yelling out, “Hi, Bwian!” – a day-in, day-out greeting that like any good religious ritual, draws you out of yourself as you’ve been, and into deeper, more open connection with all the neighbourhood around you.  Like a thief in the night, it breaks in to what you thought your life was about, breaks open your heart that you thought was just fine as it was, and steals it away to be shared and made bigger than you ever thought it could be or needed to be.  

Advent is a good time to be thinking about these kinds of things.  Christmas is a season for giving, for being open, and – as much as we follow set patterns and traditional activities, for being surprised.  We have special services of worship here at church.  Projects of Christmas charity to reach out to people less fortunate than us.  Family gatherings and traditions.  Special things that each of us looks forward to, for our own private and personal enjoyment.

And I wonder … not if, but which of these things this year will be for any of us – for you, or for me, the day of the Lord, the coming of the Son of Man into our lives as we know them, and the chance to let our hearts and ourselves be stolen away to a new depth of loving God, and loving others around us.  

We can’t know ahead of time when or what it will be.  But, Jesus says, be prepared for its coming.  So you’ll know it, and be ready for it, to let your heart be stolen by it, when it comes.

Preparing for Christmas -- 40 days? (actually, is that enough time for what we REALLY need to do?) -- sermon from Nov 20, 2022

Reading: Luke 1:67-80

 

In the Gospel stories of Jesus, Jesus does not show up as messiah out of nowhere, unannounced, and all by himself.  At least one person – John the Baptizer, helps pave the way for him.  John is a well-known preacher who preaches to the people of a messiah who is coming to save them.  And when Jesus shows up, John points to Jesus as the one to follow.

 

 

John was a distant relative to Jesus, born just a few months before him.  He was the son of Zechariah – an old priest, and his wife Elizabeth – a distant cousin of Jesus’ mother, Mary. 

Like Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus, Elizabeth’s with John was quite miraculous. From the beginning, there was something special about him, and when he was born, his father was able to say what it was. 

[When the baby was born to his wife Elizabeth,] the Holy Spirit came upon Zechariah, and he began to speak:

 

Praise the Lord, the God of Israel!

He has come to save his people.

Our God has given us a mighty Saviour ...

as God promised to our ancestors,

to save us from our enemies.

 

God promised to show kindness to our people,

and to keep his sacred promise ... to rescue us from our enemies,

so we will be able to serve him without fear,

and live our lives freely and fully 

in the way of love for all, that he teaches us.

 

And you, my son, will be called the prophet of God Most High.

You will go ahead of the Lord to get everything ready for him.

You will tell his people that they can be saved

through the forgiveness of their sins and the healing of their lives.

 

God's love and kindness will shine upon us

like the light of the dawning sun that rises in the morning sky.

On us who live in the dark shadow of death

this light will shine to guide us into a life of peace.

 

Reflection:  Preparing for Christmas

 

Are we starting too early?

 

 

The traditionalist in me tells to wait until the fourth Sunday before Christmas – which in the Roman Christian tradition is the first Sunday of Advent.

 

By starting Advent early, are we just buying into the over-commercialization of Christmas?  You know, I hated it when I went out the afternoon of Hallowe’en to get a little extra candy for the trick-or-treaters, and found first at Shoppers and then at Fortinos that the seasonal shelves had already been emptied of Hallowe’en, and Christmas stuff – chocolates and santas and panatones and other Christmas goodies were already in their place.  The decorations were up.  The Christmas muzak had even started. 

 

I hated it.  I really was upset about how pressured I was already feeling to start spending, and to keep spending for two months, to excess.

 

If that’s all that Christmas is about – about gifts, special treats of chocolate and nuts and Christmas bread and cake, trees and decorations, four weeks is surely enough time, especially with Sunday shopping.  In fact, with online shopping and next-day free delivery, probably two weeks is enough.

 

Sometimes, even just one day can do it.  In my first marriage with Meg, while we were living in Vineland, one year we were so short of money that after buying a few Christmas gifts for family back in Winnipeg and sending them off in time, we agreed not to buy one another gifts that year.  The decision made sense – until the morning of Christmas Eve, when we looked at each over breakfast, knew what we both were thinking, and that afternoon drove to the Pen Centre in St Catharines, to make separate tours of the mall, each of us to buy one thing – just one thing, for the other.  And it was enough.  It was good.  It was one of the good stories of the marriage we had.

 

For some aspects of Christmas, four weeks can be enough.

 

But if Christmas is also about preparing ourselves – and letting ourselves be prepared to receive God, to kneel at the manger, to let our hearts go out to the Christ-child, and let our lives be given once again to him and his desire to live in us, is four weeks of Sundays honestly enough?

 

In the Celtic tradition – an often-overlooked, but always a good alternative to the Roman, the first day of Advent is actually November 16 – a full forty days before Christmas.  That was last Wednesday already. 

 

Among the Celts, it’s often said that the door to the stable where Jesus is born is very low, and only those who kneel can gain access.  They’re very clear about Christmas being not just about letters, cards, presents and dinners, but also about repentance, humbling and a thorough interior “housecleaning.”  They let John the Baptist have his say through Advent, warning us to prepare a way for the Lord, to make a clear and level pathway, to remove any boulders that stand in the way, and fill in the potholes that developed over the past year.  The boulders are things we have done, that we ought not to have; the potholes are things we ought to have done, and did not.

 

And so the 40 days before Christmas, before gathering again at the manger in Bethlehem, becomes a time of spiritual preparation, repentance, and conversion of life similar to the 40 days of Lent before Easter.

 

And when I think of it – think of boulders and potholes in my life, it makes sense to take this time before Christmas to make a more clear and level path, to humble myself enough to really be at the manger, and to clean up my soul and my life to make good room there once again for Christ to have a place.

 

I think of fear and anxiety that I feel, as so many do these days, about so many things, that can paralyze me, that make me feel more despairing than hopeful, that keep me – or give me an excuse not to be as engaged as I could be in the world and how it’s going.

 

I think of resentments that I carry against a variety of people in my life, that turn into dislike, criticism, and distance.

 

I think of hurts I have suffered, and hurts I have caused, that make some relationships testy, a bit like a minefield, if not downright impossible.

 

I think of regret – even guilt about past mistakes and shortcomings, and how self-loathing can easily dominate my attention, and keep me from just confessing, making amends, being forgiven, knowing I am loved, and getting on with loving in return.

 

I think of ways I’ve become so familiar with images and faces of poverty, homelessness and loneliness, that I become blasé about it, too accepting of it as a norm of human society.  I think of ways I turn my back, shrug my shoulders, close my eyes.

 

I think of how easy it is to externalize the issues – to focus on things being someone else’s fault, and someone else’s responsibility to fix, and not to focus on what my role may ebe.  How easily and how often I withdraw from doing what I could be doing for the well-being of others.

 

And the list goes on.  Not a shopping list, but a list of things to attend to, to open up to God, and to let be cleaned up within me, if I really am to gather at the manger with others, and be ready to welcome the life of Christ within me for one more year.

 

So, we light the candle to start the Advent journey of spiritual preparation.  Yes, it’s an extra candle beyond what we normally used to do.  But maybe it’s a necessary candle for what we need to do.

 

And, I’m intrigued that we’ve called it the Candle of Gratitude.

 

I wonder if gratitude is the medicine we need, to make a good start. 

 

If maybe gratitude for all that God has given, and still gives, and always will give for the well-being of the world, is part of the antidote we need to answer our fears and anxieties, and inspire us to hopeful and generous action and engagement.

 

If maybe gratitude for the ways we are loved by God and by others – forgiven, understood, cared for, and tolerated, is a medicine to help ease the resentments we feel and the distances we create.

 

If gratitude for the life we have been given, and the blessings we enjoy is part of the medicine we need to open up again to the Spirit of God that’s made incarnate at Christmas, and that desires to be alive and known in us?

 

If gratitude is maybe what helps clear the way – what helps take away the boulders and fill in the potholes that stand in the way of our being ready to welcome Jesus, the Christ born in Bethlehem, come to be alive, known, at work, and present in the world in us – in our actions, in our words, in our relationships, and in all the ways we spend our lives.I