Advent Sunday                                   The Rev'd David C. Cobb

Romans 13:8-14                                  Litany & Solemn High Mass

Matthew 24:37-44                                December 2, 2007

                 

About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels nor the Son, but only the Father.

They did not know, until the flood came and swept them all away.

 

When Jesus calls our attention to the flood, he bypasses the charming procession of animals- dearly loved of children's book illustrations. He avoids the salacious and refuses to speculate on what devious and pervasive sin might have called forth such cosmic judgment.   There's a simple, though heartbreaking perspective he wants us to see—they didn't know.  The normal patterns of life – eating and drinking, establishing households—the sort of things humans do by necessity and out of delight.  They were just unaware of the impending crisis, and so its arrival caught them off guard.  In Luke's account of this teaching, Jesus even continues on to Sodom and Gomorrah —and again, there it is the very ordinariness of life—the same eating and drinking, marrying, along with commerce- that occupies the doomed inhabitants.  No matter how our dark imaginations might want to paint that story—Jesus wants us to see this one thing—they did not know. 

 

And then there is what we don't need to know, or at least can not know.  The amount of speculation that has been poured forth into determining the time table of the end is amazing.  History is littered with movements built around a predicted final day that came and went.  And it is either a tribute to the persistence of the human spirit – or the dim-wittedness of the mortal mind—that people still will read bits or pieces of scripture, compare the unrelated and collate the contradictory and announce, with confidence that they know that even the Son does not know. 

 

There is a great deal that we can not know.  Whatever angels or the Incarnate Word might know—the events to unfold this afternoon—tomorrow, next month—are a mix of the likely and predictable and the unknown.  And in one passage, Jesus insists that we let go of what we can not know—and never loose our focus on what we can.

 

He warns us not to pry into time tables for the end—and we might add to that a reluctance to over-interpret events and actions.  If the end is in God's hands, I can not hold you—or even myself responsible for more than is realistic.  The end of the world will not be my fault, nor yours either.  And, at the same time, because I know that there is a future—a judgment- I know that I am accountable for my actions, my words, and my negligence. 

 

That is perhaps the heart of the Gospel as it speaks to the end.  You and I live with a future before us.  It is easy to see that when you hold an infant in your arm- but it is no less true when we hold the hand one living out the end of  long and full life.  We are given a life that extends beyond the limits of this life and that opens to God's future, where what is partial and incomplete will find fulfillment, where judgment will bring clarity and grace will bring forgiveness and teach us to forgive. 

 

And the future, like this moment is not a private thing, but a life born, developed and perfected in community.  You and I are responsible for how we live together.  Its hard to hear this gospel outside the worst pop-theology and even worst pulp fiction—of the left behind series, two will be in the field, two will be grinding meal—one will be taken—step back though, and its hard to know—is being taken good?  We are talking about floods and a thief in this passage- maybe remaining is the point.  At any rate—our future in God does not necessarily run in tandem- one taken and one left.  Is Jesus really encouraging us to feel some smug safety—certain that we're on the right side of being taken or left, and too bad for the other?  Or is there some sense here in which we are to work together in the field, at the mill-  or wherever in such a way that our futures both open towards God's promise?  Its worth asking the question when we're working next to someone—neither can be blamed for “the end”, but we can live together in such a way that hope—and love, and even faith is possible now and at the end. 

 

If Jesus is wants to us think about the end in terms of attention and watchfulness, Paul pushes in a bit different direction. 

 

Owe no one anything .  That's a future devoutly to be desired—student loans—mortgage, credit card debt—wouldn't it be good to “owe no one anything”.  I'll leave the economics of it aside, with just the throw away warning to watch for the seductive call to use consumer debt to create some fantasy Christmas—better, indeed to owe no one anything.  But, take Paul's exhortation and expand it out—we can live so that we are not sucking down the resources – natural or otherwise –that should nurture those who follow us.  We work for a society—a nation—that uses its wealth, strength, and convictions for the good of others. Owe no one anything.  Paul insists that we live with the future in our hearts- alert to what we we take, consume, hold and use—that might, in God's justice, be someone else's hope, not our extravagance. 

 

And if that is not challenge enough, Paul pushes past owing nothing- to this great and universal debt-  Owe no one anything except to love one another .  “There,” he says, “that one commandment fulfills and completes the law”—but he does not lay it on us as a burden from the past.  There are lots of rules we carry in our minds from all sorts of authorities—but they all seem to operate backwards—I've told you not to do this-  so remember.  Paul pushes this commandment towards the future—owe no one anything—because this future that God has promised is unfolding even now—the night is far spent, the day is at hand.  Act like it were already day.

 

Isaiah imagines a world where swords and improvised explosive devises become agricultural equipment—where people look at each other without suspicion, when we aren't marks to be conned, or dupes to be used, authorities to be played, when we really see in each other and in ourselves the full dignity of human nature.  That's what day light is like in God's kingdom—it is people and creation both being put to their right purposes—so that God is glorified and life flourishes. 

 

There is a world of future hidden from us.  Some of it we're better off not knowing, some of it is fun to leave hidden—you really don't want to open the packages before Christmas morning—and some of it depends on choices that haven't even been considered.  I suppose even the angels don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow- and God's ultimate disposition of creation- of me and my neighbor—there indeed honest humility is better than vain speculation.  Not even the angels or the Son of Man knows.   

 

But there are things I need to know—that you must know- -before the future- or God's judgment sweeps over us like a flood.  There is a future—where we will face our life in its fullness—and that includes its effects no others.  There is a future with God that leads us into deeper knowledge, more faithful service and more honest worship—or we are left, taken or stumble into something far less. 

 

We need to pay attention- -to live alert and watchful—so that we do not build up debt and burden others or take what is another's.  We need to know that God is building a future that is different from this war torn and hate weary world.  In the midst of our eating and drinking, our marrying and giving in marriage—our commerce and study, our play and our boredom—in the midst of the most ordinary—this future leans into our life now.  Ordinary and distracted, busy and caught in patterns we didn't establish and can't entirely break—still a new day dawns—or a flood rises- or judgment waits, and tools are about to be refashioned.  The point is this—your life opens to God's future—and the presence of Christ—in this eucharist—in the word spoken and heard, in the needs of the least among us- the presence of Christ explodes the future into the present—and for those who have eyes and courage to welcome it—that is good news  That is what we need to know, that is what we need to live.