Christmas Eve

God's Gift to an Eccentric World

For no particular reason this year I took more interest in the winter solstice than usual. Even though I have a pretty strong science background, I have always found astronomy confusing and complicated. I was reminded of that as a rambled from link to link on the internet reading about the technical aspects of the solstice.

 Did you know that the day of the winter solstice was neither the latest sunrise nor the earliest sunset, but it was the shortest day of the year? Or that the four seasons of the year are not of equal length?

And to top it off, the earth’s orbit around the sun is eccentric!

Actually, I already knew that eccentricity is a technical term used in astronomy, although the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit is not something I ponder often. When astronomers say that the earth’s orbit is eccentric, they mean it is elliptical, not a perfect circle around the sun. Eccentricity describes deviation from perfection. At least in terms of orbits. Eccentric means not perfect.

When we describe people as eccentric we usually mean a bit off center, don’t we? Although I think it is usually said with endearment. Interestingly, the word was used in astronomy long before it was applied to odd uncles.

Putting aside unusual relatives, let’s stay with the technical definition of orbital eccentricity. Not perfect. The earth’s orbit is not perfect.

And when I think about something so basic, so fundamental to life on earth, being eccentric, or not perfect, it leads me to reflect that imperfection is unavoidable. It is inevitable. It’s fundamental, pervasive. The very planet we are riding through space traces an imperfect course.

Metaphorically speaking are there any perfect circles in our lives? I don’t think so. Eccentricity is everywhere. We live in a world off center, full of eccentricity, rampant with imperfection.

We live in a world where…
Our path around the sun is imperfect.
Our civic lives as nation and state are imperfect.
Our relationships are imperfect.
Our efforts to promote justice are imperfect.
Our attempts to create good are imperfect.
Our faith is imperfect.

In Jesus’ birth, God chose to be a part of this world. To join himself to it. God entered fully into this eccentric, imperfect world. Many babies are described as “perfect.” (I think every grandbaby is described as perfect!) But there was only one who truly was. A perfect baby born into a world where nothing is perfect.

That perfect child whom we welcome this night offers us many, many things in our imperfect lives, our eccentric world. I want to mention one. Although we describe God as perfect, the word perfect doesn’t occur terribly often in Scripture or the Prayer Book. It’s there, off and on, in a variety of contexts, usually referring to something God is or offers.

This passage is from Isaiah (26:3): As it is translated within a worship service from the Prayer Book: O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you. This is the King James translation: Thou wilt keep [them] in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace. For those whose mind is stayed on God, perfect peace. Perfect. Peace.

One of God’s gift’s to us in the birth of this perfect child. The coming of Jesus doesn’t fix the imperfections of our lives or our world, but Jesus brings God’s own perfect peace into our world. So that we may know and experience and cling to peace, perfect peace, in the very midst of turmoil and discord, struggle and failure. Perfect peace. Thou wilt keep them in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace is born for us this night.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 22

St. Thomas and Advent

The two great figures of Advent are Mary and John the Baptist. Hopefully, it is obvious why these two are important in the Advent season. They both have historic links to the stories of Jesus’ coming into the world and the beginning of his public ministry. They were both expectant. And during Advent Mary and John the Baptist serve as models for us of expectancy.

But there is another figure who lurks in the background of Advent. He ended up in Advent apparently by accident. And he may not be as important to the Advent message as Mary or John the Baptist, but he is a nice addition. Thomas, the Apostle, often known as “Doubting Thomas.” Obviously, he is not directly linked to the Advent stories, the historical stories that tell of Jesus’ birth or the prophetic announcement of Jesus’ ministry. We don’t have a clue where Thomas was or what he was up to in the days that preceded Jesus’ birth. If he was an approximate contemporary of Jesus, he would have been a toddler or not yet born. We know nothing about his early life. His role in Jesus’ story, like ours, is as a disciple. Thomas, like us, was a disciple, a follower of Jesus.

But the feast day of St. Thomas the Apostle in the church calendar is December 21, which is, of course, always during Advent. We celebrate St. Thomas every year during Advent, just four days before Christmas. As best I can tell there is no particular rationale for St. Thomas having landed on December 21. Evidently when he was formally added to the Roman calendar in the 9th century, he just ended up on December 21. In 1969 the Roman Catholic Church moved him to July 3 so he wouldn’t muddy the waters of Advent.

But far from being a distraction in Advent, I think Advent is a particularly opportune time to remember Thomas. We commemorated Thomas in Evening Prayer before Monday’s vestry meeting and again this past week at the Wednesday Eucharist. But yesterday, Saturday the 21st, was his day.

As you may know, yesterday was also the winter solstice. Yesterday was the shortest day of the year. (Although today is only 2 seconds longer.) Actually, the solstice is determined by the position of the sun in the sky. In the northern hemisphere yesterday the sun was at its lowest above the horizon, the farthest from its high summer zenith. Yesterday was the darkest day of the year.

Not a bad time to remember someone who wanted to see more clearly.

You know the story of Thomas. He makes a few appearances in the Gospels, but is best known for his role in two of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. The first took place the day of Jesus’ resurrection. Jesus had been crucified and the disciples were gathered together in a locked room, frightened and confused. Thomas was not with them. The resurrected Christ appeared among them and spoke peace to them. In their excitement they told Thomas what he had missed. And he said: Until I see and I touch, I will not believe.

A week later the disciples, including Thomas, were again gathered and Jesus came among them. And Thomas saw; and Thomas touched. And Thomas proclaimed, “My Lord and my God.”

In our Episcopal calendar of saints in Lesser Feasts and Fasts and is successor Holy Women, Holy Men, these words conclude the description of Thomas: “Thomas’ honest questioning and doubt, and Jesus’ assuring response to him, have given many modern Christians courage to persist in faith, even when they are still doubting and questioning.” Thomas’ honest questioning and doubt and Jesus’ reassurance give modern Christians courage to persist in faith even when we are still doubting and questioning.

Persist in faith. Even when it is dark. When the sun does not seem to shine at all. Even when we can’t see anything clearly. Even while doubting and questioning. Persist in faith.

It saddens and frustrates me when people say things like… “I’m not coming to church because I’m struggling with my faith.” “I can’t say the prayers because I’m not sure I believe them.” Or they have given up because their faith isn’t perfect or as full as they think it should be. Or they don’t participate in the life of faith because their faith or their God isn’t meeting their expectations.

Remember Thomas.

Probably the greatest stressor of this season before Christmas is high expectations and high hopes. The expectation that family relationships will be at their best. The expectation that our homes will look their best. The expectation that the whole tree tradition will be all that it ever has been and more. The expectation each of us has to be able to give those we love whatever will bring them happiness. The expectation that we will know the joy and peace of Christmas.

These high expectations stress the heartiest of us. And those people who, for whatever reason, feel they cannot fulfill these expectations may slide towards despair.

I wonder if we all don’t also have particularly high expectations of our faith at this time of year. What could be simpler, purer, more wondrous than the birth of the Christ child? Surely as Christians, we should feel and know that wondrous gift of the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. Surely our faith should be full and rich this time of year.

Except maybe it isn’t.

So four days before Christmas. On a day that is often the shortest and darkest day of the year, we have Thomas.

Thomas, an example and an inspiration to persist in faith. What does it actually mean to “persist in faith?” For Thomas it meant coming back the next Sunday to be with his fellow disciples. He could have given up, gone back home. But Thomas stayed with the other disciples. Persist in faith.

The most important thing to do to persist in faith is to keep hanging out with other disciples. Keep hanging out with other disciples.  Persist in the life of the faith community. Continue to meet and pray and share coffee and stories with other disciples. Keep listening to God’s word. Persist in faith. Even in the midst of questions and doubt… (Maybe especially when you have questions and doubts…) Even when your faith isn’t meeting your hopes or expectations, persist in the life of faith. Hang out with other disciples and keep doing what disciples do… Like Thomas, persist in faith.

The Third Sunday of Advent - December 15

Against the Data
Isaiah 35:1-10
Matthew 11:2-11

One of the primary qualities of Advent is preparation. This season is given to us as a span of time during which we can prepare. Preparation. We are preparing, of course, to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

But what sort of preparation does that entail? We are preparing not just for the birth of a baby. Nor are we preparing just for the Christmas celebration. Although those celebrations, both here in church and elsewhere certainly require a lot of preparation.

Something I read this week suggested that we are preparing ourselves to think about things in new ways, to experience new things.

We are preparing for the incarnation, the coming of God in flesh into our world. We are preparing ourselves to welcome the presence and power of God as a tangible reality in our lives. If you step back a bit, that’s really an unbelievable, unimaginable event.

So one way to think about Advent is as a time during which we prepare ourselves to accept the impossible, to welcome the unimaginable. It is a time when we try to break open the rigid and limited expectations we have of our lives and of our world so that we can accept the impossible reality of the incarnation.

As you may know, the folks to whom Jesus came in first century Palestine were expecting a very different Messiah. They had been preparing for centuries for the coming of the Messiah, and they knew what that Messiah would be like, a great leader who would restore their people as a great nation. Jesus was not what they expected. Hence John’s puzzlement in today’s Gospel. They thought they knew exactly who was coming. But Jesus didn’t fit. Emmanuel? God incarnate? In their midst? The Son of God whom they could touch and see? A human being who brought the very grace and power of God to their tables and their byways? That was not even on their radar. It was not only beyond expectation, it was beyond imagination. Unbelievable. Impossible.

We have the advantage of knowing that the event that lies ahead is unbelievable. So how do we prepare? One way might be to read today’s passage from Isaiah over and over and over.

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom. Glorious and impossible. The eyes of the blind shall be opened. The eyes of the literally blind and the metaphorically blind shall be opened. Those who adamantly choose not to see shall have their eyes opened. That just doesn’t happen. The ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Then the lame shall leap like a deer. Not just walk or shuffle through the day, but leap. And the tongues of the speechless sing for joy. Those who cannot speak and those who choose the isolation of silence shall know and sing joy. It’s unimaginable.

For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. The arid wilderness, a place where people and animals find only death, shall produce streams. The thirsty ground, parched and longing for water, shall become a spring, a source of water. A wilderness, a place of desolation and death shall be transformed into a creative and life-giving place.

This passage from Isaiah is rich and beautiful poetry. One article I read said parenthetically that Stephen Spielberg could provide great special effects to go with it. And that’s how we view these images isn’t it? As either beautiful poetry or something impossible that could only be portrayed with special effects. But not real.

This quotation comes to me second hand, but the great Old Testament scholar Walter Bruggemann has written: “Israel’s doxologies are characteristically against the data.” This passage from Isaiah is one of Israel’s doxologies. It is a hymn of praise from God’s people Israel. “Israel’s doxologies are characteristically against the data.” God’s people experience and praise God “against the data.”

 The commentator who quotes Bruggemann goes on to speak to a contemporary audience (paraphrasing and expanding upon Barbara Lundblad’s comments at Working Preacher) : We see and hear the data of our own world every night on the news and every morning on the front page of the paper. Add to that the data of our own lives: waiting for the test results from the doctor, mourning the death of a loved one, wondering if we’ll make it through the next round of lay-offs. We know the data of our lives and the world around us all too well and we, too, long for a doxology that is against the data.

Jesus’ incarnation is not just a doxology that is against the data; it is an event that is against the data. It was against all expectation or possibility back then. And it really still is. God in human being? It’s still against the data.

And with the incarnation of God in the world comes the transformation of the wilderness of our lives and our worlds into creative and life-giving places. The impossible, the unimaginable made real.

Advent is a span of time given to us to try to wedge open the rigid and limited expectations of our lives and our world so that, when it comes, we can welcome and accept the impossible, the unimaginable, birth of God with us.

The First Sunday of Advent - December 1

Because of Advent, I Know What I Am Waiting For

Just a catch phrase from a reflection by Episcopal priest Suzanne Guthrie published in the Christian Century caught my attention this week as I was looking forward to the First Sunday of Advent.

She noted that when she was growing up her mother and grandmother really went over the top with Christmas presents. But, and here I quote: “But because of Advent, the messages in the little doors of the calendar and the hymns that we sang, I knew this was not what I was waiting for.” Because of Advent, I knew the Christmas presents were not what I was waiting for.

When I carefully read the full reflection I discovered she is actually a strict Advent purist—absolutely nothing Christmas until Christmas Eve—and there’s a lot to be said for that position.

But when I first read just the snippet from her reflection, my own reflections went down a different path. The presents are OK. At least up to a point, the Christmas hype is OK, as long as we have Advent to tell us what we are really waiting for. It is popular for preachers this time of year to decry the commercialism and secularization of Christmas and so on and so on. But I’m not doing that. (It’s a losing battle!) I’m not sure that’s the main problem. Maybe the more significant problem is the absence of Advent. In the midst of Christmas preparations we need Advent to remind us what we are really waiting for.

Advent gives meaning to Christmas. “Because of Advent,” Guthrie wrote, “I knew what I was waiting for.”

As you know, Christmas is already “out there.” Christmas is in the malls and on the radio stations. The neighbors have their lights up. Christmas is all over the place, “out there,” outside these church walls. “In here” Advent is just beginning. And that separation is a problem. Advent should not be confined within the walls of the church. Let’s take Advent “out there.” We need Advent out there to tell us what we are really waiting for.

 So my message is really very simple. Observe Advent. And observe it in the same places you celebrate Christmas. Observe Advent in your living room, in the byways of your daily lives. I’m not sure how to take Advent to the malls, but if we are living it and observing it and praying it in our lives, we will carry it with us where ever we go. Let’s take Advent to the streets. We need to observe Advent in the same places we observe Christmas.

 Excessive materialism should always be a problem for Christians, not just at Christmas time. But giving and hoping for Christmas presents is not inherently unchristian. And, as I have said before, I decorate and put up my tree before Christmas Eve. Just DO Advent as well.

There are lots of ways to do Advent. The Advent wreath is my favorite. Make an Advent wreath for your home. Pray the Advent collect, read a passage from Scripture as you light the candles week by week. Each week the light of the wreath grows, reminding us that the Light of Christ is coming into the world. Advent teaches us what we are waiting for.

Advent calendars are good. Especially the old fashioned ones that feature the prophecies foretelling the birth of the Christ child, leading us day by day towards the reality of the incarnation. Advent shows us what we are waiting for.

A crèche, or nativity scene, at home is also good. Just remember, it is not just a holiday decoration. Don’t put Jesus in the manger until Christmas Eve! And the wise men don’t arrive on the scene until Epiphany. Have them start their journey as far away in the house as possible. The crèche tells the story. It tells the story of the wondrous divine birth at Christmas. And the story of the long and treacherous journey may of us make to come to the side of our savior. Advent tells the story of what we are waiting for.

I’ve made a list of a few online resources that provide ways to keep Advent in your lives. I particularly commend the daily reflections offered by the Cowley fathers, the Episcopal monks of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist. We also have available pamphlets from Living Compass with daily Advent reflections.

Advent is not just something that happens in church. Advent teaches us what we are waiting for. Make Advent a part of your daily lives and take it out into the world.

Suzanne Guthrie concludes her reflection with these words:

 I can’t help but wonder if part of the spiritual hunger of our time links somehow to a lack of respect for the season of longing, deep change and dark anticipation. Without Advent, without the soul’s journey in tandem with Mary and Joseph, will I even notice the Divine interrupting my ordinary life? How will I discern that gentle star rising upon the horizon obscured by premature holiday glitter? If I do not enter deeply into Advent, how shallow will my transformative journey be toward Galilee, Jerusalem, the cross, the empty tomb, Emmaus and “the ends of the earth”?

Thanksgiving

Grateful For How God Made Me

I’m seeing “30 days of thanks,” “30 days of thanksgiving” everywhere this year. They are programs encouraging people to identify one thing they are thankful for every day over the course of 30 days. It seems everyone is doing “30 days of thanksgiving.” At least everyone on Facebook…

But we don’t need computer games, of course, to prod us to count our blessings. This season invites thankfulness, encourages us to count our blessings, to be grateful. Gratitude is a very good thing. And certainly each one of us has way more than 30 things to be grateful for.

Some of you may remember that last year I created a scheme with five stages of thanksgiving. Gratitude was stage two, one up from clueless entitlement. Stage three was donor appreciation— being grateful that someone has given us what we have. Stages four and five involve us making a response. Expressing our thanksgiving to the donor and finally sharing with others what we’ve been given.

But back to gratitude. These 30 day projects are good. We need to count our blessings. It occurs to me that we probably cycle through stages 2 through 5 over and over again. But we need to start with gratitude.

Reading what people have posted on Facebook, it’s mostly what you’d expect. People are thankful for family, the beauty of nature, freedom, friendship, the Thanksgiving feast or a favorite food. We all have much to be grateful for. I want to take that sort of list and stretch it just a bit.

One. In addition to gratitude for the abundance of the Thanksgiving table… In addition to gratitude for all of the people who planted and tended and transported that food to our tables…. In addition to gratitude for fertile soil and refreshing rains that nurture the growth of the food that sustains us… in addition to gratitude for these things, I’m grateful that God created us with senses of taste and smell. God created us with a capacity to enjoy food, beyond just eating it. I’m grateful for all of our senses, but Thanksgiving evokes taste and smell in particular. Smells and tastes that bring us joy; that nurture our souls as well as our bodies. And because we have the capacity to taste and see and smell, we also have the promise our senses may bring us new tastes, new joys yet ahead.

Two. In addition to gratitude for the blessings of the particular family members and friends who are a part of my life, I am grateful that God created us with the capacity and the yearning for friendship and love. God created us with a desire and an ability to form relationships. Relationships that enable us to be more than we could ever be on our own. And it is this capacity for relationships that enables to know God with us in our lives.

Three. In addition to gratitude for all of God’s creation, I am grateful for the spark of creativity that is within us all. Within us because we have been created in the image of the creator God. We can create. Creativity is a part of who we all are. This means we can be co-creators with God. New music, new art, new technical wonders are yet to be created.

Four. In addition to gratitude for the freedoms I enjoy in particular as a citizen of this country, I am grateful that God created human beings with a passion for justice and freedom. We are free because God created human beings with a passion for justice and freedom. And because God created us with a passion for justice and freedom this ensures that gratitude for freedom will not stop with us today in this country. In the future other peoples will come to have occasion to be thankful for new freedom and justice.

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for all God has given me, but perhaps more profoundly, I am grateful for how God has created all of us. I am grateful that we have been created with the capacity for joy and wonder and the yearning to nurture our souls. And I’m grateful that we have been created in such a way as we have reason and cause to hope. To hope for new joys and wonders, to hope for richer relationships and an ever deepening faith. To hope for justice and peace and the coming of God’s kingdom.

Last Sunday after Pentecost - November 24

Time's Arrow, Time's Cycle

Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the church year. It is also informally known as Christ the King Sunday. Hence the references in the Gospel to Christ as King and to the Kingdom.

Thinking about the church calendar led me to think about time in general. There is a book by Stephen Jay Gould which is titled: “Time’s Arrow, Time’s Cycle.” Two great images or metaphors for time. Time as arrow. Time as cycle. Gould died just a few years ago. By training, he was a paleontologist, but he wrote extensively for both popular and scientific audiences.

Time as arrow; time as cycle. We recognize and experience both of these qualities of time in our life in the church. Time as cycle. A cycle, of course, is a pattern that repeats itself over and over again.

We experience time’s cycle in the Daily Office as it is offered to us in the Book of Common Prayer. Daily Morning and Evening prayer. As we pray the dawning and setting of each day, day after day, we experience time as cycle. And there is comfort and a sort of anchor in the routine of the cycle. And reassurance that each new dawn will come. Another book I like the title of is a book about Benedictine spirituality entitled “Always We Begin Again.” Renewal, reconciliation… are offered to us again and again and again.

Our weekly celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Lord’s Day is a manifestation of time’s cycle. You may know that in the church, the number eight signifies fulfillment. The full cycle of Sunday through to the next Sunday. We celebrate the octave of Easter. Easter through the next Sunday, a sign of the fulfillment offered in the resurrection hope.

And, of course, there is the yearly cycle of the church calendar. One cycle ends today but another begins next Sunday. The cycle of seasons in the church calendar… Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost… remind us of the great cycles of life and remind us that we are connected to God throughout all of the seasons of our lives.

By definition, cycles are infinitely repetitive. An arrow, on the other hand, has direction. It has a beginning and an end. It starts in one place and ends in another. We all experience time as arrow, of course, as we age, living our lives as a former priest of mine used to say from the death we did not request to the death we cannot escape. But for us as Christians, time as arrow is particularly important because we affirm the arrow’s trajectory is in God’s hand. The purpose and destination of time’s arrow are in God’s hands. We move from creation to kingdom, in our individual lives and in all that is. We are headed for something. God’s kingdom.

Our diocesan convention was Friday and yesterday. Bishop Lee talked about time’s arrow a lot. In a way, it was the theme of the convention. He didn’t use the language of time’s arrow, but it was what he was talking about in his sermon at the Eucharist and in his address to convention. His sermon was all about the positive nature of change. Change is an inevitable aspect of time as arrow.

The theme of creation was “Behold, I make all things new.” Thinking about time’s arrow, listen to this excerpt from Bishop Lee’s address to convention:

The theme for this 176th convention is that we are doing a new thing. Actually, I think that's not quite the title I want to use. I think I'd rather say, and I'll proclaim it here right now: God is doing a new thing. God is always doing new things. Our scriptures, the vast sweep of the contemplative tradition, the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection itself and the sending of the Holy Spirit -- they all testify to the truth of it. God is always doing a new thing, in creation and its ongoing renewal, in the evolution of human culture, in the community of faith, in our own individual lives. God is the prime mover, the creator and sustainer of all that is or every will be, and God's mission is the repair, the restoration, the re-newing of that creation into a right relationship with himself. The new thing is God's project and we who have been redeemed by God's unexpected action in Jesus, we have the staggering invitation to join in God's mission of making all things new. That's what we're for, that's what all of this is all about. There's a phrase ascribed to everyone from Abraham Lincoln to the management guru Peter Drucker, "The best way to predict the future is to create it." The Christian faith proclaims that God invites us to be nothing less than co-creators....

A friend of this diocese, the author Diana Butler Bass said to me once that out of all sins nostalgia may be one of the most pernicious. Nostalgia says that the best has already happened. But the God we worship, the God made known to us in Christ, the God who has not and never will leave us, that God is the one who makes all things eternally new. The best is always yet to be. I give thanks to serve with you as a people who are daring to believe that the future belongs to God and so do we.

The Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost - November 17

What We Can Become
Isaiah 65:17-25
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Luke 21:5-19

As a girl, I occasionally watched the original “Let’s Make a Deal,” with Monty Hall. I haven’t seen any of the more recent spin offs. Memories of the show popped into my head as I was considering this week’s sermon. On a day when our collect commends “all holy Scripture” to us for our learning, I was not excited about preaching on any of the lessons. Between the Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, the epistle from second Thessalonians and Luke’s gospel I felt like the contestants randomly picked Door #1, Door #2 or Door #3.

And I might ask you, for your sermon today would you like Door #1, Door #2 or Door #3? On the game show, the contestants don’t know, of course, what’s hidden behind the doors. We have equally little control over the readings that are presented to us by the lectionary on a given Sunday. A lot of thought has gone into the development of the lectionary, however. And I have said before, and would say again even today, one of the great strengths of a set lectionary is that it forces us to deal with passages in Scripture we might rather avoid. So let’s look behind each of the doors.

Behind door #1 we have a reading from what is often called Third Isaiah. The Biblical book we call Isaiah is a compilation of several writers. It’s a glorious image of new heavens and a new earth: Jerusalem (!) a joy with no more weeping. No more infant mortality or premature death. No more hunger. No more hurtfulness or destruction. And the wolf and the lamb will feed together. Glorious, yes, but about a realistic as me winning the grand prize on a game show. How can I preach this vision when it is so far from the reality of the world we live in?

Behind door #2 is a doozy of a stewardship sermon. Maybe it’s a good thing the vestry did not specifically charge me with a stewardship sermon this year. This isn’t one I’d really like to preach. Writing to the Christians in Thessalonica, Paul is very critical of people whom he calls idle busybodies. And to the Christian community, he says: “keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us.” In this passage, Paul is not talking about withholding government entitlements, although some have interpreted it that way. He’s talking about people who don’t pledge… The context is the common life and mission of the Christian community. Paul is talking about folks who do not offer their talents and the fruits of their labor for the support and mission of the Christian community.

Moving on to door #3. This passage from Luke’s gospel is meant to be reassuring. People are worried about the end times. And Luke offers Jesus’ words of assurance. You don’t need to worry about the end of time. Before it comes there will be wars and insurrections, great earthquakes, famines and plagues, and dreadful portents from heaven. Don’t worry. Before the end times, you will be arrested and persecuted and betrayed by your family… Don’t worry.

We’ve got one more week of this before Advent!

So which sermon would you like? Door #1, door #2, or door #3?

On a day when the collect does encourage us to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest Holy Scripture, let’s spend a little more time with each lesson.

There is a theme. The future determines how we live in the present. That’s hard to put into practice, but it’s the Christian perspective. God’s hope for us, God’s promise to us affects how we live today. We are sustained and motivated, in the present, not by what we have been, but by what we can become.

In reading on these passages I learned something that helps with the Isaiah passage. It is a hymn exalting the temple rather than strict prophecy. One commentator writes: “The motifs in the text are ones found in other ancient Near Eastern texts that exalted temples. Temples were viewed as the residence of the deity; in other words, built metaphors that symbolized their belief that their god was in their midst. Temple hymns viewed the earthly temple as a derivative of the deity’s true residence in heaven.” Worshiping in the temple, people encounter the heavenly vision. Within worship they see and experience God’s desire for God’s people and for creation.

So, looking again at Isaiah, people know that when they are working to reduce hunger and infant mortality, they are doing God’s work, they are helping God’s desire come to fruition.

The wolf and the lamb may never feed together in the natural world around us, but whenever we work for reconciliation between people for whom enmity has become a seemingly inevitable way of life, we are working for the fulfillment of God’s desire, bringing wolf and lamb together. I can think of quite a few examples of people in our contemporary world for whom enmity has become a way of life:

• Israeli and Palestinian. 
• Al Qaida and American. 
• (This is not a joke.) Tea party and liberal democrat. 
• Rival gangs in Chicago. 
• Estrangements within some families. 

There are things we can do. We may not have a place at international negotiating tables, but we can be thoughtful in the way we filter the news. In the way we speak of others. We can help the heavenly vision shine beyond the temple and into the world.

Moving on to Second Thessalonians. We don’t really know who the idle busybodies were or why they were disrupting and/or not contributing to the mission of the Christian community. Maybe they thought the end was near and assumed there was no need to tend to the present. Paul is very clear: the end is not an excuse for idleness; it is motivation to greater intensity. An awareness of the future end or fulfillment of time should encourage Christians to take more seriously the Christian life and community. If the future on our horizon is not about juggling this week’s calendar or the stresses of the holiday, but rather is about the second coming… well all of a sudden the Christian life and supporting and living that life within the Christian community shoots up quite a few notches on the priority scale. And the thing is, for us today, making the Christian life and support of the Christian community higher priorities will help with all of those other things.

And Jesus in Luke’s Gospel simply says, persevere. Perseverance is a Christian virtue. The Gospel was written after the fall of the temple in a time of trial for the early Christians. What Jesus predicts in Luke has already happened. Jesus says: I have not abandoned you. Persevere. “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” At least for me, this phrase does not mean that by enduring we will earn salvation. It is based in the presence. As we endure, we will grow our souls. Endurance nurtures and strengthens the soul. But a vision and promise of God’s future kingdom helps motivate endurance.

These weeks at the end of the church year have the potential to powerfully inspire us. They urge us to look forward, and to live in ways that bring God’s future into the present. That’s really what living faithfully is all about. To be sustained and motivated, in the present, not by what we have been, but by what we can become.