One will be taken; one, left – 27 November 2016 – First Sunday of Advent

The religious imagination chews on images that sometimes clash and sometimes feed depth to each other. Such is the beginning of Advent, a time when we consider ultimacy.

In these weeks, if we prepare for the coming of the Holy One, we anticipate our ultimate salvation. If we ponder in these weeks our own finality and that of Earth itself, we practice living with the knowledge of oblivion and, in so doing, we hold what exists in the present of infinite value. Whichever path we emphasize in Advent, our comprehension of Jesus’ presence will be strengthen and altered by immersion in a story that is at once ancient and new.

Matthew 24:36-44

Jesus indicates that the time before the temple is destroyed will seem quite normal. People will be engaged in the activities of ordinary life—eating, drinking and marrying. But all of that normalcy will be swept away just like it was in the story of Noah's flood.

The image of “one taken and one left” is employed as a core element of the premillennial dispensationalist idea of the Rapture. It seems more likely that, following the image of the flood, to be “taken” is to be taken away in judgment or death, while being “left” is to remain alive.

Jesus reiterates his warning that no one knows when this flood of judgment will happen. Jesus' followers will not be surprised when the temple is swept away, together with the political and religious system built upon it. Instead, they will recognize it as God's vindication of Jesus.

This Advent text assists the Christian assembly to make spiritual preparation to greet the Lord. It is not difficult for us to be deceived by the apparent normalcy of daily life and fail to recognize that the risen Christ is ready to meet us at this hour and every hour, whether in prayer, service to the neighbor in need, worship or Bible reading. Advent summons us to be alert during all of ordinary life, recognizing that the living Lord is ever ready to break into our lives with saving power. – Aaron J. Couch

Isaiah 2:1-5

As the Christian assembly welcomes the season of Advent, it receives a word of promise that rings with hope for the coming of God and the triumph of peace. . . In the religious imagination of the ancient world, mountains were the “thin places” where one might encounter the divine. This passage announces that the Temple Mount will be recognized as the reality to which the Mesopotamian ziggurats aspired; the reality of which the Greek's stories of Mount Olympus were shadowy intuitions—the home of the living God on earth. . .

The exaltation of Zion points to the preeminence of Israel's God. The whole human family will discover the goodness of the Lord and will seek God's instruction (Torah). The result will be the end of warfare and lasting peace. People will realize they no longer need weapons that produce death, so they will transform them into farming tools for sustaining life. – Aaron J. Couch

Romans 13:11-14

Paul directs his readers' attention to the future and to the salvation that God will accomplish, because that future is what gives meaning and direction for believers in the present time. . . Paul employs the image of putting on the armor of light, which suggests that there is a struggle involved in embracing God's future fully in the present. He also uses the image of putting on Jesus Christ (Galatians 3:27) as a metaphor for baptism. The two “putting on” images may be considered roughly equivalent. The promises and character of Christ may serve as a strong defense against the enticement of a life lived only for personal gratification, which sadly will lead only into darkness. – Aaron J. Couch

Aaron Couch is a co-pastor of First Immanuel Lutheran Church in Portland, Oregon.

Homily Service 41, no. 1 (2007): 5-14.

The Future is Now – 14 December 2014 – Third Sunday of Advent

One of the tricky parts of Advent is the conflation of time. We await the coming of the savior but we know the savior has already come. We hear John the Baptist tell us someone is about to appear who is more powerful than he is and yet we know Jesus has already lived among us, died, and rose from the dead. Jesus’ ministry is about to begin, as we speak of it in the Advent season, but it is also already past. And we also proclaim the presence of the one who was, and is, and is to come. 

Advent is, for all these reasons, a marvelous time to play with time, to think about words that can bring to life in the present what is past and future. The preacher knows that scripture tells us what some people experienced before it happened, while we live in the aftermath of all that transpired. 

The temptation is to speak of what will be while the preacher really needs to help the assembly see what is here now, in our lives today. 

John 1:6-8, 19-28

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ is a strange-looking person only some people would call a “foodie” whose message brings the people from farm and city to admit their need for cleansing. We can imagine all we want about what, in John, so compelled people. But perhaps it was not so much John himself as the fact that his message of the coming one for whom everyone ought to prepare resonated with the people. They knew, as do we, that at the bottom of things, we are in need of cleansing. We need to be what we are not. In a sense, this is how John defined himself to others. 

Mark’s Gospel tells us: “This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.” (vs. 28) 

The Christian God acts in history; God is not just an abstract concept or philosophical truth. The writer of John made the effort to localize his words—a particular time and place. The act of preaching is another instance of such localizing . . . We should be cautious but not afraid of saying … [we saw that] God has indeed been at work among us?

- Jon Keune 

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

We live between that first Pentecost and the final Advent. But that means we live in the Spirit. Even in the Christmas rush, the Spirit opens us to hear these voices. Past, present, and future come into the light of God. Faith looks back to God's promises. Hope looks forward to God fulfilling them. And love is faith and hope active in the present, sharing the light here and now. 

And so we can join with Isaiah, who rejoices not in what God has done but in what God promises to do in the future. And with the Magnificat, as Mary rejoices in what God is going to do in her, and speaks as if it has already happened. And St. Paul urges the Thessalonians to rejoice always, in all circumstances, anticipating the coming of our LORD Jesus Christ. 

Advent joy is counting our chickens before they hatch, celebrating victory at half time with our team down fifty points.  . . .  When you clean the house for the coming guests, you can either hide all the junk behind closed doors and under beds, or you can hear John's call to make the way straight, which means exposing all the junk, bringing it into the light, where it can be sorted, gotten rid of, or cleansed.

Mother Mary teaches us to rejoice . . . as if each of us bore within us a new and fragile being, as if each of us carried another's greatness that makes us the fragile, lowly one that is blessed. . . . 

That is cause for rejoicing. In our community of faith, in our neighborhood, good things can happen, things that last beyond the world's ephemeral holiday season, things that truly come from the holy day when Christ comes among us. It's in the light of that coming that St. Paul's voice cries out: rejoice, pray, give thanks, quench not, do not despise, test, hold fast, abstain. They all sound somewhat reachable, but on our own we can't rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, abstain from every form of evil.

It will take the God of peace to sanctify us entirely. The Spirit that anoints Jesus, the Spirit who is not quenched by our sins, the Spirit who rejoices—that same Spirit empowers us to be witnesses to testify to the light, to be God's planting, a winter garden that grows into rejoicing in righteousness and praise. For this is the year of the LORD's favor. And our spirit rejoices. 

– Paul Bieber  

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

Paul’s letter tells an early church community: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (vss. 16–18) Rejoicing requires gratitude, and that is the fundamental posture of Christian spirituality. 

And yet, how hard it can be to sustain our grateful prayers. They are vital, however, to being able to see past the present moment toward the generosity of others.

We live, as the early church did, with the same need for gratitude, the same questions, awaiting the peace that surpasses all understanding, the end to destruction, the reconciliation of all nations. Just as in our time when unspeakable horrors visit nation after nation, following the Holocaust, people cried out, “Where were you, God?” Some rabbis understood that God’s response was to ask, “Where were you?” 

John the Baptist stands tall on this Sunday as: witness to the light, not the Messiah, not Elijah, not the prophet, but the voice crying out, the one who was not worthy. Many images lead us to see through them today the mystery that is Christ Jesus. We see through one who was not Jesus but who was, nevertheless, the finger pointing, the preacher who shows us the face of love. We have the same proclamation to make. 

Paul Bieber is pastor of All Saints Lutheran Church, San Diego, California.  

Jon Keune is a postdoctoral fellow in India Studies at the University of Houston and is approved for ordination as a pastor in the ELCA. 

Homily Service 39, no. 1 (2005): 3-14.

In Faith, Take Risks – 16 November 2014 – Lectionary 33

Next Sunday celebrates Christ Jesus as the one who reigns over all. And the following Sunday begins the apocalyptic time of readings for Advent. From the Gospel and the prophetic word today, the message prepares the assembly for this movement through a period that sets us up for the momentous birth of Immanuel. Already, we are to keep alert, beware, shun fear, take risks, give ourselves away. The frightened and too-careful steward does nothing with what he has been given; the prophet speaks to people who hoard instead of attending to those in need; the epistle advises the church to share the burden of maintaining strength and conviction.

This word is relevant every day for all of us. Bounty surrounds us–even those of us who have fewer material possessions than others. Everyone has gifts to offer toward shaping a world that gives life rather than destruction.

God’s entreaty that we make something good of what we have been given comes to us here in the context of the promised “day of the Lord.” Although we might think this coming day is a triumphant moment, it is painted as a disaster because we haven’t lived up to the will of the holy one. Today is a warning that we perk up and listen to God’s word.

Matthew 25:14-30

Just prior to this parable, Jesus says, “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (of the Lord's departure and his return) (25:13). The question answered by this parable seems to be, “What to do while the Lord is gone and while the disciples wait for his return?” The listener is to take what has been given and use it for the master. The one who takes what has been entrusted to him and hides it for safekeeping is chastised for being a hoarder and a non–risk-taker.

– Eric T. Myers is the pastor of Frederick Presbyterian Church in Frederick, Maryland.

This parable is probably a good opportunity to teach a bit about parables in general. The tendency for the casual reader is to compare the powerful figure in each parable with God. But clearly, the master cannot be equated with God. God is not a slave owner, a harsh man, or one who engages in shady dealings. The meaning of the parable must be sought elsewhere.

Pastor Richard Jeske, some years ago, taught workshops in which he challenged his hearers to interpret parables by finding the Gospel in them. He said that you would find the Gospel at the point in the story where you found yourself offended. That is, when the story began to go against the values of our society, values we have all internalized, and things are turned upside down, that is where you will find good news. Those who worked boldly on behalf of the master, who took risks and trusted somehow in the mercy of this “harsh man,” were rewarded. The one who played it safe, who did not trust the master, lost out.

One is reminded of Martin Luther's famous “sin boldly, but trust God the more boldly still.” Taking chances on behalf of the Gospel is the way Jesus' followers participate in the kingdom. In our world today there is much going on that calls out for faithful followers of Jesus to take chances on behalf of the powerless and hopeless. The world says it is none of our business, let the authorities take care of it, do not get involved. The good news here is that we are free to be deeply involved in the world and we can trust God for the outcome.

­– Judith Simonson is a retired pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

 

Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18

The prophet puts an even finer point upon the command to be involved in the world’s business, creating rather than hiding. The central word is a warning to those who “say in their hearts, ‘The LORD will not do good, nor will the LORD do harm.” In response to this lack of faith – a lack of allegiance to God – the prophet sets out a scenario of divine displeasure which will result in devastation for everyone and everything:  “. . . in the fire of the LORD’s passion the whole earth shall be consumed . . . “

Those who bring about this terrible destruction are those, Zephaniah says, “who rest complacently on their dregs . . . ” We are called to attend to the needs around us, demonstrating our trust in God. 

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

Facing this catastrophe, the epistle reiterates God’s call to vigilance: “. . . the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.” Our challenge is to “encourage one another and build up each other” so that we do not “rest complacently” with the status quo. Perhaps these scripture readings amount to a call to deep change.

What, in our spheres of influence, might we alter for the good?

Homily Service 41, no. 4 (21 July 2008): 130-138.