12/1/19
(Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44)
In the world of competitive sports, there’s an old saying: you play the way you practice. That’s a caution against being casual when you’re practicing. It has mostly to do with how seriously you pay attention to what you’re doing. When you’re playing an actual game, it’s the habits that you’ve ingrained in practice – so that you do them reflexively, you don’t have to think about them – that enable you to play your best, to get the most out of yourself; and thereby to grow, to get a little better, every time you play. And it’s also more fun that way.
Of course this principle applies, not just to sports, but to the rest of life as well. I’ll give you an example from show business. In the early days of television, before the days of videotape, everything was broadcast live. I know of an actor who was on a soap opera back then; and when he was in a scene that involved a telephone call, in rehearsal, this actor would pantomime the receiver with his hand, and not bother with the actual prop phone. The problem was that, when it came to performance, there were times when he would suddenly catch himself, live and in front of a nationwide audience, speaking into his hand.
You play the way you practice.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent; the first day of a new season, and of a new church year. In the church calendar, each season of the year calls our attention to a particular area of the life of the spirit: in our spiritual practice, we look in a particular direction; and if we’re paying the right kind of attention, we focus on what it means for our real lives.
But of course when each season is over, it’s not as though the particular direction we’ve been looking in just goes away, and we’re done with it. What we concentrate on in each season is present with us throughout the whole year: they’re all there, in some measure, all the time.
Advent is a season that goes by pretty quickly. Certainly one way that many of us think of Advent is principally as the time when, with our children, we wait for Baby Jesus. And that’s a heartwarming thing to do, that is one way to think of Advent, and it’s great when Baby Jesus comes and that promise is fulfilled and on Christmas we hear again that story that has inspired countless people for two thousand years.
But that story, and the arrival of Baby Jesus, is a representation of a much larger reality, with big implications for how we live; and if we confine our experience of Advent merely to waiting for Baby Jesus and then being happy when he shows up, if that’s all Advent is for us, then we miss the point. We ignore what there really is to celebrate at Christmas.
We all – all of us here now, every human who’s ever been alive and ever will be alive – we are all part of an infinitely bigger picture. It’s the ground of everything in this world, it’s the basis of the life that we live, this bigger picture. In the language of the New Testament we call the big picture the kingdom of God; which in this broken world is only dimly, fitfully present. But as people of faith, we know the kingdom of God is the real world; and it’s what we strive for. As people of faith, we believe that what we do – in our daily lives – matters to God. What we do causes ripples in that big picture, for better, or worse.
Certainly we are led to this understanding by the hard-edged quality of both New Testament readings today. Paul talks to the Christians in Rome about the imminent return of the risen Christ, and the final establishment of God’s kingdom: he tells us to wake from sleep, to lay aside the works of darkness. And in today’s gospel reading from Matthew, Jesus responds to a question from the disciples about the day of his coming: meaning his second coming: the end of the age; and all that language about famines and earthquakes, and people getting snatched up and taken away, those are all images of how wide is the gap between that that time, and ours. .
Unfortunately, we tend not to take these readings seriously, we deflect them, these and others like them in the New Testament. They seem like either pure superstition, or relics of an authoritarian church trying to keep us in line by scaring us (do what we say or you won’t get into heaven), which is completely at odds with the good news of Jesus Christ.
But when we do that – when we ignore the darkness of the gulf between our world and God’s kingdom – then we also ignore the promise that God makes to us, and keeps, in the birth of Jesus Christ; and we miss the new life that God holds out to us, every day.
We had a great practical example of this life three days ago, right here in this building (actually, we’ve had it every year for a while now.) It’s what now is called “Dustin’s Dinner”: the Easley family Thanksgiving extravaganza, which we at St. John’s have been blessed to house in our parish hall and kitchen for the last fourteen years. Many of you know about this event, I’m sure, but for those who don’t, just briefly: Sheila and Sam Easley began it sixteen years ago in memory of their son Dustin, who had been killed in a car crash the previous Thanksgiving. It started in their kitchen the next year, with half a dozen turkeys and a few neighbors helping to cook and deliver Thanksgiving meals to people who otherwise wouldn’t have had them. It’s grown every year, and is now a community effort, which three days ago delivered over 150 turkeys and 50 hams, with all the trimmings, to people all over New Milford
And if you’ve ever had the good fortune to be part of it, I’m sure you’ve seen what I’m talking about why it’s grown every year. You walk in and see our parish hall, filled with long tables covered with big boxes crammed full of great Thanksgiving meals waiting to be delivered, and the scores of people cooking, assembling, and delivering; and you can feel the energy, the uplift, the distinct sense of unique fulfillment, shared by everybody – this is who we really are! – and you understand why Sheila Easley says it’s taken the worst day of her life and turned it into the best day of her life.
This is our preview of the coming of God’s kingdom, of the day when God will make all things well, will wipe away every tear, will establish once and for all God’s peace, and God’s justice.
We prepare in Advent for the Christ who is always approaching us, always ready to enter our lives. You could look at everything we do in church from that point of view: we are practicing here, all year, to open the door; to unblock the way, for the living power of God to come into our lives, for the Holy Spirit to get to work. We practice it here, so we can do it in the game, out there. God grant that we practice well; and that we know the joy of playing the way we practice. Thanks be to God.