Gospel: Matthew 24:36-44
How would you feel if a friend called you up to say they’re coming by for a visit, and when you ask what time they think they’ll be at your house they simply reply, “Oh, you’ll know when I get there. Just be ready.” Or imagine you’ve gone out to dinner and after placing your order you ask the server how long it will take for your meal to arrive. What you get in response to your question is the server looking at you, smiling, and saying, “About that day and hour, only the chef knows.”
In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus is the friend coming to visit and the server bringing you your meal. But what he’s offering is much more than an afternoon chat or a nice dinner. He’s offering a hint as to when he’ll return and at what hour humanity will arrive at the end of the age.
Or is he?
Unfortunately, for those traveling with Jesus, it’s not quite the hint they’re seeking. When the disciples gathered around him on the Mount of Olives and asked when he would return and what signs they should be on the lookout for, they wanted a definitive answer. Who wouldn’t? It’s human nature to want specific answers, to know exactly when and where things will happen. One of the most often-used functions on my phone is the calendar; I always want to know what’s on my schedule, when an event will start, and what time it should wrap up. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want clear road markers for their trips – to know they’re almost home when they see the big oak tree on the corner, or to know that they need to make a right-hand turn when they get to a particular intersection.
Think about the number of times, though, that Jesus gave these easy markers – these easily understandable, easy-to-follow answers. With rare exception, the lessons he shared – primarily through parables and discourses such as the one we heard a few minutes ago – were given in a way that made folks think. Giving someone the answer is easy, and truthfully there’s not much reward in it. It’s like someone simply giving you the correct answers for your homework: you’ll get them all right, but you won’t learn anything.
Things are much more rewarding – we learn so much more – if we must work for the answer. For the disciples, that made for what I’m sure were some very frustrating situations. They often couldn’t walk away from these encounters with Jesus with anything definite, the assuredness that two plus two does in fact equal four. For them, the math that Jesus was offering was much more abstract – an equation where two plus two equals something that they just couldn’t quite figure out.
For us as Christians, however, perhaps the fact that things aren’t always clear and that it’s a struggle to make sense of them is one of the most important lessons of all. Being followers of Jesus isn’t a simple equation, quite the contrary. Following Jesus, even in the most casual manner, is hard. And if we try to follow Jesus the way we’re supposed to follow him, we find the difficulty level increased even more.
Jesus tells us not to worry about when things will happen; we’re to simply be ready for the unexpected hour of his arrival. That mindset hasn’t always been easy for me. I can remember in years past climbing Sharp Top Mountain, something I’ve not done much of in recent years, and it’s always a challenge on the rare – and infrequent – times that I’ve tried. I can remember that as I worked my way to the top, I viewed the climb in much the same way as Jesus’ listeners in today’s reading. I was too focused on the end – “When will I be there?” “How much longer?” – to the exclusion of everything that I could have been experiencing on the way up.
What if, however, we start to view things differently? What if, instead of always spending our time wondering about what’s coming at the end – when and where the solutions to the problems in our life will appear – we instead focus on the things that are making up the problems now?
Starting today, in this Advent season, the time of hopeful expectation, we’re called to patiently wait. We’re to be ready, yes, and we should be observant and watchful – but watchfulness isn’t limited strictly to Christ’s arrival at Christmas or his return in the last days. If we live and act by focusing on the example of Jesus, we should also be watching for our brothers and sisters in the family of God.
Even while waiting for Christ, we can and should spend our time living like Christ – and that requires doing something counterintuitive for many. We should stop worrying about what is going to happen later – tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Instead, we should worry about the here and now. Along with that, we shouldn’t worry about the things that we can’t see; we should worry about the things that are right in front of us.
There’s much in the world we can’t help but notice. Regardless of personal views, I trust you would agree that when our society or any segment of its population is hurt, we all feel the pain. The past few years have accelerated deep divisions in this country. I grieve with friends, loved ones, and even strangers who face discrimination and threats from certain segments of the country. In recent weeks I’ve reflected on the many in this region and across the country living in shelters, transitional housing, or on the streets. I fear for all those who – in this country and in lands around the world – are forced to flee violence and repression, in their homes and in their nations, by risking everything for the great unknown that awaits them as they desperately seek safety for themselves and their families.
This is our here and now. The kingdom we’ve been promised will come. But there’s nothing to say that we can’t work to bring about a bit of the kingdom now. It’s not enough to worry about the problems. We should act, and there’s nothing stopping us from making Advent a time of action – of extending a hand to those in need, a hug to those who have been hurt, and our hearts to every brother and sister in creation.
Henri Nouwen wrote that waiting is essential to the spiritual life. But as a discipline of Jesus, he says, it’s not empty waiting. “Waiting for God is an active, alert – yes, joyful – waiting,” he wrote. “As we wait we remember him for whom we are waiting, and as we remember him we create a community ready to welcome him when he comes.”
Yes, only God knows the day and hour of Christ’s return. But what will we do with the time we have while waiting? What will we do to make Advent a time where we glimpse the coming of the kingdom?
Amen.