The Gospel reading for today in the Missal, which we use at St Mark’s, is different from that in the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL), which we use at St Gabriel’s, the reading in the Missal being several verses shorter than that in the RCL. So, in order to harmonise the Gospel readings for the purpose of today’s sermon, the longer reading is printed below so that it can be read by everyone before moving on to the sermon.

Mark 13:24-37

²⁴ “But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, ²⁵ and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. ²⁶ And then they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. ²⁷ And then he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

²⁸ “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts out its leaves, you know that summer is near. ²⁹ So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. ³⁰ Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place. ³¹ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

³² “But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³³ Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come. ³⁴ It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his servants in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to stay awake. ³⁵ Therefore stay awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or when the cock crows, or in the morning— ³⁶ lest he come suddenly and find you asleep. ³⁷ And what I say to you I say to all: Stay awake.”

Sermon
In the years before I was ordained, I was part of a group of people, from various parishes in the area where I lived, who used to meet quite regularly for Discussion Groups and Bible Studies. One of the Bible Studies we did was on the Gospel of St Mark and I always remember the meeting when we looked at the passage from St Mark’s Gospel from which this morning’s Gospel reading is taken. The person who was leading the study was a Licensed Reader from a local parish, and the reason I remember this session of the Bible Study so well, is because I’ve never forgotten what they said about the verses that make up our Gospel reading today. What they said was that they really didn’t like this part of the Bible at all and, if there was one part of the Bible they could do away with, it was this bit. And that was because this is the part where Jesus lies to his disciples!

This Gospel reading is part of a longer discourse in which Jesus speaks about the ‘End Times’. He starts by speaking about the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and then, in answer to questions from Peter, James, John and Andrew, he goes on to speak about the signs that will herald the end, and herald his return ‘with great power and glory’.  During this discourse, Jesus says,

“Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place.”

This is usually taken to mean that Jesus’ own generation, his disciples and other contemporaries, would live to see all these things happen. But they died a long time ago, and these things have still not happened yet. That makes these words of Jesus quite difficult for us to understand. And it was these words that led the Reader who led our Bible Study that night to conclude that Jesus must have been lying to his disciples when he said this. What other explanation was there?

But, if we go down the route of thinking that Jesus must have been lying, because what he said doesn’t seem to be right or to make sense, we could easily find ourselves on a very slippery slope indeed. If we think that, for whatever reason, Jesus lied when he spoke these words to his disciples, or alternatively, try to get round that problem by saying Jesus never really said them, where does that line of thinking end? If we think Jesus lied here, how do we know he wasn’t lying elsewhere? We might then look at other things that Jesus said that we find difficult to understand, or believe, and decide he was lying then too.  And if we start to think that we can’t really believe Jesus’ words, might we not also then start to look at what he did, and wonder just how much of that is true as well? In fact, if we go down this road, of only believing Jesus when we can fully understand what he said and meant and did, or if we don’t fully understand at least prove what he said and did is true, we might easily find ourselves wondering whether any of his words are true and if anything we read about him in the Gospels really happened. That is the end, or at least the beginning of the end, of trust in Jesus, and of hope in him too. It’s the end, or at least the beginning of the end, of faith.

We have to accept that some of things we read in the Bible, including some of Jesus’ words, not to mention the miracles he performed, are hard to understand. And because we don’t understand them, we might even find some of these things difficult to believe at times. But we always have to remember that we’re neither asked nor expected know and understand these things fully, but to have faith, to believe and trust even when we don’t know and don’t really understand. As St Paul says in his 1^st Letter to the Corinthians,

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

And we see this in today’s Gospel when Jesus himself openly admits that there are some things that even he doesn’t know.

After telling his disciples about the signs that will herald the end, Jesus quite openly says,

“But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

And if there are things concerning the Father that even Jesus, the Son of God, doesn’t know, how can we expect to know and understand everything? If Jesus didn’t know everything, why should we think we ought to be able to know and understand everything? If Jesus didn’t know everything, why should we think that anything we can’t understand, must be wrong, or can’t have happened, or must be a lie? But many people, including many in the Church, do seem to think in this way.

A problem that I think we all have, even as Christians, in modern times, is that we’re all children of the Enlightenment. As I’m sure many of you will know, the Enlightenment was a movement that arose in Europe during the 17^th and 18^th Centuries that championed human reason as the means to understand the universe and improve the human condition. It led to the ascendency of a worldview based on science and provable scientific facts over a worldview based on Christianity and faith in God. Many of the Enlightenment’s high ideals about human beings, such as their inexorable progress through the application of reason and science have now been discredited, but the primacy of science over religion is still with us. It’s been with us for a long time and so it surrounds us and influences us from our very earliest days of life. We grow up being taught that every question has an answer and must be, and eventually will be, answered. And so we grow up thinking that we, either personally or as human beings generally, can and will answer every question if we think about it long enough and hard enough. And because we’re brought up under the influence of that scientific worldview from our earliest days, it becomes part of who we, even if we don’t realise it. And that can make us very mistrustful or dismissive of anything that can’t be answered or that we don’t understand. In my experience, that seems to lie behind the thinking of many people who believe in conspiracy theories.

Unfortunately, because it’s become part of who we all are, many people in the Church have, perhaps without realising it, allowed the prevailing and all-pervading scientific worldview to undermine their faith, or to take precedence over their faith. And so we have the ‘God of the Gaps’ Christians, those who believe that, where science seems to contradict their faith, it’s their faith that’s wrong. And, as science seems to contradict more and more of their faith, the space for God is reduced to the gaps in scientific knowledge where faith can still exist without contradiction by science. We have Christians who simply dismiss parts of their faith because they seem to go against human reason. Christians who dismiss parts of their faith because they don’t understand them. Christians who dismiss parts of their faith for these reasons because these things lead them to think that their faith, or at least parts of it, can’t be true.   

But science is concerned with observable, provable facts and, as the Letter to the Hebrews says

“faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” 

And so simply because we don’t understand something or it seems to go against human reason, we shouldn’t dismiss it as impossible, unbelievable, or a lie. That the end hasn’t come yet, for example, doesn’t mean that Jesus was lying to his disciples when he said ‘this generation’ would see it, and neither does it mean he didn’t really say that at all.   

In his admission that only the Father knows when the end will come, Jesus points us to some very important things that we always need to bear in mind when we read Jesus words, or indeed, the Scriptures generally. When Jesus said that ‘this generation’ will not pass away before they see the signs of the end times, he can’t have been speaking simply about his disciples and contemporaries: he can’t have simply meant that those who were living on earth at that time would see all these things happen. How could he have meant that if he didn’t know when it would happen? This tells us that we can’t ‘cherry pick’ the Scriptures, or Jesus’ words. We can’t pick and choose which bits to believe and which bits to dismiss as unbelievable, or even lies. We have to take them as a whole if we even hope to understand them.

So, when Jesus spoke about ‘this generation’, he must have meant something other than simply those who were alive then. In the Scriptures, ‘generation’ can mean a type of people who share a quality or characteristic, so he may have meant his disciples would see these things, but not necessarily those he was speaking to at the time. He may have meant his disciples whoever they might be at the time these signs occur.

Jesus also said that he would

“gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”

So by ‘this generation’ he could have indeed have meant those he was speaking to and others who were living at the time, as the term is generally taken to mean, but he may have meant that they will see these things from heaven. That wouldn’t contradict Jesus’ statement that these things would happen before that generation passed away.

In the Scriptures too, ‘generation’ can also apply to a race of people. So Jesus may have been speaking about his own race, the Jews, implying that, whatever happens in the meantime, including the destruction of the Temple, the Jews will see these things, whenever they happen.

The truth is, whilst we assume that Jesus’ disciples knew what he meant by ‘this generation’, now, 2000 years later, we simply don’t know exactly what he meant. But that doesn’t mean we can’t believe what he said. What it does mean is that, if we don’t understand something, it might be our understanding that’s at fault, not the words we’re reading that are untrue, and not our faith that’s misplaced.

Today, we begin the season of Advent, and so we’re once more called to stay awake and watch for the Lord’s coming. We don’t know when that will be, only God our Father knows that. But we have Jesus’ word that he will come and, because we don’t know when that will be, if we’re going to be ready to meet him when he comes, we have to be ready at all times. But we’ll only be ready at all times if we’ve taken Jesus’ words seriously and acted on them. And we won’t do that by going through his words to see if we can understand them and then picking and choosing what to believe and what not to believe. If we’re going to be ready to meet the Lord when he comes, we need to have faith that all his words are true and worthy of our trust and obedience, whether we fully understand them or not.

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for Advent 1 here.

I don’t think many, if any, of us can be unaware of the shenanigans that have been going on across the Atlantic since the US presidential election earlier this month. I’m sure many of us have been following the developments with some interest, and that we’ve been both appalled and concerned about what has, and is, happening there. But, having said that, can any of us really say that we’re shocked or surprised by what’s happened?

For some time before the election, the incumbent President hinted very strongly that he would only accept the result of the presidential election if he won it. It’s also been widely reported that the president is a narcissist. A narcissist is usually described as an extremely self-centred person who has a greatly exaggerated sense of their own importance, but the origin of the term, in Greek mythology, refers to someone who is in love with themselves. The President has also been described as someone who simply cannot accept even the possibility of defeat or of not getting his own way. And so, having lost the election, and with it his high office and much of his power and importance, can we really be surprised that he has acted in the way that he has?

I don’t think we can. But as appalling as we might find the spectacle of a US President trying to subvert the democracy and constitution of the nation he leads so that he can cling on to power, illegally, I think what is worse is the number of people who are willing, not only to go along with such nefarious activities, but who are ready and willing to actively participate in them in order to curry favour with such a leader, presumably, so that they’ll be rewarded by him in some way.  But again, can we really be surprised that this is happening too?  

I think we can be surprised perhaps about how open those involved in these things are about what can only be described as their attempts to turn a democracy into an autocracy. I think we can be surprised perhaps about the scale of the problem; about the number of people who are willing to be actively involved in such goings on. We might be surprised about these things too because, in what we sometimes call the democratic West, we’re not used to seeing our leaders act in this way, at least so openly. But I don’t think we can really be surprised that such things are going on because, in the final analysis, they all stem from nothing more than human pride, greed and selfishness, and those are problems that affect all people, in all walks of life, in all countries.

What is happening in the USA at the moment is really the result of people who think that they are more important than anyone else, being willing to put themselves and what they want before all other considerations. It’s the result of a person who wants power, and who no doubt thinks that they should have power, being willing to do whatever it takes to hold on to power, regardless of how wrong what they do might be, regardless of how much harm what they do might do to other people, to their own nation, or to the world. And it’s the result of people who are willing to aid and abet the person they see as their leader in whatever nefarious activities he might engage in to keep hold of the reins of power so that they can enjoy his favour, share just a little of his power, and no doubt bask in the reflection of his glory. We might be surprised to see it happening on such a grand scale in the USA today, but we shouldn’t be surprised that it happens because it’s something that happens whenever and wherever human pride, greed and selfishness show themselves and are allowed free rein to reign. And that’s something that’s happened on both large and small scales, throughout human history.

We all have our own share of pride, greed and selfishness and, through human history, there have been people who have used, or perhaps exploited, that fact for their own ends. People who have held power have used the pride, greed and selfishness of those around them to help them to consolidate their power and keep it. They’ve done this by promising to reward those around them in some way if they do what’s asked of them. And because all people have their own share of pride, greed and selfishness, there has never been a shortage of people who are more than willing to do what’s asked of them, whatever it might be, in return for a reward, whether that be in terms of wealth, a share of power, or simply to bask in the reflected glory of the one in charge. We read about this happening, repeatedly, in the pages of history books.

History books though, tend to tell the story of great people and great events, of kings and queens and nations. But don’t we also see this kind of thing happening on much smaller scales too? Don’t we see this kind of thing happening in the workplace, for example, where people will do whatever their boss asks them to in return for a pay rise or a promotion, or simply to be in their bosses good books? And if someone else ends up being overlooked for promotion or in the bosses bad books or even out of a job because of it, well that’s just too bad but after all, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and you have to look after number one and get what you can while you can. Don’t we see it in the Church too? After all, what is that bane of parish life, the clique, other than a group of people who’ve taken power, taken control of a parish, and do all they can to keep their control, regardless of the damage to the parish or hurt to the parishioners they cause? What else can we make of one very common saying amongst parish cliques, ‘We don’t want their sort here’? Something that’s very often said after the clique has driven someone away from the church. Don’t we see it in individual lives too? How often, these days, do we hear people say something along the lines of, ‘No one’s telling me what to do. It’s my life and I’ll do what I want with it.’? How many of us have wardrobes bursting at the seams with clothes or cupboards, fridges and freezers full to overflowing with food, and then see the poverty and deprivation in the world and even in our own society and communities, see people who have little, or nothing, and yet, having seen that, then go out and buy more clothes because they’re nice or fashionable, and more food because we fancy that for dinner or tea today, and think nothing about throwing food away that’s gone out of date because we’ve bought far more than we can eat? We know all these things happen, they all stem from human pride, greed and selfishness, and they all involve doing things, regardless of the consequences for others, in return for those who have power and authority over our lives, whether that be a king or a queen, a president, a work’s manager, or simply ourselves.

But whatever power and authority we think that we, or anyone else has over our lives, that power and authority is only temporary. That power will inevitably come to an end. Rulers and politicians lose their power, sometimes to people who are just as, if not even more proud and greedy and selfish, amongst their one-time supporters. The same is true of mangers in the workplace. They also have to retire eventually and lose their power that way. People who have usurped or abused power can lose it when others decide enough is enough and decide to stand up to them and take it from them. We can lose power over our own lives too, not least if we become too infirm to look after ourselves. And of course, all human power, and pride, and greed, and selfishness comes to an end when we die. And then, no matter how great or grand we’ve been, or think we are, in this life, we will all become subject to the one who has ultimate power over us; to God.

When that happens, just how great and good we’ve really been, will be brought to light. And that won’t be judged according to our standards of greatness and goodness, distorted as they are by pride and greed and selfishness, but according God’s standards. And because we’ll all be judged by the same standard, we won’t be able to claim that we’re being unfairly treated if we’re found wanting. Neither will we be able to argue about the judgement and appeal to a higher authority because there isn’t one. And we won’t be able to claim ignorance either because we’ve been told what we have to do to measure up to God’s standard. God has made sure of that through the teaching of prophets and through the words and example of his own Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, whom he sent to us and whom he has appointed to be our judge. So, whatever the decision of that judgement is, we will have no choice but to accept it. If we’re found worthy, we have God’s promise that we’ll be elected, we’ll be chosen, and we’ll be entitled to a reward. The reward for those who are elected is that they will have a share in God’s power, they’ll reign with Christ and live forever in the reflected glory of God.

But to do that, to gain our reward, we have to do what God asks of us. That means, that in this life, we have to do what Christ taught us to do, and our Gospel reading this morning makes it clear that there is no place for human pride, greed and selfishness in the lives of those who want to be his followers and earn the reward God has promised them. On the contrary, rather than the human way of seeking a reward from those we follow, which is so often done at the expense of others, to earn our reward as Christ’s followers, we have to make the love and care of others our priority, even if that means we have to act at our own expense at times.

It means we have do something about the plight of the hungry and thirsty, even if that means denying ourselves a little food or drink at times. That’s not so much of a hardship is it? After all, most of us have more than enough to eat and drink. It means we need to extend a hand of friendship to those strangers and newcomers to our communities and churches, to try to get to know a little better, those we don’t know well, even if we find that difficult or uncomfortable. Most of us will have been strangers and newcomers at sometime in our lives so we’ll know how much it means and how much easier life can be when someone does make that effort to welcome or befriend us. It means we need to do something about the plight of those who have nothing in terms of worldly possessions, sometimes not even adequate clothing. And if that means we have to wear something ourselves that we’ve worn a few times before or that went out of fashion last week, is that really such a hardship for us to bear, or wear even? It means we should make time to visit those who are sick, even if that means putting off something we were going to do. Is it so hard to rearrange the timetable of our busy lives to find the time to do that? We’re limited in what we can do in terms of visiting at the moment, of course, but if we can’t visit, we all have telephones don’t we? And there are so many who are in prisons, at least of a kind, at the moment. People can’t go out or are afraid to go out. How much would it mean to them to receive a phone call at this time? And how much would making that call cost us? A few pence and a few minutes of our time?

If we think about it, there are so many ways, and really very simple ways that we can do what Jesus is asking us to do in this morning’s Gospel. If we were asked to do so little and such simple things by someone who had the means to grant us an earthly reward for such small, simple services, how many of us would even think twice about it before we did it? And yet we so often fail to do these, and other things that Jesus asks us to do, even though the reward we’re offered for serving him is so much greater.

We often do what those who have power in this life ask us to do, for the short-term reward they offer us. Today, as we celebrate the feast day of Christ the King, let’s try to remember that he is our King. Let’s try to remember that his kingship is universal and eternal, that his power over us extends beyond the short time of our earthly lives and into the eternity of a promised life after our time on earth has ended. Let’s make an effort to offer him, as our universal and eternal King, the same service we offer those who have power in this life so that, when the time come to find out whether we have been elected or not, he will know us as his true and loyal subjects and servants and welcome us into our promised reward.

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for Christ the King here.

As many of you will know, the Church’s year is divided into seasons which mark various times and events in the story of our salvation and of Jesus’ life and ministry. One of the ways we mark the various seasons is by changing the colour of the vestments, altar frontals and pulpit and lectern falls we use in church. We use the colour purple, for example, to indicate our sorrow for sin during the penitential seasons of Advent and Lent. We use white for celebratory seasons such as Easter and Christmas, and to show the special celebratory nature of Easter Day and Christmas Day, we might use gold vestments and decorations. We also use colours to mark particular days, such as red for Pentecost or for martyrs, white for saints or blue for the Blessed Virgin Mary. For most of the year though, we use green, and this is used to denote what the Church refers to as ‘Ordinary Time’. Ordinary Time, which is sometimes also called the ‘Green Season’, is the time of the Church’s year when we’re celebrating our salvation and our Lord’s life and ministry in general terms rather than celebrating any part of those things or event in them in particular. Today, although it’s not the last Sunday in Ordinary Time, is the last Sunday of the year when we will use green vestments and decorations. Next Sunday we will use white to mark the feast day or festival of Christ the King and then Ordinary Time for this year will come to an end and we will change to purple and start a new   Church year as the season of Advent begins.

Despite the impression people may have from the Advent calendars they see in shops, the season of Advent doesn’t necessarily start on 1^st December. Advent always begins four Sundays before Christmas Day. Neither is Advent about eating a piece of chocolate every day before Christmas Day. Advent is the time of the Church’s year when we prepare to celebrate the Incarnation of the Son of God, the coming into the world of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. So, in the Church’s readings during Advent, we hear about the prophets who foretold his birth, we hear about John the Baptist who was sent to prepare the way for the Lord, and we hear the story of the Annunciation when the archangel announced to Mary that she was to be the mother of the Lord. Whatever the readings during Advent are though, the theme that runs throughout the season, the Advent motif, is the call to be awake, to stay alert and watch, so that we will be ready to meet the Lord when he comes. And, as we come towards the end of Ordinary Time, we see something of that Advent motif breaking into our readings today.

In our reading from 1 Thessalonians, St Paul tells us that the ‘Day of the Lord’ will come suddenly and without warning, at a time when we least expect it. And, because no one will be able to escape from the Lord on that day, we’re urged to be the ‘children of the light’ and ‘of the day’ that we’re called to be, so that the Day of the Lord may not ‘surprise’ or ‘overtake us like a thief’ and St Paul tells us that to do this we must not ‘fall asleep’ or to ‘go on sleeping’ as other people do, but to ‘stay awake and sober’.

To be the people we’re called to be as children of the light and of the day, of course, means to be good disciples of Christ, and this is what St Paul is urging us to be in this reading. And in urging us not to sleep, but to stay awake and sober he’s telling us that to be the good disciples we’re called to be, we have to ready, at all times, to do what Jesus told us to do, to be about the Lord’s work. And this links to the Gospel, and the parable of the talents.

For us, today, a talent is an ability or skill, but that’s not what the word meant in Jesus’ day. To be honest, we’re not really quite sure exactly what Jesus was referring to by ‘talent’ in this parable because, in biblical times, a talent could either have been a weight or a unit of currency. As a weight, usually of gold or silver, it’s thought a talent was the equivalent of 33kg of 72lbs. As currency, a talent was the equivalent of 6,000 denarii. So, given that Jesus’ speaks of 1 denarius as the wage for one day’s labour, 1 talent was what a labourer could expect to earn in 16 years of work. But, whichever of these Jesus meant, he was taking about large amounts, even when he spoke about the servant who was given one talent. And when it comes to the meaning of the parable, we can quite easily substitute our understanding of the word ‘talent’ for what it meant in Jesus’ day, without changing the meaning.

It’s clear from the parable that, whatever we have been given by the Lord, we’re expected to use it in his service. If we do, we’ll be rewarded by the Lord when he returns. If we don’t use what the Lord has given us, we can’t expect any reward when he returns. It’s made clear in the parable too, that whatever we do for the Lord is enough, so long as it’s commensurate with what we’ve been given, because the reward for the servant who was given two talents and made two more was the same as for the servant who’d been given five talents and made five more. And, when we consider what a talent meant in Jesus’ day, it’s also clear from the parable that whatever we’ve been given by the Lord, is more than enough, even if it’s only one talent.

There’s no doubt that we all have talents of one sort or another that we’re called to use in the Lord’s service and could use in the Lord’s service. What we have to do is make sure that we do use them, and use them in the right way, because if we don’t, then we might as well simply bury them in the ground for all the good they’re going to do us on the day when the Lord calls us to give an account of what we’ve done with the talents he entrusted to us.

I’m sure we all do try to use our talents in the right way but, because we don’t know when the Lord will return, or at least when we’ll be called from this life to meet him and give that account of what we’ve done with our talents, we have a tendency not to use them in the way we should as often as we could. I don’t think our problem is so much towards wickedness, of deliberately burying our talents in the ground by not using them, but of laziness. We let opportunities to use our talents in the Lord’s service slip by because we’d rather do something else instead. We perhaps think we can afford to do that because we’ll always have another opportunity to use our talents in the Lord’s service, forgetting the warning that the Lord will come suddenly, without warning and at a time when we least expect him. We miss opportunities to use our talents for the Lord because we don’t take to heart that Advent call to stay awake to be alert and watch and so we’re not ready to meet the Lord, whether that be when we meet him face to face, or when we meet him in other people.

That happens in so many ways. One, perhaps rather amusing, incidence of this I remember very well happened when a parish priest I know gave notice of the Christmas Carol service in the parish, only to be told by almost the entire female section of the choir that there couldn’t be a Carol Service on that date because they wanted to go and see The Chippendales, a group of what we might call exotic male dancers, who were performing locally on that night. And when the parish priest suggested that the ladies of the choir might be getting their priorities a bit mixed up, they replied that he could always change the Carol Service to another night. One wonders what the ladies of the choir would have said had the Lord asked them to give an account of how they’d used their talents, that night!

That is just one example of disciples of Christ failing to use their talents in his service because they wanted to do something else instead, and thought it didn’t really matter because they could always use their talents in his service another time. But there are so many ways in which we all do this. How many times have people not come to church to worship the Lord on a Sunday or on some major festival of the Church because they wanted to watch a football match or the continuation of a story in a soap opera on the TV, or because they wanted to go out socialising? How many times have PCC members, for example, missed meetings for the same reasons? How many times have Christians not helped someone when they could have done, or not helped as much as they could have done because they were too busy with their own affairs or with enjoying themselves and have put those things first?

Christians very often do these kinds of things, even though we’re warned repeatedly through the Scriptures, not to do them. And, in my experience, Christians often do these things because of what might be called laziness; they can’t be bothered to do what they know they should have done because they think they’ll always get another chance to do it. So, if they didn’t go to church well, they can always go next Sunday, and they can go to that festival of the Church, next time. If they missed a meeting well, they’ll find out what went on anyway, and they can always go to the next meeting. If they didn’t help that person or that cause, they might feel a bit guilty, but not too much, because there’ll always be another person to help and another cause to contribute to. But if the coronavirus, the lockdowns and the restrictions on our lives we’ve gone through this year, and are still going through, have done anything, they’ve surely reminded us of the fact that we can’t take tomorrow for granted. They’ve reminded us that we can’t fail to do what we should do now simply because we think we can do it another time. They’ve reminded us that there isn’t always a next time and so, hopefully, they’ve reminded us that we need to do what we should, whenever we can, while we still can.

In essence, that is the meaning of the Advent call to stay awake, stay alert and watch for the Lord. The Advent call is to be on the lookout for ways and opportunities to use our talents in the Lord’s service and, when we see them, to make the most of them, in full awareness that we might not get another chance. It’s a call, and a warning, that breaks into our readings today and one that we’ll be reminded of throughout the season of Advent. We all know the secular custom of making New Year’s resolutions. Advent marks the start of the Church’s New Year so let’s make obedience to the Advent call one that we resolve to make and keep so that, when we meet Lord, we’ll be able to give a good account of what we’ve done with whatever talents we’ve been given.

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for the 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (2 before Advent) here.