RCL Advent 2B
4 December 2011
Saint Faith’s Anglican Church
Vancouver BC
Focus Text:
2 Peter 3.8-15a
8
But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a
thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. 9
The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is
patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to
repentance. 10
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass
away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the
earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed.
11
Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons
out you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness, 12
waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the
heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with
fire? 13
But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth,
where righteousness is at home.
14
Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found
by him at peace, without spot or blemish; 15
and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.
Ever since I
was very young, I have been interested in history. My library is filled with histories,
historical fiction and biographies, some of them read more than once. It is very rare to find me without a book on
my person or nearby or on my iPad and you'd be pretty safe to bet that it would
be something historical.
Being
interested in history means that I have been known to some of my friends as a
master of trivia. My friends tend to
avoid asking me any question that might quickly become a short lecture on the
relevant history.
At various
points in my life I have delved into the history of that period of western
European history that we call the Dark and Middle Ages. Although they are long past, they continue to
cast a long shadow on contemporary experience.
Let me give you an example.
Towards the
end of my curacy in my first parish in Colorado, I received a call from a
priest in the western part of the state.
He asked if I would visit one of his parishioners who had been on a
business trip to Denver and had been suddenly stricken with a strangulated
hernia. The priest wanted me to deliver
the message that the man's family were on their way to Denver, a four-hour
drive at least, and that I was there to provide some pastoral care and support
before emergency surgery.
So off I went
with my hospital kit in hand: oil of the
sick to anoint the man and consecrated bread and wine for communion. I found the man's room quickly and was
assured that he was doing well, but surgery would take place within the hour.
I passed
along the message that I had been charged to deliver and then prayed with the
man, anointed him and gave him communion.
When an orderly appeared to tell us that he would soon be back to take
the man to surgery, I shook the man's hand and told him that I would be back
later that day or early in the morning to see how he was doing.
Just as I got
to the door, the man said, "Father, tell me why you really
came." I was a bit surprised, so I
simply repeated that I had been asked by his priest to visit and to make sure
that all was well. "That's not why
you really came," he said, "they've discovered cancer, haven't
they?" "No," I reassured
him, "you just have a strangulated hernia." "Priests don't come to the hospital for
strangulated hernias," he said, "they only come when people are
dying." "Well," I said,
"you're not dying and this priest comes to the hospital when a parishioner
needs stitches if he or she wants me to come!"
You see, it
was during the Dark and early Middle Ages that taking communion to the sick
moved away from being a regular aspect of the church's ministry with the sick
and became what we now call 'the last rites'.
To this day, in this parish as well as others in which I have served,
some Anglicans get very nervous if I offer to visit them in the hospital. Their antenna really shoot up if I offer to
anoint them and to bring them communion!
People say to me, "Well, that's very nice, but I'm not that
sick!" Anglican clergy are often
the last to know that their parishioners are in hospital.
One of the
legacies of the Dark and Middle Ages is an attitude that connects sickness with
dying and death. This legacy continues
to haunt contemporary North Americans so that it is difficult to talk about
dying and death in a rational manner.
One of the ways North American society avoids this rational conversation
is to be found in the growth of literature and films that feature zombies,
vampires, werewolves and ghosts. Another
way is the plethora of video games that allow the player to fight zombies and
other ghoulies and beasties, complete with plenty of blood and gore.
Although the
Dark and Middle Ages left us with this legacy, there is, however, another
legacy that is worth reviving from time to time. That legacy is the custom of reflecting on
death, judgement, heaven and hell, the four 'last' things, during Advent. It's true that our ancestors sometimes
reflected on these 'last' things in grotesque and dramatic ways, but there is
something to be said for reflecting on these things in more subdued way.
I raise this
with you today, because I am struck by the fact that our more morbid attitudes
toward the reality of dying and death have deflected us from a more mature
conversation.
•
Although
recent years have seen an increase in hospice care and programmes to assist
families with their loved ones in the final stages of life, we still have not
dedicated sufficient resources to support and care for those who are dying and
for those who love them.
•
While
the majority of British Columbians support organ donation, both from living and
deceased donors, the overwhelming majority of us have not enrolled as
donors. When the topic is raised in some
settings, people do get a bit squeamish and try to change the topic.
•
In
the Supreme Court of British Columbia a case has begun seeking to overturn to
the present law against assisted suicide and to establish new guidelines. While I have no intention of sharing my point
of view on this case, I do think that it is a significant conversation that we
need to have in as rational a manner as possible rather than the emotional
language that is sometimes used to shut the conversation down.
•
Recent
newspaper stories about suicide among young people remind us that bullying and
anti-homosexual attitudes continue to take a toll as victims choose death
rather than life.
These are not easy matters to discuss and perhaps even more
difficult to frame adequate public policy, but Christians have an obligation to
participate in the conversation and to offer wisdom.
The writer of
2 Peter was unafraid to raise the issues of death and judgement with his
audience. He reminded them that we all
will die and that we will all be held accountable for our actions. "Since all these things are to be
dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of
holiness and godliness . . . ? . . . [while] you are waiting for these things,
strive to be found by [God] at peace, without spot or blemish." Ponder your ending, he seems to say, so that
you may take care in your living.
About this
time of year we being to see advertisements for Dickens' 'A Christmas
Carol'. What I find ironic is that, one
hundred and fifty years after its publication, most people still don't
understand the story. We tell people not
to be 'Scrooges' when that is precisely what Dickens wants us to be: not the Scrooge of the beginning of the story
but the Scrooge at the end of the story.
Here is a man who, confronted with his past and present as well as the
immediate reality of his death, turns his life around, repents as John the
baptizer would say, to become the model of a person who truly understands the
Christmas message.
This is the
point of the story --- conversion --- conversion occasioned in part by the
contemplation of death and judgement. To
contemplate death and judgement during Advent is an invitation to consider how
our present lives embody the life of the Saviour whose birth we are preparing
to celebrate.
And the
judgement we contemplate is not to be confused with condemnation. What the author of 2 Peter, what John the
baptizer preached and what the Christian tradition has maintained at its best
moments is that God's judgement is the gracious and merciful assessment of our
lives. God's last word to us is not
'death' or 'abandonment' but 'life' and 'community'. "Why hasn't Christ come," ask the
people to whom 2 Peter is written.
"Because God is patient and wants everyone to be saved,"
responds the author. This is a message
of hope rather than despair, a message of graciousness rather than harshness.
My sisters
and brothers, as we continue in our Advent journey, let us reflect on the end
of life even as we prepare to celebrate the birth of God's Beloved. Let's join Scrooge and John the baptizer on a
journey that leads us to see how we might become more fully agents of God's
justice, steadfast love and humility in all the venues of our lives. Then we shall not be afraid to stand before
God and before all of creation to give an account of the stewardship of our lives.
Let us pray.
Almighty God,
give us grace to cast away the works of darkness
and put on the armour of life,
now in the time of this mortal life
in which your Son Jesus Christ
came to us in great humility;
that on the last day,
when he shall come again in his glorious majesty
to judge both the living and the dead,
we may rise to the life immortal;
through him who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
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