Preaching at Saint Mark's Church
The Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 28
15 November 2020
"The Day of the Lord"
Zephaniah 1:7,12-18
Psalm 90:1-8, (9-11), 12
1 Thessalonians 5:1-11
Matthew 25:14-30
INI
It is an odd coincidence that today, ten years ago, I preached my first sermon at Saint Mark’s Church as I began a term as Interim Rector. So it is with a great deal of joy that I return at this same time to speak and learn with you as we look at the readings for this Sunday. I can recall in my sermon at that time that I mentioned to you that we are in what I call Advent Shadow. The original season which originated in Gaul and then later in Spain and northern Italy was six weeks. Later it was reduced to five, then down to the four weeks that we know now. Some of the readings, however, remained the same – mirroring a darker pensive time that anticipated the second coming of Jesus. So, let’s take some time, during this period of waiting (Pandemic, Election, etc.) during our own time to see what our waiting as Christians might be like.
The readings for this day all seem to revolve around the notion of the Day of the Lord. A few words about that, first: The popular thought about the Day of the Lord in ancient times anticipated God’s intervention in human history, most particularly national history in which God would bring victory over enemies. That idea should not be unfamiliar to us in this day and age when political rhetoric seems to be centered on this notion that God would send some kind of messiah to rescue us from our sin (and here you substitute in your favorite or most despised social ill). The ancient prophets, however, found it necessary to disabuse people of their popular thought on the Day of the Lord. The prophet Amos wrote, “Woe to you who desire the day of the Lord! Why would you have the day of the Lord? It is darkness and not light.” Isaiah has a similar warning, “For the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up; and they shall be brought low.” Here he anticipates Luke’s version of the beatitudes with is blessings and its curses, and in Mary’s song, the Magnificat, “he has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.” It was, I guess, a great reversal – a pause during which all could rethink their relationships with both God and neighbor.
Zephaniah, the author of our first reading has a stunning beginning to his poem on the Day of the Lord. “Be silent before the Lord God! For the day of the Lord is at hand.” Whenever there is a liturgical direction to be silent for a time, a general nervousness sets in, for we are forced into our own thoughts and not the motions, thoughts, or words of others. We are bound to confront our own self. Zephaniah goes own, however, and does not see the hopeful richness of introspection. He suspects that there is something else that needs to be confronted. He thinks that the real thoughts of people are: “The Lord will not do good, nor will God do harm.” Zephaniah suspects an absence of God, at least in the hearts of people. I have often wondered in these days if there is indeed a great silence, a great absence of God. God, neither here nor there.
Why does Zephaniah envision such a day of darkness? He fears that Judah has not asked of God, has not sought from God, necessary spiritual gifts. Zephaniah pictures God searching for a faithful people. “I will search Jerusalem with lamps.” As I read the commentators on these oracles, many suspect that the thing that was keeping Judah from her relationship with God was her success, her abundance. Zephaniah warns them, “Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to save them.” This is a good warning for our own time. Perhaps our waiting during this time of illness and political chaos should be directed at what we really need to ask of God.
Which brings us to Paul and the Thessalonians. Paul wants his readers in the second lesson to forget about “the times and the seasons.” One can anticipate the coming of the Day of the Lord, but not know its particulars. It will come, as Paul says, “like a thief in the night.” Paul uses a wonderful light and darkness theme in his thoughts on the day of the Lord. He reminds the reader that they are children of the light, and therefore their waiting for the Day of the Lord needs to be informed by that notion. So, as we ask, like the Thessalonians, “What then shall we do?” we need to understand what is required of us as we wait, as we live life in expectation.
In last Sunday’s Gospel we read about the Virgins – those who prepared, and those who did not. The temptation here is to think badly of those who were ill prepared, and to lionize those that did. Paul takes a different tack as he looks at the question of how we ought to live during a period of waiting or expectation. Listen to this: “so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him.” It seems to be a more forgiving attitude than what we experienced in the parable. It allows for periods when we are less aware, when we are not being vigilant. Nevertheless, Paul pleads with us to keep and to be watchful. Watchful for what? On one level we need to be watchful for ourselves, for our own personal experience of the Day of the Lord. However, if we follow the great commandment, honor God, neighbor, and self, then our watchfulness will include those around us and their needs. That was Zephaniah’s advice when he writes in the second chapter, “Seek justice, seek humility.” That is how we ought to wait – with others.
Finally, there is another aspect to the waiting that we are invited to do as we anticipate the Day of the Lord. In the Gospel we read the parable about the servants who are left behind as the landowner (God) goes on a journey and is absent from them. The landowner endows them with wealth which he expects them to put to work – enabling more wealth. Usually, we look at this parable and our final thoughts and focus are on the servant who buried his endowment in the soil because he knew that the landowner “was a harsh man, reaping where he did not sow, and gathering where he did not scatter seed.” It’s a rather harsh judgment, but it would obtain for a great number of wealthy people both then and now. I think we ought to turn our attention to something else that may be affecting our ability to wait for the great Day of the Lord. That aspect is the absence of the landowner. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking or feeling that God is at a great distance both then, and now. In the midst of pestilence, and national doubt I strain to hear God’s voice, or to know God’s presence. That attitude is made even more acute with the absence of the Eucharist, and the Assembly that gathers around it and is made real within it. There is absence, and there are gifts that we have been given. Here it is helpful to understand the talents that are invested with the remaining servants as gifts – not necessarily money, but talent, wisdom, opportunity and the like. I am reminded of the attitude of the people that Zephaniah is writing about, “The Lord will not do god nor will he do harm.” In other words, the silence of God, God’s absence tempts us to disregard God’s will and way. If God is not looking, then we can become lazy about how we use the gifts that are given.
The wealth that we rejoice in is not our silver, gold, stocks, bonds, property, or investments. The gifts that are left to us are our redemption and salvation, and in addition to that, life itself. Psalm 90 has a lesson to teach us about all that God has given us and will continue to give us. “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” How will we use our days and the wisdom that God gives us for our own benefit and that of our neighbor? If God is quiet in our time, how have we been God’s voice and good news? We are, all of us, friend and enemy, loved one and stranger, we all wait in this time. Shall we then wait upon the God who sent the Son to save us, and shall we then love our neighbors as they wait as well? Let our actions and living be evidence of the great Day of the Lord. And let us begin, as Zephaniah suggests, with a great silence – a silence in which the Word of the Lord might be heard.
SDG
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