THE WORD 4 ev 1

Read Matthew 26 (click here for link)

It is a rather sobering coincidence that we will be reading the end of Matthew on the Eve of Christmas. However, while you might argue that on the one hand, juxtaposing in this way the two greatest celebrations in the Church year—Easter and Christmas—heightens the meaning of both; somehow, I don’t really feel it. Despite the Christmas parties and numerous cookies lying around the office, Matthew’s passion account keeps lingering in my thoughts even when I should be thinking Christmas thoughts (and thinking about my Christmas day sermon!). Unfortunately, reading the Easter story at this time of year seems a lot like watching The Grinch Stole Christmas.

But thankfully Christ’s death was not the end. Death is not the last word: as at both birth and resurrection, the creation's deep darkness is scattered by God's light. On Christmas day, we will read in church, "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” We will hear how a particular moment in time and place becomes the "fullness of time." But we know this already. We have heard both ends of Matthew (also Mark, Luke and John) many times over. How many times can our faith be bookended by birth and death until we fail to really pay attention anymore?

It might take munching on a few more icing laced cookies to figure this one out. Or maybe some little fudge squares, instead!

Perhaps we might remind ours elves that despite the nearness of Christmas, we are not there yet. Advent is still upon us. We are still in Easter, even on December 22! Our Lord was crucified and was dead and buried. He rose and appeared to witnesses, and we testify of this and point to his return. But when will that be? How long must we wait? Much like the Pharisees in our text today, the world begins to plot all around us; the nations so furiously rage. Sin and immorality are everywhere, but even worse, there doesn’t always seem to be anything we can do about it.

I was considering such thoughts yesterday evening, as I made a quick run to Walgreens to pick up an overlooked grocery item. It was dusk outside, and the inky-black outline of two story houses and twiggy live oak trees made all the world seem grotesque and empty (Well... maybe not the whole world, but at least West Oaks Drive). In the car, the radio news was on and, as usual, it was announcing the same old story—the same old account of sin’s apparent victory over good, darkness over light. The economy, the wars in the Middle East, politics, a pro-golfer’s frequent adultery…

But as I drove, I was filled with a vision of hope; for on either side of me, beneath those live oak branches, in gaudy disarray, were countless yards filled with Christmas lights, each little bulb shining brightly. I was reminded that this is our Christmas task—waiting in the dark aftermath of Easter for the coming of the next Christmas. Our Lord has risen and ascended in to heaven. But he will return. Like the ten virgins from yesterday’s reading and the disciples outside Gethsemane in today’s reading, we must not fall asleep nor can our light grow dim. The bridegroom is near. The birthday we celebrate in a few days the birthday of the light of the world.

As I drove back from Walgreens, with red, yellow, green, and the new bluish-white LED lights shining all around, I couldn’t help but hear the strains of the Halleluiah Chorus. Advent is almost over. The fullness of time is near!

Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah! King of kings and Lord of lords. He shall reign forever and ever. Halleluiah!

Pastor Aaron