I get up early most Wednesdays. These days it is very dark when I get up early. I walk the dog in the dark, grab a bowl of cereal, and set out for our congregation's morning Matins service.
We hold Matins in our small chapel, around the corner from the main sanctuary. A small group of people, mostly retired, gather every Wednesday at 8:00 a.m. to sing and pray together.
This morning when I stood in front of them, I noticed that I had not taken down off of the walls last Wednesday's confirmation lesson. There were some simplified scripture passages on the walls, all part of our lesson on Isaiah last week. We heard the vision from Isaiah 2 of peace on God's holy mountain, of the nations streaming to Israel, turning their weapons into tools for farming. We lit candles and listened and we also looked around at the walls.
In bright markers, some simple phrases were written: "Death Will Be No More" "God Will Wipe Away Every Tear From Our Eyes" "There Will Be No More War" "Pain Will Be No More." "Weapons of War Will be Transformed into Farm Implements."
It was not great art. Just butcher paper and masking tape and printed words. Visions. Some of the things we hope for. Someday.
I had cleaned up the candles, but I had forgotten to take the papers off the walls.
I explained to the worshipers our lesson last week. I said I would make sure to take the paper down soon.
"That's all right," they said, looking around. "You can leave it up for awhile.
The home of God is among mortals. The handwriting is on the wall.
Showing posts with label eschatology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eschatology. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Monday, December 2, 2013
On the First Day of Advent
I consider the word "eschatology."
It's not a word I use in everyday conversation. Sunday's lessons were all over 'eschatology', though I can tell you now that no one used the "E" word. Not even once.
The first time I heard the word was in high school. I was going through my first wave of serious religious doubt, and I tried to calm my anxiety by reading books about Jesus from the religion section of the public library. I know, it was a weird idea, right? But many of the writers said that the "historical Jesus" was an "eschatological prophet", whatever that meant.
Later I learned that "eschatological" means "about last things." To consider eschatology is to consider where we are going to end up, what the last page of the story is going to say, what is the climax and the denouement of history. Are we going around in endless circles, or is there a plot, a story, with twists and turns and lessons learned: a final reckoning? What do you say?
So we begin advent with this sense that we are waiting for something, that there is an End point somewhere Out There.
But today was the first Sunday of Advent, and we do know that we are waiting. We are counting down the Sundays until Christmas, and the days until Christmas. There are candles to light that will help us to count, and there are Advent calendars too. Some of them have chocolate, and some of them have stickers.
We unveiled a countdown clock this morning at worship. 23 days, 13 hours,and innumerable minutes before Christmas, was what it said. I found it difficult to look away. The minutes were ticking away. I should be doing something. The time is short, after all.
It's a great visual aid, useful on many levels. The time is short, after all. But I can't help thinking that Christmas is not really the end point. Christmas is a way station, a still point, an inn with a manger and a baby we can hold. But the dream, the vision, the end point, the last page is this: the place where God will wipe away every tear from our eyes, where the nations will come to feast, where the lame will leap for joy.
Christmas is not the end. Christmas is the beginning, the beginning of God-with-us.
Advent is before the beginning. It is the pause before you begin. It is the breath you hold, the time before the downbeat.
Advent is not the journey. God is with us on the journey. All the way until the last page. Advent is that moment right before you say something, and you don't know what to say, and then you realize that God must give you words. And then, you wonder if God will give you the words, and you stand there exposed and uncomfortable.
And then you say, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me."
It's not a word I use in everyday conversation. Sunday's lessons were all over 'eschatology', though I can tell you now that no one used the "E" word. Not even once.
The first time I heard the word was in high school. I was going through my first wave of serious religious doubt, and I tried to calm my anxiety by reading books about Jesus from the religion section of the public library. I know, it was a weird idea, right? But many of the writers said that the "historical Jesus" was an "eschatological prophet", whatever that meant.
Later I learned that "eschatological" means "about last things." To consider eschatology is to consider where we are going to end up, what the last page of the story is going to say, what is the climax and the denouement of history. Are we going around in endless circles, or is there a plot, a story, with twists and turns and lessons learned: a final reckoning? What do you say?
So we begin advent with this sense that we are waiting for something, that there is an End point somewhere Out There.
But today was the first Sunday of Advent, and we do know that we are waiting. We are counting down the Sundays until Christmas, and the days until Christmas. There are candles to light that will help us to count, and there are Advent calendars too. Some of them have chocolate, and some of them have stickers.
We unveiled a countdown clock this morning at worship. 23 days, 13 hours,and innumerable minutes before Christmas, was what it said. I found it difficult to look away. The minutes were ticking away. I should be doing something. The time is short, after all.
It's a great visual aid, useful on many levels. The time is short, after all. But I can't help thinking that Christmas is not really the end point. Christmas is a way station, a still point, an inn with a manger and a baby we can hold. But the dream, the vision, the end point, the last page is this: the place where God will wipe away every tear from our eyes, where the nations will come to feast, where the lame will leap for joy.
Christmas is not the end. Christmas is the beginning, the beginning of God-with-us.
Advent is before the beginning. It is the pause before you begin. It is the breath you hold, the time before the downbeat.
Advent is not the journey. God is with us on the journey. All the way until the last page. Advent is that moment right before you say something, and you don't know what to say, and then you realize that God must give you words. And then, you wonder if God will give you the words, and you stand there exposed and uncomfortable.
And then you say, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me."
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