Matthew 24:36-44; Advent I; What Kind of Advent THIS year?

"But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39 and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41 Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42 Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43 But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."

I. Introduction--Understanding and Embracing Paradox

We begin our Advent reflections with a paradox. On the one hand Scripture tells us in general, and this passage specifically, that the coming of Christ is shrouded in mystery and uncertainty. "The Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour" (v. 44). On the other hand there is, in the church year, nothing so certain as Advent. We know, just as certainly as we know the source of our paycheck this month, that Advent is coming and Christmas will be here. And, if we don't plan very well for them, our job may be jeopardized. We have no doubt about it. So, the Scripture for the morning stresses the unexpected nature of the coming of the Son of Man but we expect it as surely as we expect day to dawn tomorrow. Our ability to deal with Advent in a theologically and psychologically satisfying manner rests on our ability to tease out the two sides of this paradox and then, as we are able, to "resolve" it. One of the ironies of the Lectionary this year is that the verse that, in my mind, helps us "resolve" or begin to unfold the paradox is two verses after our reading ends. But I will get into all of these things in this and the next essay.

In order to explore this paradox (for paradoxes, like labyrinths, are meant to be explored), I first will talk about the expected side of Advent/Christmas; then, by examining the text for the morning, the unexpected part of it; then I will end by pointing you to Matt. 24:46, where the paradox is, if not resolved, at least reduced.

II. Expected Things: A Child's Christmas in .....

Every person's experience of Advent/Christmas is slightly different, but certain common themes emerge from talking to people. There is fun, food, community, red sweaters, extra meetings and services, and, oh yes, the memories. We expect these things each year, and we look forward to them.

Advent is a special time of kindled memories. Our memories can be as life-giving as a deep draught of fresh water after a workout or as debilitating as an serious injury. As I get older, I tend to separate the memories into what I call my "family of origin" memories and my "adult family" memories. Sometimes these are melded indeed, but they remain distinct for me. I will give two brief stories here of both fun and painful memories, because they always return when a new Advent rolls around. I expect it.

First, the fun memory. It comes from my time of raising children. I was at a worship service during Advent with my wife and two children. The kids were probably 14 (girl) and 9 (boy) at the time. You need to know that it took place about 1996 or 1997, when Nebraska football was dominating the national scene. You also need to know that we had just moved back to Oregon after six years in Kansas. We were sitting in our pew at church, and the pastor told us to pass the peace to our neighbors. We all stood up, turned around and did so. Behind us was a row of women, mostly in their 70s, arrayed in colorful red sweaters befitting the season. After we extended the peace of Christ to all, we sat down and my son, in dead seriousness, whispered to me, "Dad, look, they are all Nebraska fans." I could barely concentrate on anything for the rest of the service.

Then, a more debilitating memory, this time from my family of origin. I grew up in a family of four boys in the late 1950s and 1960s in the Eastern United States. My dad had a good professional job in New York City, and we lived in a comfortable Connecticut suburb. But, each year about Dec. 1, when we were just getting our hearts set on Christmas, my mother spoke the same refrain, "Well, don't get your hopes up. It will be a lean Christmas this year." I hear her saying that as clearly as I hear my son intoning his line. In fact, when I was a child, I probably really couldn't differentiate between a lean and a generous Christmas; all I really wanted, come to think of it, were a few things that didn't add up to many dollars. But for some reason (I think I am becoming clearer on it now), my mother had to tell us it that it would be a "lean" Christmas. For many years that one statement tended to dampen my eagerness for Christmas. Even into adulthood, I found myself tending to downplay the importance of Christmas because, after all, it was just a "lean" time.

Since our life, in large part, consists of our memories and what we do with them, my life as I approach Advent consists of these memories. These memories exist, however, in the certain context's of Advent's coming. They automatically come to me and I live in their thrall for a while, before returning to my "senses" today. They are part of the predictable quilt of Advent/Christmas.

But that isn't the end of the story. We haven't yet begun with the text for the morning, so let's explore the other end of the paradox--the unexpected nature of Advent.

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