Sermon, 11/27/2022: Last Year in Review

1 Advent

Psalm 122; Isaiah 2:1–3; Romans 13:11–14; Matthew 24:36–44

You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.
Romans 13:11

One week ago to the day, we celebrated in this holy place the Feast of Christ the King.  Liturgically, we acknowledged that the Christ, whose birth we shall recall in our liturgy on Christmas Day, had resumed his place in the eternal Trinity of God, Son, and Holy Spirit.  We sang hymns which extoll the reign of Christ as King of Glory.  But then I inserted, with the aid of our talented organist and violinist, the hymn “Lift high the Cross, the love of Christ Proclaim.”  I did so, because that hymn, like many others in our musical repertoire, reminds us that Christ, in whom we believe, is not somewhere up there or out there, but is even now here among us.  Following the elevation of Christ to King, but only by a few days, we as a nation celebrated Thanksgiving Day.  We gathered in as many different settings as we are as a nation: Christian, Muslim, Jew, Bahai, Buddhist, Mormon, Hindu, Atheist, Agnostic.  And the purpose of such a holiday, while rooted in a Judeo-Christian theology, was to reflect on how interdependent we are, the one with the other.  And today, we who confess to follow Jesus of Nazareth, mark the beginning of a New Liturgical Year.  Today is First Day of Advent. 

In approximately two weeks, articles will appear in newspapers and periodicals, and pundits in other forms of media, but especially in television will begin their annual retrospective contribution to our common life.  At the very top of the list will be, of course, lengthy treatises on politics in our country, focusing on our mid-term elections.  Surely, next on the list will be war and the rumor of wars, as man’s inhumanity to man in the Middle East, Europe, Africa, South America, and Asia.  A few, an all too few articles or TV discussions will dare to lay before the public our own flaws, as we give lip service to solving problems not unique to the United States, but made all the more evident and painful, given our national claim to being the beacon of freedom and democracy for the rest of the world.

I wager that not even further down on the list of this “year in review” by magazines and talk show hosts, not even in our so-called Christian press and media, will we find a reflective essay of what accomplishments of this past year we might lay before the Prince of Peace, who laid out a plan for living a life patterned after his own earthly mission, so that we might “be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hours.” (Matt. 24:44)  During this period of reflection and preparation to recall the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, however enticing it may be to infantilize the birth of Jesus,  Holy Scripture cautions us against such flights of fantasy. 

Time does not allow me today to recount for you all the ways that you have sought to fulfill the dictum of Jesus of Nazareth that tells us to love God first and Neighbor as self.  Permit me, though, to remind you at least of one accomplishment in the Christian calendar year just ended.  A year ago today, on the First Sunday in Advent 2021, we began a new year, a new liturgical year, and where were we?  In the doldrums, perhaps dispirited, anxious, living a reality that seemed disconnected from a reality which was familiar.  We were living under the constant threat of a pandemic which had caused us alter how we lived our lives, a pandemic which had caused us to refrain from in-person celebration of Mass and the receiving of Holy Communion.   Thanksgiving Day 2021, which had just preceded the First Sunday of Advent, was observed also under that ominous cloud.  Our circles of celebration were small, limited to those who pre-tested prior to coming together. 

You may well ask me how I believe that under such adverse circumstance I believe that you have accomplished something which allows us, in our joint humanity, to appear before the throne of Almighty God.  As evidence of God’s concern for the created order, women and men shared their intelligence and concern for each other, and thereby discovered means of combatting and containing the spread of a deadly virus, and then shared that discovery with as many as were willing to accept their discovery.  Further, placing themselves at risk, women and men cared for others, who because of their own circumstance, often circumstances beyond their control, had no one to care for them.  When I read of these accomplishments, I am reminded of the many statements from Holy Writ, but especially found in the Epistle of James, who described himself as “a servant of God and the Lord Jesus Christ,” writing “to the twelve tribes dispersed throughout the world.” James wrote:

What good is it, my friends, for someone to say he has faith when his actions do nothing to show it?  Can that faith save him?  Suppose a fellow-Christian, whether man or woman, is in rags with not enough food for the day, and one of you says, ‘Goodbye, keep warm, and have a good meal,’ but does nothing to supply their bodily needs, what good is that?  So with faith; if it does not lead to action, it is by itself a lifeless thing.   (James 2:14 – 17)

Even in our darkest hour, people of faith did not despair.  Although not completely removed from the pandemic, I cannot forget the love and concern and care which you showed others, those closer to home, among whom were members of the parish not affected physically by COVID, but who because of restrictions were isolated.  Your telephone calls, your cards, your offers to shop for them, your contributions to social agencies which you undertook, not in order to check off a box, but because out of your own humanity, you recognized the humanity of others.   Last year, as we were restricted from in-person worship, we questioned, did we not, whether Advent would have meaning, because we knew that, given the fury of the Coronavirus, we would not be able to assemble and to hold traditional liturgical Christmas celebrations.  Advent came and went; Christmas was celebrated, but in a different guise. 

As we stand now at the Gate of Advent 2022, and review both the liturgical year just past and the secular year approaching its end, I offer a word out of our common national history which might support us, as we continue on our journey towards that peace which passes all understanding.  I commend to you the Proclamation of Thanksgiving, issued by the 16^th President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, on 3 October 1863.  Should you do so, you will discover not a word about American Exceptionalism.  Rather, you will sense the humility of a man upon whose shoulders lay the continuation of our nation and you will sense the faith of a man, for all his faults, believed in a supreme being whose will it is that all should dwell in peace and unity.   President Lincoln’s words, whether knowingly or unknowingly, connect our celebration of the reign of Christ and our life on earth.  His words point us to the future and echoes what the Apostle Paul voiced millennia prior:

You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.
Romans 13:11

AMEN

Excerpt from President Lincoln’s Proclamation of Thanksgiving—See
Rev. Clarence’s Open Letter of 11/28/22, or follow these link:
The History Place: Abraham Lincoln: https://www.historyplace.com/lincoln/thanks.htm
and
Abraham Lincoln Online:
https://www.abrahamlincolnonline.org/lincoln/speeches/thanks.htm