Trinity 11 13
“Look busy, the
boss is coming!” I don’t suppose there is anyone who hasn’t at some point
felt at least some sort of pressure when the boss turns up, however benevolent
he or she is. The fact is that our bosses have power over us - their judgement
might well make a difference to our lives.
Today’s Gospel reading seems to be tapping into that sort of
anxiety. “The Son of Man is coming.” The early Christians believed very
strongly that the end of the world was nigh, or at least that they were
approaching a turning point in history when God would show up in his world
dramatically to usher in a new age and a new kingdom. Jesus seems to have
shared that belief, and it was one that was common to other Jewish groups at
the time. Perhaps when you live under occupation, with manifest injustice all
around, it is almost inevitable that you will look forward to a time when
things will be different, and as far as Luke and his readers were concerned
that time was surely coming soon.
Their belief in an imminent dramatic cosmic intervention
might have been mistaken, but I think the message they proclaimed still has
something to say to us today. It reminds us of the truth that sudden change is
always on the cards. We never know how or when our lives might be turned upside
down, for good or ill. Read any newspaper, watch any TV news broadcast and that
is what you will see - things happening that the people concerned weren’t
expecting. Someone becomes the victim of crime, their property or even their
lives snatched away without warning. A nation is thrown into chaos by civil
war. A town is submerged under flood waters. Or perhaps the news is good. A
lottery win raises someone from rags to riches overnight, or a scientific
breakthrough brings healing to people who would otherwise have died.
If any of the people affected had known what was coming –
for good or ill - they would have at least tried to prepare for it. Those
overtaken by disaster would have locked their doors, sought safety, taken
notice of the political tides and currents.
Even those surprised by good news might have acted differently. The
lottery winner might have relaxed a bit rather than working all the hours there
were to provide for their old age. The person whose illness looked as if it
would cut their lives short might have chosen to invest more in the future they
were now going to live to see. If we knew what was coming, we would get ready
for it. The problem is that we don’t know. The only thing we can predict is
that life will be unpredictable.
We can’t control life, but we do have some power over the
way we deal with its surprises. I don’t believe that disasters are deliberately
sent to test us – a God who would purposely hurt his children isn’t one I want
to worship – but I do think that the random events of life reveal to us things
about ourselves which we couldn’t find out any other way, and for that reason
we can often, eventually, give thanks for them. They show us what we’re really
made of, what really matters to us, where our treasure lies. They strip us of
our illusions about ourselves. God may not have sent these things to us, but through
them, if we have eyes to see, God comes to us. To use the language of this
Gospel reading, the Son of Man appears, the boss turns up in these reality
checks in our lives.
And as I said earlier, that moment of judgement is something we might have decidedly mixed feelings about, just as we do when earthly bosses show up. For many people over the centuries, it was a terrifying prospect. Medieval churches often had vivid images painted on the walls of the day of judgement, with the blessed rising to heaven, while the damned were shovelled into the mouths of horribly imaginatively depicted demons, or tossed into seas of flame. “This could happen to you” was the message literally in your face every time you came to church. Fortunately we have moved on from those sort of ideas about God, at least officially, now. But my guess is that God as the wrathful judge still lingers in the depths of many people’s minds.. Fear once stirred up is hard to get rid of.
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| The Last Judgment by Lochner in the 15th century. |
The impression it leaves us with may be “look busy, the boss
is coming” but in reality its message is not about judgement but about generosity. It begins with
words which are often repeated in the Bible, “Do not be afraid”, words spoken
by the angel Gabriel to Mary and to the shepherds of Bethlehem, to the women
who come to the tomb after the resurrection, and again and again through his
ministry to his disciples. “Do not be
afraid”… Why? Because there is no cause to fear. “It is your Father’s good
pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Jesus adds. We don’t need anxiously to strive
to earn God’s favour – we have it anyway. Our only problem is that we don’t
trust that. Instead we place our trust in the wealth we heap up and the
possessions we acquire, hoping they will give us the security we crave. It is
an illusion, of course. As Jesus points out, the problem with earthly treasure
is that it is vulnerable to the wear and tear of life, and to being stolen by
others who are as insecure as we are.
This passage doesn’t promise, of course, that if we follow
Christ nothing bad will happen to us. How could Luke have said that when he
knew that Jesus would find himself on a cross, naked and in agony? What it
promises is that whatever we face in life, God will not desert us, and in that we
find security which is indestructible. This is “treasure in heaven” – not pie
in the sky when we die, but the knowledge that we are held in God’s hands here
and now, no matter what is happening to us. We learn that sort of trust by
actively choosing to focus on justice and peace for all, by loving others,
rather than anxiously building protective walls around ourselves, by investing
our energy, putting the treasure of our time and talents in places that really
matter, heavenly places, joining God at work in the world.
When Jesus tells his disciples that God is going to show up
in their lives unexpectedly he does not mean them to fear but to rejoice. That
is plain from the parable he tells them, a parable with a wonderful twist in
its tale. A master returns from his wedding banquet. Blessed are the slaves who
are alert and ready to let him in. Why? Because he – the master – will fasten
his belt, sit them down and serve them, says Jesus. They will have a share in
the banquet, be part of the rejoicing at his marriage, part of the joyful
future his marriage anticipates. Weddings in the Bible aren’t about romantic
love, they are symbols of a new age dawning – the next stage in the life of a
family or dynasty, a new kingdom – and that is what we are being reminded of
here. It is a radical, almost ridiculous image. The master becomes a servant,
and the slaves, usually just ignored and irrelevant, find themselves at the
centre of everything, pinching themselves to make sure it is really happening. Who wouldn’t want a boss like this, a boss
who serves, a boss who loves, a boss who heals, to turn up in their lives? Who
wouldn’t want to be part of this kingdom, part of this work?
What a tragedy it is
that this generous image of God has so often been obliterated by that of the
fearful, wrathful critic , looking for reasons to fail us in the tests of life.
It’s a tragedy because it is a perversion of the truth of the Bible, but it is
also a tragedy because it tends to paralyse us rather than motivating us. It
might be an effective way of scaring people into conformity, but it has never
done anything useful in building the kingdom of God, that place where the
humble are lifted up, the hungry fed and the outcast welcomed. Those things
take love to achieve, and you can never love fully if you are afraid. “Perfect
love casts out fear” says the Bible. (1 John 4.18)
There is a prayer I often use to begin my own private evening
prayer which comes from the Celtic tradition. It begins “Christ stands before
me and peace is in his mind”… I love it because at the end of a day when
perhaps I have struggled to get things done, worried about what I haven’t done,
wondered whether I have done things well enough, those words remind me of the
truth I need to hear. It’s not just that Christ stands before me – frankly that
might be a bit terrifying on its own – it is that when he looks at me and what
I have done that day he doesn’t do so with judgement in his mind, but with
peace. “Christ stands before me and peace is in his mind”… The day that is gone has been whatever it has
been – good, bad, indifferent. My life is what it is – good, bad,
indifferent. But whatever life is like
for me at that moment, Christ is in it, in its failures and broken places just
as much as in its successes. “Christ
stands before me and peace is in his mind…” His intention for me is peace, not
condemnation, just as it is for all of us – that healing peace that comes from
knowing we are loved and ultimately secure.
Today, as Christ stands before us at this Eucharist, as the
boss shows up here – what do we feel? What do we think is in his mind for us?
As we put the ups and downs of the past week into his hands, do we do so with
fear or with trust? Today God offers us unfailing treasure, in place of the
fallible comfort blankets we try to protect ourselves with. It is his good
pleasure to give us the kingdom. The only question is; will we let him?
Amen
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