Saturday, November 29, 2025

Advent 1


St. Paul gives what seems like reasonable advice:
if you believe a day of judgment is coming,
even if you don’t know exactly when,
it is probably a good idea 
to quit the orgies and drunkenness,
the promiscuity and lust,
the rivalry and jealousy.
In light of coming judgment, it is simply prudent 
to stop acting like a self-indulgent spoiled brat
and start acting like a responsible adult.
As the bumper sticker says,
“Jesus is coming. Look busy.”

But Jesus paints a picture 
that is slightly less reasonable;
Jesus paints a picture in which 
the day of judgment comes unexpectedly 
upon those who are acting
like responsible and respectable adults:
eating and drinking,
marrying and giving in marriage,
planting fields and grinding flour.
Everyone is responsibly and respectably 
engaged in the concerns of daily life,
and yet one is taken and the other left.
Which suggests that being his follower
is about something more 
than being a respectable and responsible adult.

Don’t get me wrong,
for the most part I am in favor
of people acting like responsible adults,
at least when they are actually adults,
chronologically speaking.
I want the adults in my life to act the part:
I want my students, young though they are,
to begin to take on adult responsibilities;
I want elected officials and other public figures
to speak and act like adults;
I want the grown-ups at Thanksgiving
not to air their childishly petty gripes,
whether personal or political.
And I think the notion of “respectability”
is not some invention of “the man”
to keep people in their place…
well, at least not entirely.
In general, I think that things
like marriage and employment,
moderate consumption
and mutually beneficial collaboration,
are better for society 
than orgies and drunkenness,
promiscuity and lust,
rivalry and jealousy.

But let’s not confuse respectability
with following Jesus,
because following Jesus  
is something wild and dangerous,
something strange and unsettling.
We follow Jesus out of the conviction 
that God has lived among us in the flesh, 
has come to share in our fallen human condition
in what Bishop Eric Varden calls
the “incursion of glory into trauma.”
We should strip ourselves of orgies and drunkenness,
promiscuity and lust, rivalry and jealousy
not in order to don a cloak of respectability,
but in order to clothe ourselves in Christ,
the crucified and risen savior:
a garment far more outlandish and implausible
than anything human ingenuity can devise.
Respectability tells you 
to plan prudently for the future;
Jesus tells you that the future is unplannable,
and that the day of the Lord will come
like a thief in the night.
Respectability tells you 
to get a good night’s sleep;
Jesus tells you to stay up late
awaiting his arrival.
Respectability tells you
to eat and drink in moderation;
Jesus invites you to feast 
on the bread of immortality
and become drunk
with the wine of the Spirit.

From the perspective of Jesus,
the respectable are no more likely 
than the disreputable
to be ready for the eruption 
of the reign of God into their lives.
Indeed, during Jesus’ earthly ministry
it was often the disreputable,
the sinners and tax collectors,
the prostitutes and lepers,
who were most responsive to him,
most anxious to welcome him.
Perhaps, unlike the respectable,
they were free from the illusion
that being a responsible adult
would secure them a place in God’s kingdom.
Perhaps it was easier for them,
who could make no claim to righteousness, 
to become like the children
to whom Jesus says the kingdom belongs.
Perhaps they were readier to be surprised,
readier for the wildness and danger that comes
with following Jesus,
readier to lose their lives for his sake
so that they might find them again.

Respectable responsibility, 
on the other hand,
has a stake in the world as it is.
Even if we want the world to be a better place,
we tend to think of ways in which we might work
to gradually improve things over time,
ways in which we might rationally arrange things
so that human foibles might be mitigated,
ways in which others might be brought into
the circle of our respectable responsibility.
And, again, there is really nothing wrong with this,
unless we think that it somehow gives us
mastery over our fate,
control over our destiny,
a plan for building God’s kingdom.
Because Jesus comes to tell us
that however much you plan,
however meticulously you game out scenarios,
“you do not know on which day your Lord will come.”
The kingdom of God does not arise 
from respectable responsibility,
but comes crashing into our lives,
and all we can do in the end
is to remain expectantly awake
so as not to miss its arrival.

We do not know on which day our Lord will come.
What we do know, as John Henry Newman put it, is that
“Time is short, death is certain, and eternity long” (Serm. VIII.10).
This is true for both the respectable and the disreputable.
So let us love the world as God loves the world,
who sent his Son to be its savior,
but let us hold loosely to our worldly plans and hopes,
so that we might be ready to greet the Lord
when he appears in glory,
ready to cast aside our cloaks of respectability
and clothe ourselves in him and him alone.
And on that day, 
may God, who is merciful,
have mercy on us all.