‘Everybody Knows It's Coming Apart’

ACROSS THE UNITED STATES, people will soon be preparing for Thanksgiving. We’ll name what we’re grateful for and then, in an ironic turn, let “Black Friday” convince us we need more. “Cyber Monday” will catch all the credit cards that made it, un-maxed, through the weekend. “Giving Tuesday” lets us pay the virtue toll to keep spending guilt-free on the yet-to-be-named following Wednesday. Whew! The consumerist drive in November and December makes the temporality of liturgical living difficult. But let’s try. November marks the end of both Ordinary Time and the church year. Ordinary Time is the day-in, day-out rhythm of everyday life as we await Christ’s second coming. In these final weeks, we’re not quite waiting on Christ, then — as we do during Advent — so much as we’re preparing ourselves to wait.

Come Advent, the scripture readings will be filled with anticipatory hope. But, as the old church year ends, the passages are full of anxiety and dread. The Hebrew Bible selections spotlight the escalating threat of the coming judgment. Paul’s letters pour out end times panic. Or, as songster Leonard Cohen put it, “Everybody knows it’s coming apart.” In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus forces us to ponder which side we are on. It’s not easy to sit with all this. I want to skip over to Advent hope (or even Christmas joy). But I invite us to hospice the old year’s death throes before welcoming new life at the stable door.

November 5

How to Say ‘No’

Micah 3:5-12; Psalm 43; 1 Thessalonians 2:9-13; Matthew 23:1-12

COUNTLESS MENTAL HEALTH memes suggest we avoid giving a guilt-ridden list of reasons whenever we need to say “no” to a request. Too often — particularly for anyone who is already socially marginalized — these panicked justifications arise because we’re scared of offending, looking lazy, or missing further opportunities. Such panic is often justified! But it can also use the minutia of others’ expectations to distract us from what God is calling us to do.

Paul did not embody such social marginalization, as he was wont to share (see Philippians 3:4-14). Still, given that most scholars agree his letters to the church at Thessalonica were among his earliest, I wonder if Paul’s got some early-career self-justification happening in 1 Thessalonians 2:9-13. Perhaps he mentions his extensive “labor and toil” and how he works “night and day” to not “burden any of [them]” (verse 9) to combat rumors he might be a charlatan. Or maybe he is “urging and encouraging” and, even, “pleading” that they’ll live lives “worthy of God” (verse 12) because he doesn’t quite trust them yet either. Paul and the Thessalonians are figuring each other out, testing their new relationship in light of this new faith — and Paul wants to ensure that everyone is on the same page.

However, panicked maintenance of the “same page” makes it difficult to hear each other’s stories. It can bolster groupthink, settling for the false affection of assimilation, rather than the hard-won intimacy of working through difference. This kind of intimacy allows us to say “no” without justifications so that we can say a larger “yes” without any limitations.

November 12

Be Prepared!

Amos 5:18-24; Psalm 70; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13

MUSICAL VILLAINS ALWAYS get the best songs — especially Disney villains. Despite these New Testament passages that focus on the arrival of Jesus, the true king, I still hear the voice of Jeremy Irons as Scar, The Lion King’s false king. You know the tune: “Be prepaaaared!” Unfortunately, Paul and the Thessalonians don’t yet know how to prepare. Believing Jesus’ return is imminent, they don’t want to be “uninformed” (1 Thessalonians 4:13) about the implications of this return. They haven’t yet learned that to “be prepared” for Jesus’ return requires them to focus on everyday faithfulness rather than the big picture. They also don’t know how long they might have to wait.

In Matthew 25, the character of the bridegroom may appear awfully rude to modern readers. But it would have been normal in the ancient world for bridegrooms to get caught up in wedding day negotiations. The difference between the foolish and wise bridesmaids isn’t that the foolish have fallen asleep while the wise keep watch. No, they all fall asleep (verse 5). But the wise ones doze off with their oil lamps topped up for the night (verse 9). In other words, the wise ones anticipate the groom’s tardiness.

So, as Paul assures the Thessalonians that the second coming’s metaphysical implications actually do make sense, I instead want to assure Paul that it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t. “You’re going to be waiting much longer than you expect,” I want to tell him, “So, focus on everyday acts of faithfulness rather than cosmic questions. Jesus isn’t waiting until we’re ready; he’s waiting until he is.”

November 19

A Parable for the Trapped

Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18; Psalm 90:1-12; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 25:14-30

TOO MANY PROSPERITY GOSPEL preachers use the “parable of the talents” in Matthew 25 to condone unjust investment practices. On the other hand, too many exhortations to “use the gifts God gives us for good” feel naive in the face of the slave master’s brutality in the story (verses 24-30). The former interpretations cast this “master” as God — his going and coming symbolizes how Jesus’ going and coming relates to God’s kingdom. The latter note that the master’s willingness to abuse others for his own financial gain means he can’t possibly represent Jesus. Both approaches focus on the meaning of the talents and on who to cast in the lead role.

When I approach this ancient parable for contemporary wisdom, it’s the abusive economic systems that enslave and entrap those living within them that stands out. No one can secure their own future without hurting another. No one can protect another without threatening their own survival. It’s impossible to do the right thing, unless you define “the right thing” as getting what you can while helping the rich get richer — which surely wasn’t what Jesus meant. As someone trying — and failing — to “do the right thing” within systems of global capitalism, I often feel like Paul and the Thessalonians: doing nothing because I can’t figure out how to do good. This parable is for those trapped in systems that make it impossible to do good. It doesn’t afford the luxury of answers; parables rarely do. Rather, it asks us to journey with it to find our way — it’s our companion, perhaps, more than our guide.

November 26

Deeper Into Darkness

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Psalm 95:1-7; Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31-46

I DON'T USUALLY grieve celebrity deaths. But on Nov. 7, 2016, I shed a few tears for Canadian prophet-poet Leonard Cohen. I didn’t want to hear his hopeful “crack in everything” that lets the light in or even his love as a “cold and broken hallelujah.” Rather, I turned to “Everybody Knows” — his story of society’s unrelenting brokenness, complete with resignation, wry humor, and refusal of hope. The Great Judgment in Matthew 25 always makes me wonder: Am I a sheep or a goat? Nobody knows where they stand in Jesus’ story. In Cohen’s story, everybody knows where they stand; we just don’t want to admit it. We’ve all “got this broken feeling / like [our] father or [our] dog just died.” Something’s wrong. We don’t know what. Cohen helps me face the dark clouds gathering at the edges of faith. Not to escape them but, rather, to find God in them.

After multiple plays of “Everybody Knows,” I switched to “You Want It Darker,” the title track of his final album. Here, Cohen goes all the way into the darkness, making it darker still — even rejecting God (or, at least, divine idols). Then Cohen sings the Hebrew prayer, “Hineni, hineni [‘Here I am’] / I’m ready, my Lord.” Not hope but, rather, a faith resigned. We end the liturgical year, completing a month of readings filled with anxiety and dread. Before we turn to Advent, though, what if we went all the way into the darkness where Divinity dwells? Would we find the courage to say: “I’m ready, my Lord”?