Jeremiah 33:14-16
The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 15 In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. 16 In those days Judah will be saved, and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”
Luke 21:25-36
25 “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
29 Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30 as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. 32 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. 33 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
34 “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, 35 like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36 Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place and to stand before the Son of Man.”
Perhaps you’re familiar with Elf on the Shelf. Apparently it originated in 2005 with a book titled, “Elf on the Shelf: a Christmas Tradition”, which basically willed into being a tradition which didn’t actually exist. It was very clever and very successful. And now, in our home, we have little elf doll sitting glazy-eyed on a shelf. The whole idea is that this little elf is sent by Santa to be a silent observer of the children and to report back whether they’ve been naughty or nice. This is, as the new legend goes, how Santa knows what is happening in every home. The Elf on the Shelf has become loved by parents because, whenever the children begin to get out of line, you just remind them that they’re being watched. Judgment is coming. It just might be that Santa functions as a kind of gateway to imagining God. Of course, we eventually all leave Santa and his list behind, and while many Christians still hold to the equivalent of God’s nice and naughty list, the notion of a God who judges is becoming increasingly easy to leave behind as well.
When we’re children, we’re accustomed to being judged by authority, and it’s the prospect of escaping that authority which makes adulthood so appealing. Of course, we all discover as adults that there are yet more authorities to which you must submit, but we long to be free. I suppose this has always been true, but in this secular age we have rejected the notion that there is some outside authority by which we will be judged. At most we might freely choose to submit to an authority that we, personally, deem worthy - that epidemiologist, that yoga instructor, this pastor - but we bristle at the thought that there is some universal authority that applies to all. To the extent that we believe in truth, we tend to be relativistic about it. I have my truth and you have your truth, but one doesn’t make a claim on the other.
Even within the church, where we all ostensibly submit to the same authority, I imagine few of us really want to be held accountable or to hold others accountable. And not without reason: however things ought to work in theory, in actual practice those churches who hold one another to standards tend to be judgmental in precisely the sort of way that Jesus explicitly told not to be, and therefore to foster communities where people conceal rather than reveal, where the light is prevented from shining, where the truth is not prioritized. Not without justification, we are wary of anyone, any institution, who asserts authority over us, who presumes to render judgment.
In today’s Gospel reading we hear of someone who comes rendering judgment whether we like it or not. And this passage sure makes it sound like just about all of us aren’t going to like it. In the final apocalyptic day the most that we can hope is to have the strength to escape the worst of it and stand before the Son of Man. I’m assuming that none us like this picture. But I want to suggest that this is all very good news.
Judgment and apocalypse go together in the Christian imagination. The word apocalypse signifies a rupture in time, a finality, but this is because it more fundamentally means “revelation”. When the Son of man is revealed, the truth about all things will be revealed, what was hidden will be manifest, what was covered in darkness will be exposed to the light. This is a wonderful thing, but it’s also a terrible thing. It’s a wonderful thing because we should - should - delight in the truth, we should rejoice when the truth prevails. But it’s a terrible thing because the truth often does not flatter us. I think it’s safe to say that none of us would like our inner thoughts exposed, we would very much prefer that others remain ignorant of our worst actions, we would like to continue to keep others in the dark about our true intentions and motives, and indeed we thus keep ourselves in the dark. As Jesus put in John (3:19), “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.”
I’ve recently started substitute teaching at ISL, and already I’ve observed something that I remember from my own school days, which is that, when given an assignment, the students ask if it’s going to be graded or not. The upshot is obvious: “Do I need to do my best?” “Does this matter?” Most students would probably prefer than nothing be graded, but there are those rare types who know they’ve mastered a subject a can’t wait to take the test. They’ve worked hard and they want to be judged, because that judgement will be positive.
God’s judgment is profoundly life-affirming. It makes clear that this life matters, that what we’ve done and left undone matters. Many of us have learned a picture of like a mean teacher eager to fail the children because of their laziness and incompetence, as if God’s primary disposition is condemnation, rather than like a teacher who wants the students to succeed, who gives second chances, who makes their success his mission. Still they must be tested as if by fire, but the hope is that they will pass. A teacher who’s students all fail isn’t a very good teacher, and a God whose creatures all fail isn’t a very good God.
Like students who haven’t studied, we tend to view the prospect of judgment in strictly negative terms. The words “God” and “judgment”, when placed together, paint in in our minds a picture of wrath, of a God we either learn to be afraid of or one we learn to reject. And this passages sure seems to point in that direction too. Here Jesus issues a warning that judgment is coming, and the test is going to be difficult and painful, that it’s going to reveal all our inadequacies and deficiencies, but that we just might make it to the other side. The implication is clear: do not be a slacker; be diligent, be ready, devote yourself to a life of anticipation of the judgment to come.
The Apostle Paul wrote, “For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive due recompense for actions done in the body, whether good or evil.” There is a positive aspect to this we don’t easily here: that the good we have done will also be judged positively, that will make a difference in eternity. Justice will be done. And we might also take solace that, at the end of time, history doesn’t just shrug its shoulders at the injustice we’ve suffered, but instead judges every harsh word, every betrayal, every ruler who starts wars for their own self-aggrandizement.
This picture may not fit neatly in the Gospel you think you know, the one where we we just go to heaven (or not) when we die. Instead the picture is that, as we say every Sunday in the creed, that Christ, “will come to judge the living and the dead.” - and this based on our deeds and misdeeds. There is a kind of Christian nihilism denigrates earthly life, which makes getting saved and escaping this world the only thing here that matters. This is precisely the opposite of what Scripture teaches. And there is, of course, just plain old nihilism, the view that nothing really matters, that there is no ultimate meaning, no point to life itself. That might seem like an extreme position, but in fact, it’s the default “spirituality” of our day. It is the air we breathe.
If you find yourself feeling like you move through your days as if nothing really matters, nothing you do or don’t do makes a difference one way or another, then consider that you might need to increase the prominence of the coming judgment in your imagination. And not simply out of fear that God will judge harshly if you do not - though that could very well be true - but because it imbues all of life with meaning, it that light we see that our lives matter to God in no small part because what we do to our neighbors matters to God. It all makes a difference.
And if you’re someone who longs for justice to be done and who perhaps struggles to believe in God exactly because there is so much injustice, consider that, even if you find it difficult to believe, the picture that God will finally bring about justice satisfies our deepest longings in a way that numb nihilism never can. And even consider that this isn’t just a more appealing picture, but one that is actually true, that existence itself inherently moral, that the ground of being is the God who loves.
And one more thing: Is there a more compelling affirmation of our humanity, of all we desire, of all we experience, a more powerful recognition of our pain and frustration, of our longing for justice, than of a God who takes on our condition, lives justly but suffers injustice. And to believe that this is our salvation: that Christ has come, and Christ will come again.
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