Matthew 24:36-51 · The Day and Hour Unknown
Ruining the Christmas Spirit
Matthew 24:36-44
Sermon
by Charles L. Aaron
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This morning is the first Sunday of Advent, and therefore the first Sunday of the church year. We begin Year A of the cycle, which is Matthew's year. When I read the scripture lesson, you may have noticed a couple of things. You may have noticed that we read a passage from near the end of Matthew. It may seem strange to read from near the end of the book that will guide us during the next year. Shouldn't we start at the beginning? We don't actually read from near the beginning of the book until the fourth Sunday of Advent. The other thing you may have noticed about this passage is that it doesn't sound very much like Christmas. It certainly isn't jolly. Nothing about it helps us enter into the Christmas spirit. Certainly when we preachers use the lectionary, we run into passages of scripture that we might never think to preach from, especially on certain Sundays. None of us might associate this passage with the first Sunday of Advent. Yet, the church encourages us to read this passage for today. Let us follow the church's wisdom, trusting that we will not lose our Christmas spirit, but see it transformed.

Matthew presents us with four vignettes, each told with a minimum of detail. To be honest, each vignette seems intended to get our attention, if not to scare us. The four vignettes teach us something about what verse 36 calls "that day and hour." This imposing phrase alludes back to the events described in verses 30 and 31. Verses 30 and 31 tell us about an event, or a promise, or an assurance that permeates the whole New Testament. The way Matthew depicts this event is to say that "the Son of Man [will come] on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory." By saying it that way, Matthew gives us spectacular imagery of the risen Christ riding a cloud to enter again into our world. The imagery points to the reality that the future is in God's hands. This word picture of Christ riding on the clouds assures us that God will intervene in the creation. Some other biblical writers talk about God's future for the creation in joyous terms. Paul talks about the "glory about to be revealed to us" (Romans 8:18). The author of 1 Peter writes of "an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you" (1 Peter 1:4). These four vignettes remind us that God's decisive action in history will be a time of judgment as well.

These four scenes that Matthew paints for us jump start our imaginations. Because they are concrete scenes with people and action, they draw us in. We need to be careful, however, because these four vignettes intend to make us sweat and squirm in our seats. Getting ready for Christmas can make us feel that way anyhow. Now Matthew makes us feel that way, too!

The first vignette is an allusion to Noah and the flood story in Genesis. We know that story, but we often miss how terrible it really is. God was sorry for making human beings. God decided to drown the whole lot of us. One family would be left. God told Noah to build an ark. You know the rest. Except for those on the ark, all the animals and people on earth drown in the flood. As I said, this is a terrible story. Someone who read this story without considering the whole context of the Bible might think that the image of God here comes disturbingly close to the real life case of Andrea Yates, the Texas woman who drowned her children in the bathtub [eventually found not guilty by reason of insanity]. Matthew has Jesus say that this terrifying story helps us understand the coming of the Son of Man. In just a few sentences, Jesus paints a scene of real terror. Jesus focuses on the part of the story that Genesis ignores: what it was like for the people caught in the flood. People were simply going about their business: eating lunch, drinking a soda, planning a wedding. All of those things sound innocent. We would expect scenes of merchants cheating their customers, or someone abusing the poor. What we get is the judgment hitting right as the bride and groom are feeding each other cake. With no warning, the floods come down and sweep them all away. If you saw the movie Titanic, some of the scenes in that movie — with water crashing all around and dead bodies floating in the water — may give us a mental picture of the scene Jesus describes here.

The next two vignettes are very similar. With one sentence each, Jesus presents two pairs of people. In both scenes, the two people depicted are working hard at tedious jobs. Two workers are in a field; two women are grinding meal. From each pair one is received into God's new action and one is left outside of it. These vignettes are not quite as harsh as the first one. They do not threaten destruction, and they offer more hope, at least for the one person in each pair who is received. Still, the vignette is heartbreaking. When God acts, when God reaches into the creation in grace and power, some will not be included. How lonely that sounds. Even a quick drowning might be more merciful than being turned away by God.

The last vignette does not make us feel any better than the first three. The only way we can understand God is to compare God to things we know. Here, Jesus describes God breaking into our world with the image of a thief breaking into a house. Every pastor counsels people who have been victims of crime, including burglary. With burglary, the value of what we lose is only part of the problem. If someone breaks into our house, we feel violated. It takes time to feel comfortable in our own house again. Even if Jesus is trying to make a point with this scene, the image he uses leaves us with an uneasy feeling in the pit of our stomach.

These stories seem like the last thing we need to hear right as we are coming into the Christmas season. Why do we need stories about flood-waters drowning people with no warning that the flood is coming, or people being shut out by God, or thieves intruding into the place where we most want to feel safe? Let's just be honest: Christmas is a difficult time. We've turned a blessing into a burden. Most of us find this time of year stressing us to the snapping point. We rush around trying to buy presents, cook food, make travel arrangements, or send out cards and letters. The choir at church has extra practice sessions. For some people the holidays are the saddest time of the year. Lonely people are lonelier at Christmas. If we have had a death in the family, Christmas makes the loss stand out. All of that leaves little time for Christmas cheer.

What we often try to do at Christmas is to hang on as best we can. We fill the holiday with reindeer, snowmen, eggnog, and cookies. We try to fake a little Christmas spirit, but trying to paste on Christmas cheer can just mask the emptiness inside. We try to fill the emptiness with sentimentality.

Maybe the lectionary committee knew what it was doing by assigning this text for the first Sunday of Advent. If these unsettling stories from Matthew do nothing else, they tear away our attempts at sentimentality. Nothing about the Noah story is sentimental. Can we even think about God being as angry as that story sounds? There is nothing sentimental about being excluded by God. Certainly, there is nothing sentimental about a thief breaking into our house. When we hear one more rendition of "Frosty The Snowman" coming from our dashboards this season, we need Matthew to remind us that Christmas is about serious business. Christmas is about a God who aches over the sin of the world. We don't like to hear stories about judgment, but God's judgment means that God cares when people are hurt.

These unsettling stories proclaim to us at the start of Advent that God hears the cries of the oppressed, of the abused, of the world's victims. Those are the things God judges. If God could come in a flood or like a thief in the night, then God is free to act and powerful enough to make us take notice. Matthew shows us that preparation for the season means more than making sure the presents are wrapped. We are called to discipleship and witness. We are called to obedience. We are called to resist the world's evil.

Matthew is about more than judgment, of course. The fact that the floodwaters didn't come yesterday means that God gives us time. Just a little bit after this passage is the familiar parable of the bridesmaids. Everybody falls asleep because the bridegroom is taking his time. After the word of judgment comes the word of hope, the word of forbearance, the word of grace. God holds the rushing waters back. The thief takes the night off. We have time to hear, to repent, to obey.

We may not like it that God speaks right before Christmas through Jesus and Matthew with these frightening stories, but God needs to get our attention. We are the church, called to show and teach the world what it means that this baby was born. We have more to do this Christmas season than we thought. Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Becoming The Salt and The Light, by Charles L. Aaron