(Matthew 24:36-44) - "But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.

Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.
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I was visiting with Joyce Brown the other day. She was reflecting how some of the terrorism precautions being promoted on television today reminded her of a time in her childhood she calls those "dog-tag days." Joyce remembers regular instructional assemblies and once-a-week civil defense drills in her elementary school in Little Rock.

When the alarm sounded for the drill, every child had a designated place to go. They were told that a stack of books four feet wide would prevent nuclear radiation, so all of the books in the school would be passed from child to child and stacked in front of the classroom windows. Because many of the children were to huddle under the tables in the cafeteria, there was a line of children assigned to each step in the stairwell to pass books into the cafeteria in order to block those windows four feet deep. Each drill was timed, and after the all-clear, the children returned the books to their shelves and resumed school.

At the assemblies, the principal reminded each child of the seriousness of their duties. If they weren't on their step, there was a missing link, and a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. He explained about the designated Civil Defense Shelters located throughout Little Rock. If the alarm went off, you had thirty-minutes to get to a designated shelter. Once the door closes, no one gets in. If your mother is outside clawing at the door after it is shut, he said, they will not re-open the door. So get in before it is too late. And no animals are allowed in the shelter, so if you have dogs, leave them outside, where it was presumed everything and everyone would die.

Every child was issued a dog tag. The principal explained that this was so your body could be identified in case of a nuclear attack. Kids being kids, they traded chains -- boyfriends with girlfriends. They laughed about when the bomb came, I guess you'll be Joyce and I'll be Daniel.

But Joyce said she was left with a reservoir of profound fear. In her imagination she could see vivid scenes of terror and separation. And because one parent worked in Little Rock and another in North Little Rock and all three kids were in different schools, she panicked at the thought of those doors closing and her being separated forever from her family.

I'm sure the principal believed what he was doing was prudent, good and right, but it left in the elementary-aged Joyce a feeling of insecurity and fear.

When you hear these words from today's gospel, where does your imagination take you? "Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together, one will be taken and one will be left."

A friend of mine named Janice got up from the television one afternoon when she was about ten. She went into the kitchen; dinner was on the stove, everything looked normal. But, no mother. She went outside to the barn where her father was working. She could see where he had been busy with something, but now he was nowhere to be seen. Panicked, she went all through the house. She was alone. She was sure they had all been raptured, and she was the only one left behind.

If that's the way you think about this passage, it's a sign of how we all have been influenced by post-millennial dispensational preaching, even if you are an Episcopalian.

In the early church's imagination, every expectation was for Jesus to return to remain on earth where God would live with humankind and would inaugurate a new creation right here, where "they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." The Biblical expectation is for a renewed world and a healed humanity right here.

We are urged to remain awake in order to receive and welcome the coming of Christ into the world. It is the opposite of the dispensationalists' fearful, self-centered escape and destroy scenario.

I don't want to go into a teaching here about the flaws of the theology and Biblical interpretation of things like Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins' Left Behind series and Hal Lindsay's Late Great Planet Earth." Just a note to say that those fictons are the strange product of John Nelson Darby, the founder of the Plymouth Brethren in the mid-1800's, popularized by the 1909 publication of the Scofield Reference Bible. If you need more information to rebut a relative or friend excited about the "left behind" stuff, I would recommend The Rapture Exposed, by Barbara R. Rossing or Stealing Jesus by Bruce Bawer. (Our Bookstore can order those.)

There are three central principles of Biblical and Christian faith that I want to assert today. First, God loves all that God has created. From Genesis until now, the story of faith is a love story. One of our inherited covenants from the days of Noah is that God will never destroy the earth. God's intention is to redeem, save, heal, and resurrect the earth. Second, God's way of loving and redeeming the earth is by being with us. God's immanence is most fully revealed in the incarnation of Jesus, God-with-us. Salvation comes not by escape from the earth, but by its healing. And third, God loves the world and is intimately with us, therefore we can live unafraid. Fear not! Be not afraid! It is a message that appears in scripture over 350 times.

One way of summarizing a central message of the Gospel is this: Never be afraid, because our loving God is with us.

So, the advent cry of "be awake" is inviting us to become more alert to Christ's loving presence here and now, and to hope with expectant joy for its complete fulfillment.

The opposite of this Gospel truth is the dispensationalist distortion that the earth is corrupt beyond salvation, so you had better escape and await God's destruction of it. Be afraid and get saved. That is not the message of Jesus Christ.

Paul says to us today from his letter to the Romans, "it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep." And I would add that it is time for us to awake from fear as well. Seize the day. God is alive. Christ is with us.

Be awake, alive. Look around you at this wonderful place. Feel the prayers and sacrifices of those who have made it holy. Imagine the wonderful living trees that were skillfully crafted into the pews you sit on and the walls that shelter you. Feel the love and intention that went into their being created. Awake to the miracle of sharing the bread and wine, connecting us with the power of Christ's Last Supper 2000 years ago and his presence among us here and now. Feel the density of the sacrament that makes us one with him and with each other. Let the energy of divine love fill you with light, and know yourself to be the beloved, treasured child of God. Soak in that love, and be whole.

Live your life with the thankfulness and vigor you would give it if somehow you knew it was your last day on earth. How alert would you be? How hard would you look at trees and sunset, friend and loved one?

Life is alive and wonderful, full of love and of the presence of God. And sometimes we just go through the motions as though we were asleep, eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until whatever tragedy or extraordinary event threatens what we love and awakens us to its value.

St. Benedict urged us to live ordinary life extraordinarily. Every day. Fearlessly; courageously.

Wake up! That's the Advent cry.

Christ is near! In the face of the person seated next to you. In the words of every prayer. In the loving intention of this wonderful congregation gathered. In the beauty of music and liturgy. In the bread and wine made holy. In the earth and sky and sea. In the Monday morning alarm clock. In your faithful work and love.

As the Christian poet Gerard Manley Hopkins said so evocatively,
"The world is charged
with the grandeur of God.
...Nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things...
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah!
Bright wings."

Awake! Christ is near.