Preparing for the Day When Everything Seems to Change

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 12, 2023

Year A, Proper 27: The Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25

Psalm 78:1-7

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Matthew 25:1-13

Preparing for the Day When Everything Seems to Change

I’m not sure why, but this year the switch back to Standard Time has really hit me.

Part of the problem is that our cats have definitely not grasped the concept of “falling back” one hour. Their internal clocks are still pretty much where they were a week ago. 

So much for that extra hour of sleep.

Gradually, they are adjusting. 

We hope.

But it’s not just the cats.

Lots of people struggle with the time change – apparently, there are more car crashes – including right out here at our confusing and dangerous intersection. 

And the evening darkness can feel very gloomy indeed, especially these days when the world is so deeply shadowed by war and fear and hate.

I think the suddenness of the time change gets to us, too.

One day it’s still kind of bright at 7:00 PM and then the next day at the same time it’s like the middle of the night. 

And, although there is plenty of advanced warning, maybe this time change unsettles us because it reminds us of how life can sometimes be: without advanced warning, everything can suddenly change, thrusting us from light to shadow.

Well, it feels like it was six months ago, but, actually, it was only about six weeks ago – October 1, to be exact – when a whole lot of St. Thomas’ parishioners and friends – many of us wearing our sharp-looking orange St. Thomas’ Orioles shirts – made our way down to Camden Yards for the final game of what had been an extraordinary season.

The weather was perfect. And we – or at least, certainly I – expected a great game – really looked forward to a big Oriole win that would propel the team into playoff glory.

Well, at least it was a beautiful day!

Unfortunately, our guys did not play well at all against the Red Sox, foreshadowing the misery to come in the playoffs.

Anyway, after the game many of us were making our way through the throngs of people, making the way-too-long trek back to where our bus was parked when, suddenly, as many of you know, my mother fell.

She hit her head on the sidewalk cement.

There was blood. 

And people gathered around – some trying to help and others just gawking.

Eventually the first aid person arrived and began to tend to my mom.

And then my mother was taken away in the ambulance.

It was a frightening experience for my family – quite a sudden jolt from the joy of St. Thomas’ at the Orioles to this moment of suffering and fear - and I remember thinking, here it is: this is one of those moments when everything seems to change.

I thought, now we will forever mark time differently, before and after this fall.

Most of us know only too well what this is like, and some of us have recently endured these horrible moments of fear and sorrow.

The phone ringing in the middle of the night.

The doctor sitting across from us, looking uncomfortable, trying to find the best way to deliver bad news.

The revelation of a long-hidden secret.

Harsh words uttered in anger or hurt, words that can never be taken back or forgotten.

One wrong step.

The day when everything seems to change.

Fortunately, and amazingly, considering how terrible things first looked, my mom was not badly hurt in her fall.

Just a few bruised ribs – painful but manageable.

As I’ve joked with some of you, it’s a good thing that we Jersey City people are so hardheaded!

But that close call was an unexpected gift for me and my family – yet another reminder to not take anything – anyone - for granted – to remember that, actually, we don’t have all the time in the world – a call to treasure who and what we’ve been given – and, maybe, to better prepare for the day when everything really does change.

Although it’s not as sudden as the “fall back” to Standard Time or a stumble onto the sidewalk, there is a change – a seasonal change - underway here in church.

We have now entered a kind of pre-Advent season, a couple of weeks of lead-up to the First Sunday of Advent, which, this year is December 3.

Now, I love Advent almost us much as I love Baptism and an active church.

But even I sometimes forget that there are two sides of Advent – there’s the preparation for Christmas, of course – everybody knows that – but there’s the other side of Advent that we don’t talk about so much – the preparation for the Last Day, the Day of Judgment.

In fact, Advent used to be much more like Lent, a more penitential season, a time of sacrifice and repentance that helped to get us spiritually ready, both for Christmas and for the Last Day.

And we hear that more austere tone in today’s Parable of the Wise and Foolish Bridesmaids – the bridesmaids don’t have all the time in the world – and when the door is closed, it’s closed.

And during Advent itself we’ll certainly hear that austere tone from one of the central characters of Advent, John the Baptist, and his loud and clear call to repent, to turn around, before it’s too late.

This year, when the world is shadowed by war and fear and hate, I think we should have a more Lent-like Advent – to prepare, with God’s help, for the day when everything seems to change.

So, maybe, even in the busyness of the so-called “holiday season,” we can carve out a little more time and space for God – to make even just a little “Quiet Time” for prayer and reflection.

During Advent, we can repent what needs to be repented.

We can ask forgiveness when we’ve messed up and offer absolution when we’ve been wronged. 

We can tell the people we love that we love them.

And, before the great and joyful holiday feasts, we can sacrifice or even fast a little, not to punish ourselves but to remind ourselves that we are totally dependent on God.

Which is a very good thing, because even on the day when everything seems to change, God’s love is constant.

And when we fall, God never lets go of us, no matter what.

Amen.