Eyes Fixed on the End Time: 33rd Sunday in OT

Campaign slogans have been used to show us where candidates believe we are going as a country—as a people.  Richard Nixon focused our thoughts “For the Future.”  Jimmy Carter wanted to remind us that he was “not just peanuts” but was “A Leader, for Change.”  Reagan proclaimed that “Its Morning Again in America” while George Bush reminded us that we need to be a “Kinder, Gentler Nation.”  Bill Clinton sang to us “Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow.”  Al Gore promised we would move towards “Prosperity and Progress” and George W. Bush had “Real plans for Real People.”  With recent events, we do not need to be reminded that we are to be a people of “Hope and Change”, that we are to “Believe in America” and that we are moving “Forward.”  But what do these slogans indicate?  Do we really know where we are heading—as a country, as a people?  Are we really sure what progress looks like or to what or whom we should place our hope? 

 

Approaching the end of the liturgical year with Advent right around the corner, the church invites us to think about these questions—and she provides us guidance.  The answer to our questions cannot be found in any political system, philosophy, political party, candidate or campaign slogan.  The answer is found by looking to the end times.

 

Ancient monks were concerned with keeping their eyes fixed on the end times.  To do so, they would actually carry a human skull around with them.  Now this probably seems terribly ridiculous and really extreme to us.  But the symbol could not be any clearer: the skull reminded them that their lives were short.  They were but a drop in the ocean of time.  Death was a reality that could not be ignored.  This life was important, but what really mattered were the things of eternity and what awaited the faithful.  Whenever these monks had to make a big decision, they looked down at the skull and were reminded that the decisions they made in this life had bearing on eternity: not only for them, but also for others.  Therefore they needed to keep their gaze fixed on the end times, for everything else was fading away. 

          Now I am not suggesting that we walk around with a skull. But I would suggest that we would do better as a society if we kept our gaze fixed more on the end times, and less on matters of this earthly life.  We would do well to be reminded exactly where we are progressing. For, in this country, we really seem to fear death and aging.  We fear thinking about the end.  No one wants to look in the mirror and be reminded that we are aging—that our bodies are wearing away.  So we do all we can to preserve our youthfulness: nipping and tucking and sucking and pulling and dying and stretching.  And no one wants to be reminded of death.  So we have places to keep those who are very close to the end.  We hire people to care for the dying rather than doing it ourselves.  And we glorify science for its prolonging our lives just a few more temporal moments.  But anyone who has sat with a loved one who has died, or anyone who has survived a terrible time with sickness knows that there is a wisdom found in being reminded of the end.  There is a wisdom found in keeping the reality of death front and center as we make our way through this earthly life.  But with our eyes fixed on the end, what do we see?

 

We see the elect, those who will spend an eternity with God.  We see our aunt whose feet always smelled like moth balls. We see our brother who always pulled our hair and pinched our arm.  We see our sister who stole our boyfriends and our boyfriend who stole our heart. We see that girl in school we always picked on and even that boy who always picked on us.  We see our neighbor who never cleans up his yard and whose donkey wakes us up every morning.  We see democrats and republicans, we see socialists and fascists, we see revolutionaries and we see pacifists.  And yes, we even see Baptists!  We see white people and black people, we see grey people and brown people.  We see red people and yellow people and we even see a few green people.  We see our grandmother whose cookies we have smelled baking in our minds every day since she died.  We see our son whom we never thought we would see there and we see our unborn child with whom we were never able to offer care.  We see the prisoner whom we never thought could be redeemed.  With our gaze fixated on the end times, we see the elect.  And we are surprised.  We are surprised because God’s grace and forgiveness was great enough to even include the people whom we never thought we ourselves would see in the end.  We were certain that this or that person would not be there.  But, with our eyes fixed on the end we start to truly see.  And we see that somehow we ourselves are there, too.

 

With our eyes fixed on the end we see that we are ourselves are there, but being there we also see ourselves more clearly.  We see how much we toiled in this life for meaningless things.  The treasures we stored up for ourselves that sadly we couldn’t take with us.  We see the opportunities we missed to love those around us.  We see the sadness of broken hearts and broken spirits.  We see how insignificant we were and how significant we thought we were.  We see how our decisions impacted others, how we let them down, how we hurt them and how we left them hanging.  We see the oaths we couldn’t uphold we see the vows we broke.  We see lies we told and the truth of who we really are.  We see all these things and how far we fell short.  We had our eyes fixed too much on ourselves and our worldly concerns rather than on the things of Heaven.  And so we are saddened.  We are almost given to despair.  

 

But in our sadness we hear that Heavenly chorus begin to sing.  We see the light pierce through the darkness and the night is no more.  We see the angels and archangels, the cherubim and seraphim.   We see what no eye has seen and hear what no ear has heard.  And like a trumpet blast we hear the words: Behold the Lamb of God, Behold him who takes away the sins of the world.  Blessed are those called to the supper of the lamb.

 

With our gaze fixed on the end, we see the Lamb.  His glory shines with the brightness of gold and diamonds.  His justice pierces through our night.  We hold a moment of doubt in our hearts that perhaps we shouldn’t be here.  But we see the wounds on his hands.  We see the pierced holes on his feet.  We see where the lance wrecked his side.  We see where the thorns crowned him king.  And that is why we are there.  We and all of those around us really do not deserve to be here.  But he welcomes us in.  He has transformed us and reformed us out of our weakness and sin.  He offered that one sacrifice that all the priestly sacrifices before him were never able to compare.  That sacrifice that gained us the vision of heaven even though we never, never, ever deserved to be here. 

 

Our political candidates can proclaim hope, change, vision, and progress.  But we as Catholics, with our eyes fixed on the end, have only one slogan we can proclaim.  And so with that heavenly symphony, that drama of the heavens, that angelic chorus, we say together: Holy Holy Holy Lord, God of Hosts. Heaven and earth is filled with your Glory.  Hosanna in the Highest.  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.