The theme of our service today is the day of the Lord, a phrase which conjures up many ideas of judgement and of last things generally. It’s an idea which crops up repeatedly in the bible: in the Old Testament in Isaiah and Ezekiel, but especially in Daniel. In Daniel there are lots of visions, the one you probably know being that of the Ancient of Days, sitting on a throne but there are several chapters, very similar to the book of Revelation. In Isaiah and Ezekiel, the prophecy is Messianic, including some very well loved extracts we shall probably hear again this Christmas. You might think from this that the prophecy would be fulfilled in Jesus, with nothing more needing to be said, but in fact the gospels are full of references such as the one we have had in our reading today. In fact, during the time of Jesus’ ministry expectations of a coming Messiah were enormous. We would say today that Jesus was indeed the expected Messiah and that His coming did indeed mark the day of the Lord, but that did not exhaust its meaning. Expectations of the end of the world were intense throughout apostolic times, and seemed to be fulfilled with the Jewish wars and the destruction of the Temple in AD 67. But history moved on another 2,000 years, though the fall of the Roman Empire, the medieval period with all its turmoil and now modern times, which have seen the most cataclysmic events of human history. No century goes by without some event or other demanding the use of the word, apocalyptic.
So what can this phrase, the day of the Lord, mean to us today? For myself, I apply it quite generally, to the end of epochs in history, but also on an individual basis, to things we will never do again. We should regard the day of the Lord as a transition, focussed not only on the event, but also on what goes on after. Life is full of transitions, from childhood to adulthood, from adulthood to old age and from old age to death. And this applies to institutions like our church and to nations: transitions can occur at any level from an individual to the whole of human society and indeed life on earth. The thing with these transitions is that they mark a change of purpose, a change of goal and that is what religion is all about. As a child our goal in life is to grow up; as a young adult, our goals are to do with finding a job and marrying and raising a family. We are used to the church marking some of these transitions with rites of passage such as baptism, confirmation, marriage and funerals. And we have rites too for national celebrations, jubilees and all sorts of events which mark significant events or changes.
But all of these rites have the flavour of celebrations, whereas the day of the Lord has a rather threatening air about it. If you are using this term, you are nearly always thinking of judgement, and possibly eternal judgement too. Now the way I would relate this to the kind of event I have been talking about is that these transitions are indeed where pigeons come home to roost. It is as you enter adulthood that you can being to appreciate what education is all about: not just learning a trade, although that is important enough, but all the other life skills we need, like politeness, the ability to get on with people and understand them. What you have learned as a child determines what you have become as an adult. And the same applies as you enter into work or into a marriage. What you do, and who you share your life with, affects who you are. Entering into a profession only to make money will turn you into a calculating machine. And when you retire, someone will just turn you off and take the money from the till. Judgement is as sure as death and this is part of what we mean by the day of the Lord.
But judgement is not all there is to this phrase because it looks beyond the day to something more. We are not talking about endings so much as transitions. Life seems to go though phases where our goals and purposes are static until often quite suddenly they have to change. Retirement is the one that comes to my mind, because one day you are at work and the next you are not. The transition is so sudden. We have this tendency of identifying ourselves by what we do. I’m a scientific civil servant and suddenly I’m not any more. Who am I? People aren’t going to call me “sir” any more. I suddenly seem to count for nothing.
Well, I can’t say I found the transition that hard myself, but I know people who did and retirement forces all of us to wonder what we have done with out lives, and more important, what should we do with the life ahead. So the parables of the day of the Lord look two ways. In one direction to consider our goals and way of life now because it will indeed come to a test and in the other to change our goals and think of our way of life in the future. It’s a transition, a change, and these transitions happen at various times in our lives and are quite unpredictable, but nevertheless we should be prepared for them.
Now I don’t want to overplay this. We all have one event to face in the future, which is our death. Now I have known some people who have got their affairs all in such neat order, their wills made and everything provided for, that they become so tidy they only have one thing to do in life and that is to tidy themselves away and die. There is such a thing as being too prepared for the future, for you do have to live now. And in fact this was a concern of some of the early Christians who thought the end of the world was so imminent that it was hardly worth going about their daily lives. Not so. Our lives are to be lived to the full and that often means doing some tedious work. But that work can be set in the context of the purposes and goals of our current phase of life. Things don’t go on for ever, but we do need to fulfil all the potential of our current way of life.
So the day of the Lord is about change and there are three words I would like you to take away when thinking of it. The first is that we should embrace change. Some change is inevitable: the thing is to look beyond that change and see the good things it can bring. The second word is that we should work to discern change. Your best bet for the weather tomorrow is that it is going to be pretty much like the weather today, but that isn’t always so and the same applies to life. As Jesus said, “you know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky; how is it you cannot judge this fateful hour?” Well, discernment is hard, but that doesn’t mean you are excused from doing it. And the final word is to prepare for change. What we do now must take into account how we shall change in future.
So let me give you an example. I have talked about retirement, but what about old age? That transition is facing all of us, at longer or shorter intervals of time. How do we look forward to old age? Well, there are benefits, if we can see them. In old age we may not be able to do so much physically, but perhaps this may make time for reflection, for reading and writing and indeed for passing the time of day with your neighbour. I was going to say that old age can bring serenity, but I think serenity is rather something you bring to old age: it is part of preparation for change rather than being about embracing it. Old age also seems to be a time when you need and enjoy other people, so how about preparing for it by learning to enjoy other people now. There are some people I have visited for home communions who really are a joy to visit: they are interested in you and what you are doing and don’t just regard you as some convenient person to complain to. And so we can embrace the changes that old age brings and we can prepare for them. But what about discernment, when are you old? Never, say some people! But there will come a time when you can’t do things and then you have to ask your self, am I ill? Or am I old? Or am I just not trying? Well, we do need discernment to answer that question.
The day of the Lord, in whatever form, will come to us like a thief in the night. Let us enjoy the present, but not be unprepared for it and embrace whatever future it brings.