Watch, for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning, lest he come suddenly and find you asleep. Mark 13:35, 36
Commemoration: Clement of Alexandria
O God of unsearchable mystery, who led Clement of Alexandria to find in ancient philosophy a path to knowledge of your Word: Grant that your Church may recognize true wisdom, wherever it is found, knowing that wisdom comes from you and leads to you; through our Teacher Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Psalter: Psalm 25
Lessons: Amos 7:1-9, Revelation 1:1-8, Matthew 22:23-33
John's magnificent vision on the island of Patmos was a revelation given him by God, with whom he enjoyed so intimate a relationship as to be granted the privilege of seeing the realm of eternity which transcends time and the realm of glory which transcends space.
But this reality does not inspire fear in the heart of believers, whose lives are being transformed by the Holy Spirit into the image and likeness of God. Rather, Jesus' promise, "I am coming soon" (Revelation 22:7, 12) is the promise of vindication and eternal rest for those who, in the face of suffering and persecution, persevere to the end. It is a promise of comfort for the living and of resurrection for those who have "fallen asleep" in Christ.
"The promise of his coming" is the promise that brings the church together as a covenant community. The expectation of seeing our Lord face to face brings us together for worship every Lord's Day. It is a promise that is made real in the celebration of the Eucharist. For in every observance of this blessed sacrament, the true meaning of John's vision is broken and poured out before our very eyes. Christ is present in a real, yet mysterious, way. Heaven and earth become one. New Jerusalem shines in all its splendor as its citizens celebrate the marriage supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:9).
"The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking," as Paul reminds us, "but of righteousness, and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit" (Romans 14:17). Yet it is precisely through the outward act of eating and drinking that we experience the kingdom mysteriously present in our midst. In partaking of the bread and wine of the Eucharist, we are participating in the reality beyond the symbols. Paradoxically, we consume outwardly the body and blood of Christ while, at the same time, we are being inwardly consumed into the reality that is Christ himself: the mystery of his death, resurrection and coming again. The whole of this mystery is laid forth visibly, yet mysteriously, in the bread and the cup. Through his broken body and shed blood, our mortality is being consumed into his immortality. His presence is made real in our midst as we gather in his name around his table and made real in the world around us as we outwardly manifest it through "lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God" (2 Peter 3:11b-12a).
To contemplate this mystery is to be consumed by it; to surrender our selfish desire to understand that which is too high even to enter our feeble human minds. In seeking to draw the mystery into ourselves, we will find ourselves being drawn into the mystery. Therein, we begin to embrace Jesus’ most comforting promise, “And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also" (John 14:3).
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
“Even so. Come, Lord Jesus!”
Hallelujah! (From Handel's Messiah)