It’s that time of year again, when we’re greeted at the grocery store by carts full of half-price Halloween candy before we pass the displays of cranberries in one aisle and candy canes in another. The day after Thanksgiving, those cranberries will be reduced for quick sale to make room for the Valentine’s Day displays that will pop up on December 26.
The world of commerce is clearly adept at anticipating what is to come and — even more importantly — acting on that anticipation. It’s in their economic best interests to plan ahead to have the supply on hand to meet the demand, demand that they vigorously invest in helping to whip up. To do anything else would amount to business malpractice and a “Store Closing” banner on the front window.
If the stakes are high in the business world, how much more are they in our spiritual life? Our brief first reading from Malachi doesn’t mince words — the proud and the evildoers will be consumed as by a blazing oven, while those who follow God will be healed by the rays of the sun of justice.
Our liturgical year is drawing to a close, with next Sunday’s Feast of Christ the King being followed by the First Sunday of Advent, our New Year’s Day. With the end of the year, our readings challenge us to reflect on the end, the trials that will surely come with the end, and, importantly, the judgment that is to follow.
The end we’re invited to consider is not just the end of the world, but the end of our own earthly lives. Our goal should be to live our finite life in this world so as to have eternal life in the next.
I don’t think any of us believe that we’ll never die. We are all aware of our humanity and the mortality that comes with it. But unless we have faced a dire medical diagnosis or a life-threatening injury, it’s unlikely that we often think about our eventual death or use it as a point of reference for how we live our lives.
That’s natural, a part of our human nature. But we would do well to reflect on the end from time to time. The readings of these final Sundays of the Church year invite us to look beyond our day-to-day occupations and preoccupations by reminding us that all things in this world are passing and will inevitably come to a close.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the coming fall of Jerusalem and the utter destruction of the Temple, of a future where nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, where there will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues and awesome sights and mighty signs coming from the sky.
All of those things Jesus spoke of came to pass within a few decades following his Ascension. While Jesus’ prophetic words sound apocalyptic, the fact that we’re here today gives witness to the fact that, as dire as those events were, they did not spell the end of the world. Moreover, the events Jesus warned of were not a one-and-done. Wars and earthquakes, plagues and famines have continued through the centuries and into our present day, and there’s little reason to think they won’t continue into the foreseeable future.
If we’re told that something is going to occur, we instinctively want to know when. Jesus is asked today, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” We’d love to always know the “when” of an event so we can map out our path to that moment.
That desire can lead us to put stock in some sketchy prognostications. Those of us of a certain age can recall the lead-up to the year 2000, when fears of all the systems failing led people to do everything from stockpiling batteries to heading into the wilderness to await the end of the world.
Today’s second reading is addressed to a Thessalonian community that has become preoccupied with the date of the Second Coming of Christ. A message that allegedly came from St. Paul has them thinking that the Day of the Lord is imminent, and that supposed knowledge has them acting in a “why bother?” kind of way — If Jesus is coming in a minute, why bother working?
The entirety of the Second Letter to the Thessalonians is a corrective to that way of thinking. We do not and cannot know the hour or the day, so stop acting like you do and return to your baptismal identity and a life rooted in the Gospel, he says in so many words. He concludes with what we hear today — mind your business and do your work in both a figurative and literal sense, an echo of Jesus’ words today, “By your perseverance you will secure your lives.”
That’s the challenge presented to each of us — to persevere in faith. While we might not be living in anticipation of Christ’s second coming the week after next, it goes without saying that this passing world offers a nearly unlimited menu of distractions that can easily blur our focus and pull us away from our baptismal identity and a life rooted in the Gospel.
Sub specie aeternitatis is a Latin phrase that means “under the aspect of eternity.” It’s viewing things from a timeless perspective, focusing on what is universally and eternally true rather than on temporary aspects of reality. In the end, it means trusting in God, his will, and his plan for me and the world.
I follow the news probably too much. I can get wound up and found myself in prayer not too long ago flagging things for God’s attention and telling him how to fix them. Then I revisited a line from Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God:
He said that as far as the miseries and sins he heard of daily in the world, he was so far from wondering at them, that, on the contrary, he was surprised there were not more considering the malice sinners were capable of. For his part, he prayed for them. But knowing that God could remedy the mischief they did when he pleased, he gave himself no further trouble.
All those wars and insurrections, plagues and famines and earthquakes will happen whether I’m paying attention or not. God will handle those things. We’re reminded today that what won’t happen without my attention is my salvation.
The end will come for each of us as it has for everyone who came before us from time immemorial. We have no say about the “when” of it, but we do have a say about who we are when that time comes. Let us live under the aspect of eternity, strengthened and sustained by the Eucharist and purified by the forgiveness of our sins through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
St. John Henry Newman wrote about the hereafter, “Do not fear that your life shall come to an end, but rather that it shall never have a beginning.” May each moment of each day be for us that beginning.
Deacon Steve O’Neill was ordained for service to the Archdiocese of Washington in June 2013 and serves at St. Andrew Apostle in suburban Maryland. After four years in the Marine Corps and three years at the University of Maryland (where met Traci, now his wife of 30+ years, and earned a degree in English), he has worked as an analyst with the Federal government. Deacon Steve and Traci have two sons and two daughters and three grandchildren.
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