Now Is Our Time

December 04, 2005

Second Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8
The Reverend Stephen P. Bauman

As you might imagine, I’ve had a busy time of it this week once the story that we were hoping to sell our air rights broke on the front page of the New York Times. Actually, the story wasn’t so much about Christ Church as it was about the peculiarities of New York zoning laws that allow us to literally sell the air above our building. As it turns out, in these heady days of high-end real estate, air is prohibitively expensive.

More accurately, it’s the right-to-build above our structure that’s under consideration. If we choose, that right-to-build can be transferred down the block a bit so a developer can erect a taller building than would otherwise be allowed. In this way, the open air space above our building will be preserved in perpetuity. That’s the zoning trade-off in densely developed New York City – taller building down there for open space here.

Interestingly, I even spent time with a reporter and photographer from the Daily Telegraph of London, England, for a story to be printed in today’s edition. So, our news has leapt the pond, as they say. I heard from people all over the country, even from a friend in Bolivia. I guess it really is news when someone makes an offer to buy your air for $430 a square foot. Such are the times in which we live.

But, it was not lost on me that our story shared the front page with the funeral of Police Officer Dillon Stewart, recently shot in the line of duty; a report about abductions in Iraq; and our President’s so-called “Strategy for Victory” there. There was a story about difficult doctors, another reflecting cautious optimism for the economy, and a last one concerning how southern colleges struggle to expand their applicant pools. All in all, a hodge-podge of reportable matters selected by the Times’ editors, ranging wildly in content and importance.

I’m uncertain how to situate our circumstance among the others sharing that front page. No question, thirty million dollars is a lot of cash for empty space. But then, I learned yesterday radio shock-jock Howard Stern has signed a five-year contract with Sirius satellite radio for five hundred million dollars. Five hundred million. In New York, developers have spoken concerning the value of air. Around the nation, “the people” have spoken concerning the value of Howard Stern.

And, on Wednesday’s front page, I noted that four billion is the assigned value for the training of Iraqi troops next year, and that the average price of gasoline is now valued at $2.15 a gallon.

I’m uncertain what to make of all of this, uncertain just exactly how to locate our potential good fortune within context of everything else about which we should be concerned.

But then, I’m thinking there’s a reality check in the timing of our decision-making. Advent: the first season of the church year. The time of preparation for the new thing God has in store. It’s just about the only time we spend with John the Baptist, that odd desert prophet, a rock-star prophet, really.

We don’t have proper descriptors for understanding his popularity. After all, he didn’t accost pilgrims on a busy Jerusalem street on their way to the market or temple. It wasn’t as though he was constantly in their faces to the extent that they couldn’t be rid of him. He was way out of town. Folks had to work to get to him. It cost them something to go see him. Not only were country bumpkins flocking, but so too city slickers. The text says people from all around the countryside and many from Jerusalem gathered there on the banks of the Jordan.

And, what did they do when they found him? Well, they sought forgiveness and water baptism as emblematic of heartfelt intention. That’s hard for us to understand. We sort of get the principle of confession, but, truth be told, we’re not much for it personally and not especially good at it. So how is it that so many found this demanding message about the new thing God was about to accomplish so compelling, and what does it have to do with the price of air in New York City in 2005?

Well, I’m not exactly sure, except to say there is an extremely important lesson embedded here that pertains to the preparation of our hearts. I mean, let’s face it, in the grand scheme of things there’s no particularly good reason why we should be the ones sitting here about to welcome a windfall of some considerable benefit to our institutional life.

You know the drill on this if ever you’ve seriously considered how your life has evolved. Here we are, in one of the grandest cities on the planet, in the wealthiest, most powerful nation in the world, with untold opportunities for employment, learning, medicine, entertainment, advancement; despite our various individual and collective trials and sufferings, we are living in a time and place of unparalleled prosperity.

I’m reminded of the summary paragraph of Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation written at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Lincoln was a masterful theologian who had an instinct for the paradox of religious belief and the human situation. Without minimizing the war’s awful devastation, he recounted manifold blessings the nation had experienced and felt should be acknowledged.

He wrote, “No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice…”

Our current agonies and corruptions are not as brutally apparent as the ones with which Lincoln contended, but, it seems to me his profound sentiment captures the sort of preparation we should engage. It’s a preparation of humility and gratitude and awesome regard for the impending nearness of our God. And, as John the Baptist would instruct, it is a time for confession and forgiveness as well.

Confession and forgiveness for what? Well, I suppose that has a highly individualized aspect, as well as a collective aspect. Truth is, much of the time we’re blissfully unaware of our various corruptions, personal and communal, and, if we know them, we’d rather not confess them. Simply acknowledging that would be a good place to begin.

Friends, here’s why it’s so important: it gives us a fresh start, a clean slate. Confession is an engine of hope. It’s a way for us to make plainly clear who’s who and what’s what, who we are and who God is. Call it a cleansing, an ending and a beginning. Because, make no mistake, in accepting the gift that is about to be given, we’re taking on a great obligation, a call, a purpose, a vision for the future.

You can sense it, can’t you? You can sense that if we’re true to our deepest convictions, more is going to be asked of us in the days ahead, not less. We need to prepare.

During this past week, I’ve been asked by a number of persons whether our deal has the potential to make us lazy in our commitments. I have responded that, I suppose that could be a real concern for a shallow congregation.

On the other hand, for those with the eyes to see, it’s quite the opposite situation. Let’s be very clear right here at the beginning of our new year, during our season to celebrate the new and wonderful thing God is about to accomplish, that, ready or not, we’re being called out to advance the message of hope and reconciliation that Jesus taught and embodied. That’s the Christmas message, after all. Now is our time. Now. The day is upon us.

Martin Luther King, Jr. proclaimed that, “Every day is judgment day, and we, through our deeds and words, our silence and speech, are constantly writing in the Book of Life.” That’s true, isn’t it? There’s particular immediacy to this truth today.

The God of life advances on the world. Sounds grandiose, I know. But, we cannot avoid the obvious. We’re being summoned to join the cause. The cause of faith and hope and love and the gracious restoration of all that is broken and worn down. The cause of the broadest hospitality to all of God’s beloved children. The cause that smashes all the walls of hostility and division that keep us separate, scared and violent.

We’re being summoned, friends, to wake up to the implications of loving God above all things and our neighbors as ourselves. It’s the cause of Christ. Thus our name, Christ Church. This is no sentimental piety. It is, instead, the ground beneath our feet and the air inflating our lungs. What a glorious privilege to share it together. Thanks be to God for every good thing. And, may God bless and purify our intentions.

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