In the same reflection, Tillich offers that "each of the modes of time has its peculiar mystery; each of them carries its own peculiar anxiety. Each of them drives us to an ultimate question." (130) Then Tillich offers one answer to all those questions - "The eternal." He says, "[The eternal] is the one power that surpasses the all-consuming power of time…He Who was and is to come, the beginning and the end. He gives us forgiveness for what has passed. He gives us courage for what is to come. He gives us rest in His eternal presence." (pp. 130-131)

Perhaps for some this answer is satisfying. Knowing that God is completely other can help us deal with the fragility of our human limitations. Knowing that God redeems our past and will sustain us in the future may give us at least a moment's peace in the present. But for others of us, the anxiety is overwhelming. The past seems too heavy a burden to lift, the future too uncertain to imagine the outcome. Our feelings overwhelm us, and the ability to rest in the present seems an unattainable peace.

The questions themselves seem tough to frame. Before we each were birthed into being, there was a time when we were not. Eventually, for all of us, time will pass such that we are no more. Is it vanity to want to be remembered? …By our children and grandchildren? …By our best deeds? …By the God who called us into being? Is it hopeless to want some things to be forgotten? …Our marred relationships? ….Our haunting mistakes? … Our sins and the sadness we caused in the lives of others? The old adage that time heals all wounds may be true when the scrapes are superficial, but deep pain only seems to grow more debilitating the longer we hold on to it.

Jesus has some interesting ways of describing time from both the short view of humanity and the longer reach of God. In doing so, he finds himself talking to his disciples about a different kind of end, the end of creation as we know it. He speaks of a time when "the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." This is terrifying! It's hard enough to imagine the inevitability of our own deaths, let alone catastrophic death, or the end of this planet, and a shake-up that might be felt all the way to heaven.

We human beings who worry about endings in general want some fair warning if a big end is about to occur. Environmental concerns aside for the moment, we want to know how to prepare for such a dramatic event as the end of our planetary existence. Jesus gives us two options. The first is to look for signs as one would look for the signs of a new season. Jesus gives us reason to believe that time follows some cycles of predictability. When you sense unusual things taking place, perhaps a season is about to change - an ending of one time almost always marks a beginning in another time. We've all had those watershed moments. There's a time before marriage and after marriage, before kids and after kids. There's a time when parents are there to answer our calls and offer us advice, and there comes a day when the family line ends with us. Jesus tells us that one can learn this lesson from the fig tree. Since we have had one in our front yard for 6 years now, I actually do understand this metaphor pretty well. The fig tree has noticeable buds at the beginning of spring, leafs-out with vigor in the summer, and drops its leaves decisively at the first frost. Following this example, when we see the signs Jesus mentions taking place - it's time to duck and cover! But a lot of things have to pass first, many, many regular seasons. And then Jesus' words will be all that's left.

The second way Jesus tells us to prepare is to "keep watch." "About that day or hour no one knows," he says, "Not me, not the angels, not anyone, except maybe God alone." That's little help for impatient human beings. We have much to get done in the little time we have. "Keeping watch" is certainly lost on the 21st century American mentality. Now, keeping watch means knowing the appointments on our calendars, "Blackberry" or paper. Keeping watch means paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, and saving for retirement. Keeping watch means getting the kids fed, cleaned up, and ready for bed by 8 p.m. We just don't know how to watch patiently, awake and alert for signs of God taking place in our world. It doesn't fit into the 40 hour week; let alone the 50, 60 or 70 hour week.

For we modern-types who have little need to observe the passing of the seasons, and even less need to stay awake for whatever it is we're supposed to be watching for - we may find it tough to heed Jesus' teachings about time's passing. Time is a blur from beginning to end. Taking time to reflect, remember, imagine, or dream seems hard enough. Those things tend to take us back to our past or get us thinking about the future. Jesus gives us the insight to pause in the now. Imagine the beauty of this season. Stay awake in this moment.

Advent is a time of preparation, of slowing down from the pace of our usual lives to preserve some time for the spiritual life. Humankind had to invent these liturgical seasons to try to break up the speed at which life can take us. The rhythms of life are like litanies themselves. The week, the lunar month, the seasons, the passing of generations all will not be rushed - no matter what we do to them. Seasons teach us pacing, on how to wait for God's own time. The same is true of watchfulness. Knowing that God can enter our lives at any time reminds us that every moment is truly sacred. Falling asleep on this job may cost us dearly in what "could have been" had we stayed awake.

"Each of the modes of time has its own mystery; its own peculiar anxiety." We've got the anxiety down. Allowing the mysteries of time to wash over us may just well point us toward God.

Amen.