In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today, beloved in the Lord, I have in mind to share with you a meditation about scheduling. We know that life is impossible unless we can depend on certain kinds of schedules. Now, it is of the nature of a schedule, and has been from the beginning, that it be written down. As in so many instances, the Romans put it succinctly: Vox fugit, scriptum manet. The voice, the word, the spoken word flees; scriptum manet: what’s written down stays. They had not yet invented erasers back at that time. [Laughter] Actually, they had, but I won’t go into it at this time.

The word “schedule” suggests this very thing. It comes from the root scheda, which is a sheet of papyrus. The diminutive Latin form, schedula—hear the diminutive ending there, -ula—schedula indicates a small piece of papyrus. A schedule is written down on that sheet.

A schedule is, first of all, orderly. There are not supposed to be any surprises on a schedule. Its regularity elicits a sense of confidence, a sense of security. In fact, a schedule is normative. I think we kind of know that. I think we know that. At least, we try to treat a schedule normative if it’s a matter of getting to the airport on time for a flight. That is normative, has a rule to it. For the same reason, we should no more arrive late for worship than we’d arrive late for a plane flight. It seemed kind of obvious for me.

Remember our Lord’s story about the five foolish maidens who arrive late and found the door locked against them. See, they did not know the day nor the hour, and the door was still locked against them. What about us who know the day and the hour?

This morning I have in mind to make three points with regard to schedules. First is the natural schedule, the schedule of nature. We’d be looking at a story that was preserved in Matthew and Mark. And second, the liturgical schedule, the liturgical year. We’ll be looking at a passage in John. And then thirdly, the hidden agenda, and we’ll refer to today’s reading from Romans for that one. All of these schedules are found in the Bible.

Let’s take schedule number one, the natural schedule. The first we can call natural because God is the author of it, and he placed it within creation. This schedule is structured into the fabric of creation: the alternation of light and darkness as the earth spins, the fixed variations of light and tides as the moon circles the earth, the sequence of the seasons as the earth gently gyrates in its journey around the sun. All these things happen on schedule. Augustine remarks in The Confessions, even back then, that all of these things can be predicted with scientific precision for centuries in advance. They could already do that in the early fifth century, without telescopes and without spaceships and things of this sort.

In holy Scripture, these events occur with a regular pattern established by God. Indeed, these seasons are, as it were, the clauses in a contract. They’re the components of a covenant. The Almighty swore to Noah: As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.

In holy Scripture these scheduled times have a quality of event. I’ve talked many times and I don’t need to go into it this morning: the difference between chronos and kairos. The Greek kairos which we translate in English as “time,” kairos, means an event, something that happens. These kairoi, plural, represent the will and the wisdom of God. And yet, the divine schedule, fixed in the structure of nature, is not the final authority with respect to either the will or the wisdom of God. Even the natural order and the natural schedule stand under the judgment of God. All things stand under the judgment of God, even the schedules that he himself makes.

Now, during the final week of his life, in fact, Jesus openly ignored that natural schedule. Both Matthew and Mark told a story, this most amazing story. It’s a disconcerting story. They describe how our Lord, when he entered Jerusalem, on the Monday after Palm Sunday, became hungry. He saw a fig tree. Jesus approached the tree to learn if it had any figs. Incidentally, the parable of the vineyard is found soon after this incident, very close. In that account, too, the owner of the vineyard never received any of the fruit.

Why was there no fruit on the tree? St. Mark explains that the fig tree had no fruit because it was not the kairos sykon; it was not the time for figs. Now you would think that the Creator of the universe would know that. [Laughter] It wasn’t fig season. That’s why he found no fruit on the tree. But notice that the natural season, the kairos, is not his. It is a most curious thought. Fig season is built into the structure of creation. Therefore it comes from God and reveals the will and wisdom of God. Fig season is scheduled.

You see, what we observe in this story is jarring and uncomfortable. It’s very difficult to domesticate this Jesus, and that is the great danger that Christians face: the danger of domesticating him. The Savior of the world dries up this poor, unoffending fig tree, which was simply adhering to the calendar of the scheduled harvest. Moreover, he did it without filling out an environmental impact statement! [Laughter] I could tell you, this story has caused lots and lots of consternation for certain sorts of people. If they had nothing else to march about, they’d march about this. They’d carry signs: “Unfair to Figs!” “Fig Liberation!”

But you see the point of this story is that God’s activity in human history does not follow the natural order. It is not predictable. God has a different kairos. There is no foreseeable symmetry in what God does for man’s salvation. It fits no expected pattern. The Lord’s salvific activity is not confined to the natural order. It does not fit a natural schedule. And nature provides no adequate basis for history. That’s very, very important. It’s impossible for us to domesticate God. He doesn’t fit into the natural order.

Second, let’s talk about the liturgical schedule. The God who arranged the structure of nature also provided the sequence of festal seasons, these liturgical kairoi, these events. God gives us the liturgical calendar. Much of the Bible is taken up with this liturgical calendar. Long sections, whole chapters of the Bible have to do with the arrangement of the liturgical schedule, which we’re still following to this day, by the way. Anybody looks at the feast days of the Christian Church right now and compares them with the book of Leviticus could see it right away—or Exodus. It’s as clear as day. The Christian Church has always taken that calendar seriously. Holy Scripture testifies that the Apostle Paul, for example, on his final trip to Jerusalem, “determined to pass by Ephesus, because he would not tarry in Asia, for he hasted, if it were possible, to be at Jerusalem for the day of Pentecost.” He’s keeping the liturgical schedule. We’re still keeping Pentecost to this day, as did the Jews, and as the Jews do.

And yet, Jesus, on another occasion, made it clear that the liturgical does not and must not have the final word. This second story, taken from the Gospel of John, is even more disturbing than the story about the fig tree, and lots and lots of ink has been spilled on this, mainly in German. The God who arranged this schedule, how does he keep it? Let me read you this passage from John, and I’ll comment through as I read it to you.

Now the Jews’ feast of tabernacles was at hand.

Tabernacles is held in the fall, right? Sukkoth, Tabernacles. The Western Church—we haven’t preserved that so well in the Eastern Church—the Western Church has preserved it very carefully, what they call the September Ember Days.

Jesus’ brethren therefore said to him, “Depart from here and go into Judea, that your disciples may see the works that you are doing, for no one does anything in secret (in krypto, in secret) if he is looking to make himself known in public. If you do these things, manifest yourself to the world (to kosmo).” For even his brethren did not believe in him.

Go down to Jerusalem for the feast of booths, of tabernacles.

And Jesus said to them, “My kairos (my time, my kairos) has not yet come, but your time (kairos hemon) is always ready. The world (ho kosmos—he uses the same word there) is unable to hate you. (The world is unable to hate you.) But it hates me because I testify that its works are evil. You (and in the Greek the “you” is emphatic: it’s in emphatic position and it’s stated) go up to the feast. I am not going up to the feast just yet, for my kairos, my time, has not yet been fulfilled (peplerotai).”

When he had said these things to them, he remained in Galilee. But when his brethren had gone up, then he went up to the feast, not openly, but en krypto, in secret.

Very interesting. This passage in John has long been a problematic text. Some readers are shocked that our Lord appears to be deceiving his relatives. He goes to Jerusalem after he says he won’t go. Now, it’s an easy thing to see this incongruity as double-talk, equivocation, and even deception. It’s amazing how Christians for centuries can explain it so somehow Jesus is constantly using verbal legerdemain to deceive people. There’s a book that deals with this problem, called The Jesus We Missed. I recommend the book; I do not recommend the title. [Laughter]

This text requires more careful analysis. You see, what Jesus does tell his disciples is that he will not go up to Jerusalem with them. He affirms that he is not on their schedule. They want him to go openly, manifest himself at the feast of tabernacles. He is their cousin. If he manifests himself, then they are put in a pretty good light. Jesus will have none of it. When he journeys to Jerusalem, it is en krypto; it’s in secret, and this is the heart of the matter. Jesus declares that he is adhering to a different kairos, a different schedule. He’s not on the same schedule as those whom the world loves, whom the world cannot hate. Jesus is governed by a kairos different from other men.

Let’s say this about the kairos, the event. It is not chronos. Chronos is time that’s moot; it can be measured; it’s measurable. You cannot measure kairos. It is more qualis, a qualitative thing; it’s more qualis than quando. In fact, Jesus has a rendezvous with the Father. In due time, at the proper kairos, he will ascend to another Jerusalem. In this story, Jesus is at pains not to be associated with his own relatives. He’s not going to fit their agenda, because, he asserts, they are worldly men.

Here is the most damning thing he affirms about his own people. It is impossible for the world to hate them. I think that strikes terror in my heart. It seems it should strike terror in every heart, that he might say that to us: It is impossible for the world to hate you. Horrible thing to hear. Now, of whom does our Lord make this terrifying judgment? You see, these relatives are religious men. They are the ones who show up for worship on time. They are religious people. They take their religion seriously. They, like the Pharisee in the parable, are going up to the temple to pray, and yet the Savior says it is impossible for the world to hate them. Their religious observance gives no offense to the world. The world does not feel admonished, still less threatened, by their attendance at the temple. Their religion is harmless.

For the last decade or so, I notice that the political order—things have changed somewhat more recently, but the political order has taken away freedom of religion and made it freedom of worship. I’ve heard that starting with President Obama on down. Always spoke about freedom of worship, never about freedom of religion. In other words: What you do in the four walls of your church is fine, but outside you will behave yourselves and you will do what the government says. You see, but that Amendment in the Constitution is there precisely so the church, so religion can control the government, so it can prophetically stand up to the government because that’s in the Bill of Rights will a view to curtailing what the government might do. And that freedom is given to the religious bodies for the same reason it’s given to the press: to hold the government to account. It’s important that be said.

The teaching of both testaments is this: The judgment of God begins with the house of God. Many pages of prophetic literature [are] full of this theme. That very prophet whose ministry began in the temple the year that King Uzziah died records the divine displeasure with those who worshiped in the temple. Hear this passage from Isaiah. He’s describing a liturgical service.

Last night, when the deacon noticed there wasn’t any incense in the censer, he said, “Fr. Pat, should I put some incense in?” You might haven noticed that I hesitated before I answered you? The thought that was passing through my mind was, “Incense is an abomination to me,” but I didn’t say that. I said, “Yeah, put some incense.” Listen to what the Lord says in Isaiah.

To what purpose is this multitude of your sacrifices to me, says the Lord. I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams, the fat of fed cattle. I do not delight in the blood of bulls or lambs or goats.

What does he mean here? See, these sacrifices—the rams, the bulls, the lambs, and the goats—these are the sacrifices prescribed at great length in the Torah. Isaiah goes on:

When you come to appear before me, who has required from your hand to trample my courts?

What’s he describing there? A liturgical procession! The ceremonies that professional liturgists spend so much time preparing and practicing—God here calls into question the very rituals that he himself has prescribed. They don’t get the last word. Isaiah goes on.

Bring no more futile sacrifices. Incense is an abomination to me.

And then he speaks of the liturgical calendar that we adhere to so faithfully.

The new moons, the sabbaths, the calling of assemblies—I cannot endure iniquity and the sacred meeting. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hates. They are a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them. When you spread out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you. Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen.

It is concerning these very things—the liturgical calendar, the scheduled rites of worship—that our Lord declares, “It is impossible for the world to hate you.” You’re there, what you’re doing in the building, and the world does not mind. And you do it correctly; you do it perfectly. But then you leave. Then you leave—and it’s all for nought.

Now, beloved, that biblical warning stands forever. The most perilous forms of a worldly heart are found in the place where they can best be disguised: in the house of God. A heart at peace with the world can readily hide in the smoky atmosphere of the incense. Under the flowing vestments and the elaborate rituals, it can take refuge from the righteous judgment of God.

Finally, let’s talk about the hidden agenda. Look at the word “agenda.” I think you know the word “hidden”: en krypto, the encrypted agenda. “Agenda” is a neuter plural gerundive in Latin, which means things which much be acted upon. Now, God has such a list, and the list is concealed. It’s part of what the book of Daniel calls the sod, translated usually as “mystery.” It is written down, but not everyone can read it. In fact, very few can read it. It is the service of the prophets to read these signs of the times, to read the message encrypted within history. This is why the prophetic books of the Bible begin by placing each prophet in his own historical context. I’ve spoken about that before; I don’t suppose I need to elaborate on it now.

It is important to read each prophetic book within its prophet’s own life setting, and the Bible almost always provides that setting. The Fathers of the Church were aware of this. One of the most amazing books to come out of the patristic period, if we can say that word, is The City of God. I know that some of you right now are reading The City of God, St. Augustine’s City of God. Someone told me the other day I think she was at book seven. You have to get well past book seven before it starts to really ring. In The City of God, notice that Augustine takes each one of the prophets and he places that prophet within his historical context. The secret of prophesy is first of all insight. Only then does the prophesy become foresight.

It is the ministry of the prophet to discover God’s agenda, his scheduled list of things to be acted upon. The prophet is the man who can read God’s righteous judgment in the dim and flaring light. Now today’s passage from Romans 10 sits in the middle of St. Paul’s effort to do that very thing. In the opening months of the year 57, when he was staying at the home of Gaius in the city of Corinth, Paul reflected at depth on the experience of the past two decades of his ministry, and that’s all summarized in chapters 9, 10, and 11 of Romans. It was the first Christian attempt to write a theology of history. Paul is dealing, as you can tell in that passage this morning, with the fact that the Jews by and large rejected Jesus. What did that mean? What’s the meaning of it?

I remarked to you just recently on the significance that the development of Christian experience tended toward the writing of history, historiography. It is marvelously curious that the epistle to the Romans stands just beside the text of the Acts of the Apostles, which is the first work of Christian historiography. It is the conviction of both books that God’s plans for the world, though they are concealed from contemplation, are nonetheless real and full of wisdom and power. The world’s expiration date is already written in stone. The expiration date of everyone here is written in stone. What the Bible declares about the meaning of Christian history we should take with a guidance for our own lives, these lives of faith.

In the eighth chapter of Romans, Paul tells us it is the Holy Spirit who causes all things, not just some things, to work for the good of those who love God. People often hear that God has a plan for us. People say that: “God has a plan for us.” We say it so often we might consider it to be trite, but it’s absolutely true. We don’t know the day and the hour. That’s why we must always be ready.

The Divine Liturgy that we celebrate here this morning may be the last one for any one of us. Every time we say a prayer, it may be our last prayer. We’re always ready, standing, lamps in hand, the wise maidens, when the Bridegroom shows himself. That’s important every day of our life, to remind ourselves when we get up: This may be the last day. Every time our hands rise to start the sign of the cross, this may be the last time we do it.

God has an agenda, and we are on it.