Dissipations

Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near …. Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth [Luke 21:29-31, 34-35].

Having some soon-to-expire—thank you very much, pandemic—“Marriott time” at our disposal, and not wanting our vacation plans to be too dependent upon the vicissitudes of the airlines, who are cancelling flights left and right, Jane and I drove down to Panama City (Florida) last week, scheduling an overnight on the way down near La Grange, Georgia, where Jane spent the first decade of her life.

On the morning of our Durham departure, I made a bet with myself. I wagered that I would not be able to turn off my so-called “professional” life of academic legal writing for the week that we were to be away, that I would find it impossible to shut down my “business” email and concentrate only on matters that are truly important.

To be sure, I cheated just a bit. Before getting into the car on Saturday, I rose early and crafted a blog post that would be broadcasted automatically on Monday morning. But other than that, I determined that during our week away, I’d concentrate on the sunny Florida panhandle, on Jane, the children and grandchildren (who all remained at their posts in Durham), some theological reading, a favorite Wednesday morning Bible study—even last week’s weekly meditation—but that workers’ compensation law would be out of bounds. After I placed my bet, I uttered a quick prayer telling Yahweh that I’d try to devote some time to Him as well.

The motivation for my self-wager? I’d looked ahead to several of the readings appointed for the Advent Season. The Gospel reading for this Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent (Year C), is Luke 21:25-36. There it was, staring me in the face:

Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap [Luke 21:34].

By “that day,” Jesus is talking in apocalyptic terms. He’s reminding us that the Kingdom of God is like a fig tree [Luke 21:29]. Careful observation will teach us that when the tree sprouts leaves, summer is near. While Jesus will say that he Himself doesn’t know the day in which the Kingdom will become fulfilled, here He allows that it will be foretold—to some degree—with signs. Lots of ink has been spilled over the years in these signs. The important point that Jesus is making, however, is not so much what the future will be like; his statements tell us more about the present. The present is a time in which the coming of the Kingdom is “near.”

Jesus tells us that it is so near, in fact, that if we are not careful, if we allow our hearts to be weighed down with, among other things, “dissipation,” we will miss it. The Kingdom will be sprung upon us like a trap.

My heart, perhaps like the hearts of some of you, is sometimes weighed down by dissipations. There is so much going on in the world around us. Dissipations are those countless things that distract us from true purpose. They are the thoughts and concerns that waste time. By that I don’t mean that they are merely idle matters. Some are, or at least seem to be, quite important. They are all those things that grab for our attention as a means of distracting us from that which is vital.

Whether it’s my “to-do list,” my writing schedule, my list of current writing deadlines, my spreadsheet showing my expected financial expenditures over the next two months, my voicemail, my email, sticky notes, or “Siri reminders,” they are all methods through which my life can be dissipated. All these things may seem important but, as Jesus points out to us, they aren’t vital. What is vital is our oneness with Him. When I check something off my list, I feel good, but I haven’t necessarily been devoting my heart and mind toward that which is ultimate—my Lord, Jesus Christ.

In this passage from Luke, Jesus is warning us not to let the cares and concerns of the world etch their mark too deeply upon our hearts and lives, since the worries of life can be consuming, and as they consume us, they leave little room for our Lord. This Lucan passage, like similar apocalyptic passages in the other Synoptic Gospels, has come to be understood as Jesus’ warning that we should not be so distracted by the cares of the world that we miss the fact that the world may soon end. We’re all on borrowed time. What Jesus is really getting at is that the world will indeed end soon. It’s just that for most of us, “our world” will end before the “end times” that the writer of the Revelation of John describes in the last book of Holy Scripture. We are not to fret about cares and concerns. We are to live each of our days in communion with Him.

And so, the season of Advent becomes a time in which we are to be watchful. It is a time of inactivity in a world that is frenetically rushing past us. Indeed, while the world is out there grabbing for one more “holiday” gift, stuffing one more spoonful of potatoes into our already full mouths, making a list and checking it twice, Jesus tells us to slow down, to raise our heads to the heavens, and be watchful for the indwelling spirit that is offered to us during Advent. As said the late Reverend Dr. Peter Gomes, in a sermon preached many years ago in Duke Chapel, “Don’t just do something, stand there!”

Well, back to my self-wager—my bet. How’d I do?

Pretty good. I was actually more successful than I thought I’d be. I didn’t write anything “legal.” I took no phone calls, although I get few of those anyway. I’ll confess that between my iPhone and my MacBook Pro, I did steal numerous glances at incoming notifications. As is my habit, I checked my “professional” pulse numerous times each day during the week, and as I did so, I recognized that the dissipations are strong within my life. Perhaps they are strong in yours.

What was odd—and wonderful—was that I seemed to notice that as I avoided the dissipations, as I concentrated on Jane, on Holy Scripture, and on my prayer life, I’m sure that I heard the waves break along the shore more clearly. I heard the mischievous call of the sea birds as they worked and frolicked in Yahweh’s great Kingdom. I felt the warm Florida breeze more fully on my cheek. As I gazed at the starry November evening sky, I think I even heard Yahweh speaking to me more clearly than He does when my mind is cluttered with dissipations. That voice seemed to be telling me, “My Kingdom is near. I love you. What have you to worry about?”