As we move toward the close of the liturgical year, we encounter texts that speak of our ultimate hope in the promised day of the Lord and ways in which we can live faithfully in the meantime. We are reminded that we are not to be concerned about the details of the Lord's coming—neither its timing nor form. Instead, we are to continue to live out our promises to God and others.

By this point in the book of Joshua, the people of Israel had settled into a life very different from the nomadic existence of their ancestors who had traversed the wilderness. The exigencies of sheer existence that had consumed the attention of the Israelites who followed Moses and, later, Joshua into the promised land were replaced by concerns about the conquest and division of land and the dangers of syncretism as the Israelites came into contact with foreign peoples and practices. The temptations facing the Israelites in Canaan were different from but no less significant than the temptations that had plagued their wilderness journey.

One of those temptations—the temptation to abandon the God who had brought the people of Israel out of the land of Egypt and had entered into a covenant relationship with them—was both old and new. It was old in the sense that the people had repeatedly become discouraged and disobedient on their journey, sometimes provoking the wrath of God as well as the wrath of their leader, Moses. But the temptation to turn from God was also new in that along with the comfort of settlement in the promised land came a sense of complacency.

Now that they had achieved the goal of a settled life in the land promised to their ancestors, there was less uncertainty to keep them faithful to the God and commitments of the past. There is something about human nature that draws us to faith when we are in need but resists those same commitments when we seem to be prospering on our own. It is the same dimension of human nature that causes people to flock to churches in times of war and community crisis only to disappear after the crisis has abated. The Israelites stayed close to God when their need for God's provisions was great, but once they had obtained a degree of comfort and security in their new land, they were in danger of becoming complacent and drifting away from God.

In order to ensure the faithfulness of the people in the face of their success, Joshua called for a communal renewal of the covenant with God. He gathered the people before their leaders and reminded them of the great work God had done in fulfilling the promises made to Abraham. As he and other leaders of Israel had done and would later do, Joshua spoke the words of the Lord, recounting the history of the people's journey and conquest and making clear the mighty acts of God along the way. In light of that dramatic summary of events, Joshua put before the people the choice between faithful service to the God who had redeemed them, or service to ancient and foreign gods. Joshua made his own choice clear in the familiar words of verse 15: "But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." The people added their assent to Joshua's choice, remembering all that God had done for them. That was not enough, however, for Joshua pressed them, as if he were asking, in the parlance of a recent television game show, "Is that your final answer?" The "holy" and "jealous God" (v. 19) who had saved them would not tolerate their fickleness should they find other gods more attractive. But the people held firm to their decision, bearing witness to their own commitment. As testimony to this act of commitment, "Joshua made a covenant with the people that day, and made statutes and ordinances for them at Shechem" (v. 25).

This text reminds us of the choices we face and the commitments we are called to renew as we meet the challenges of each day. Some years ago, before I was married, I read an article by a marriage counselor who made the point that couples don't say "I do" just one day of their lives. Instead, even the strongest marriages demand that spouses say "I do" again and again and again as they live out the realities of life together. I found that idea interesting, but it didn't mean a whole lot to me—until I got married myself. And now I realize how true that writer's words are. Marriage is a commitment that doesn't mean much until you experience the joys and sorrows, the plenty and want, the sickness and health that mark the seasons of life. The same is true of our commitment to God. It is only when tested in the fires of life—even the "fires" of comfort and complacency—that our commitment reveals its true mettle. And while in some ways the commitment to be faithful to God is difficult to keep, especially when we "see the sights that dazzle," as an old hymn puts it, it really makes life simpler, for all the decisions we are called to make are rooted in that prior decision to remain faithful to God.

The text from Amos, identified as a shepherd of Tekoa who prophesied during the first half of the eighth century b.c.e., warns of the coming "day of the Lord." The prevailing expectation for the long-promised day of the Lord was filled with hope and anticipation. It was believed that God would rescue God's people with great fanfare and drama, a cause for great rejoicing. It certainly was not envisioned as a day of accountability and distress as portrayed in these words of woe. This less sanguine account of the day of the Lord, however, sets us up for the eschatological themes that mark the conclusion of the liturgical year and the beginning of Advent.

The words of this text reflect the theme of the prophet: a warning of the judgment that will come upon Israel for its failure to remain faithful to God. In its pursuit of prosperity, the nation had neglected its spiritual and ethical responsibilities. Throughout this prophetic book, Amos calls the people back to their original commitments to God. In doing so, he echoes the sentiments of other prophets as well as the words of Jesus in the Gospels, all of whom remind us of the necessity of congruence between our words and actions. Here Amos reminds his own people—and us—of the relationship between our liturgical practices and our social witness. He challenges us to move beyond the confines of temple or church into the places that are devoid of justice, for in such witness we reveal our true commitment to God.

The Wisdom of Solomon, a deuterocanonical/apocryphal book attributed to King Solomon, addresses the Jewish community scattered beyond the geographic bounds of Israel. In such foreign contexts, it was not easy to remain faithful to the practices that shaped the people before the Diaspora. As a result, the temptations to yield to the ways of the dominant Hellenistic culture were great. This text reflects a common understanding of wisdom as personified in a woman, an understanding familiar to us from the book of Proverbs. The writer challenges the Jews, no matter where they reside, to pursue Wisdom as a source of the true and godly life. What is interesting and reassuring in this text is the fact that Wisdom may indeed be "found by those who seek her" (v. 12). Wisdom—that is, knowledge of the right paths to travel and the right things to do—is not as elusive as we might think. Instead, for "those who love her" (v. 12), Wisdom is "found sitting at the gate" (v. 14) and "graciously appears to them in their paths, and meets them in every thought" (v. 16). If we think of Wisdom in terms of the knowledge and presence of God, we are assured that God is wherever we happen to be, waiting patiently and graciously to lead us in God's righteous ways.

The psalmist calls the people together as a teacher gathering a class. The "teaching" (v. 1) to be shared is a recitation of Israel's history in the form of a "parable" (v. 2), as occurred at Shechem as described in the first reading, so "that the next generation might know" (v. 6) the mighty acts of God on behalf of the people of Israel. The teaching includes the "decree" and "law" (v. 5) established by God and the covenant made with their ancestors for all generations. Included in the teaching, however, are not just the "glorious deeds" and "wonders" (v. 4) of the Lord but also "dark sayings from of old" (v. 2), things that the people might want to forget. Instead, "they will not hide them from their children" (v. 4), indicating that even the dark moments of our past can enlighten the future. The honesty and self-awareness expressed in this psalm are qualities worthy of note, encouraging us to acknowledge our mistakes lest we repeat them. Only by remembering both the good times and the bad can we "set [our] hope in God" (v. 7) who is ever faithful.

The alternate first reading from Wisdom of Solomon continues in this text. The first reading established the availability of Woman Wisdom for those who seek her. This text sets forth a rationale for why one should seek Wisdom, with each benefit building upon the previous one. Wisdom begins with a desire for instruction, which reveals a love of Wisdom, which indicates one's obedience to Wisdom's laws, which results in the assurance of immortality, which ultimately "brings one near to God" (v. 19) and the "kingdom" (v. 20).

This psalm appears in almost identical form as part of Psalm 40 (vv. 13-17). In both versions, the psalmist prays for deliverance and with it the condemnation of those who seek to do the psalmist harm. "All who seek [God]" are called to "rejoice" and declare that "God is great!" (v. 4). The psalm ends with an acknowledgment of the psalmist's condition as "poor and needy" and the assurance of God as "my help and deliverer" (v. 5). In these words we find a range of human emotions not unfamiliar to us, including a cry for help, a call for vengeance, an eruption of praise, and an acceptance of the frailty of humanity in the face of God's power.

Having "looked upon [God] in the sanctuary" (v. 2), the psalmist is moved to a beautiful and personal hymn of praise. The evidence of God's "power and glory" (v. 2) and "steadfast love" (v. 3) leads to the liturgical acts of praise and blessing and the lifting of hands in petition. God has filled the psalmist "as with a rich feast," evoking the psalmist's praise "with joyful lips" (v. 5). A beautiful image of the safety and shelter offered to us by God appears in verse 7 when the psalmist sings for joy "in the shadow of [God's] wings." The soul of the psalmist "clings to [God]," upheld by God's "right hand" (v. 8). We are reminded in this psalm of our own need and longing for God, expressed so well by Saint Augustine in his words, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee."

The parousia, the second coming of Christ, was foremost in the minds of first-century Christians. They struggled to hold on to a tenuous faith in the face of persecution, secular temptations, and the hostility of the culture around them. Doubt and confusion about the teachings of Christianity had begun to seep into the community, especially among the newest converts. In an effort to shore up the faith of the church at Thessalonica, Paul offers a word of hope regarding those who have already died and who, the Thessalonians feared, might not then be able to partake in the promised day of Christ's coming. The result is a passage of this first letter to the Thessalonians that some regard as the most important passage of Paul's letters to that church. Perhaps the significance of Paul's words lies in their timelessness, for they speak to all of us who are both Christian and mortal. It was the hope of the resurrection and the promise of eternal life that gave the early Christian community its identity even as those beliefs shape our identity as the church today. Indeed, as Paul put it, because of Christ's resurrection we do "not grieve as others do who have no hope" (v. 13).

In answering the Thessalonians' concern, Paul shares his vision of what the day of resurrection will look like. Upon the Lord's command, "with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet" (v. 16), the Lord will descend from heaven to receive first believers who have died and then those still alive. What is most important in this vision of Paul is his declaration at the end of this text when he states that we all "will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever" (v. 17). That is the crux of the text and the word of hope that speaks even to those of us who await Christ's second coming almost two millennia after these words were written.

The Christian community continues to express widely divergent views of just what Christ's second coming will look like and how faithful Christians, living and dead, will participate in that day. In proclaiming this and similar eschatological texts, we would do well to remember that Paul's intention in these words to the Thessalonians was to offer encouragement and hope, not to provoke fear and dread and speculation. Two thousand years after the first coming of Christ, we still await the promised second coming. The precise time and form of the parousia remain a preoccupation of some groups of Christians. Our call, however, is not to spend our precious time on earth with eyes focused on the heavens but instead to live fully and faithfully in the moment and in the world God has given us.

The preoccupation of the early church with the parousia, and particularly its delay, continues to be evident in this Gospel text from Matthew. The parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids opens a series of three parables at the conclusion of Jesus' public ministry in Matthew 25. All three parables offer commentary on the questions of what the day of the Lord's coming will look like and when it might occur.

The parable that comprises today's Gospel reading portrays an impending wedding celebration. In characteristic style, Jesus introduces the parable with a reference to the kingdom of heaven, telling his listeners, "Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this" (v. 1). Ten bridesmaids prepare to welcome the groom (probably an allegorical reference to Jesus), taking with them lamps to light the way. Early on, the parable identifies the bridesmaids as "wise" and "foolish," with five of each, the description based on their supply of oil. The amount of oil they carried might not have posed a problem except for the fact that the bridegroom was delayed. When he finally arrives, after the bridesmaids had fallen asleep, the "wise" were prepared to do their appointed job and meet him while the "foolish" futilely tried first to borrow and then buy additional oil. By the time the foolish ones had replenished their supply, the wedding banquet had begun, and they were shut out of the festivities. With this story in mind, Jesus admonishes his listeners to "Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour" (v. 13).

The parable seems to exude harshness, judgment, and a clear lack of concern for sharing our abundance with others. In other words, it seems to be contrary to the many things Jesus taught according to the previous twenty-four chapters of Matthew. The parable's intent is not to contradict the faithful practices encouraged by Jesus but instead to discourage unhelpful preoccupation with things not given to us to know, including the time of the ultimate culmination of his ministry in the promised kingdom of heaven. While it is not for us to know when that culmination will occur, it is our responsibility to remain watchful and faithful—qualities portrayed in the preceding verses in Matthew (24:36-51)—until the promised day of the Lord. In discerning what it means to be watchful and faithful, we are brought back to all those earlier teachings of Jesus, allowing those teachings and this seemingly harsh eschatological vision to coexist. The time for generosity and sharing is not at the moment of the kingdom's coming but now as we live gratefully and gracefully in the sure and certain hope of the coming of the Lord.