“Be patient,” James says in today’s epistle. “Be patient…until the coming of the Lord.” In saying this, James almost seems to be chiding John the Baptist: John the Baptist was not a patient man. All his life he had proclaimed the coming of the Christ, the Anointed One. Now, in today’s reading from Matthew, with his life about to end, John the Baptist sends a message to Jesus, and you can hear his impatience: “Are you the one who is to come,” he asks “or are we to wait for another?” How does Jesus respond? Look at the signs, Jesus says. The sick are healed; outcasts are welcomed; the poor are valued: The Christ is here. That’s his answer.
It’s quite a contrast.… “Be patient,” James says. “Christ is coming.”… “Look at the signs,” Matthew responds. “Christ is here.” This isn’t just a fluke of today’s lectionary either. As it turns out, this contrast runs throughout the New Testament. It’s there in the Gospels. It’s there especially in Paul’s letters. NT scholars refer to this contrast as something they call the “already” and the “not yet.” On the one hand, it’s true: Christ is already here among us. On the other hand, God’s full justice is yet to come. These two strands alternate throughout the NT like interwoven threads. The temptation is always to notice one and forget the other. This is especially true during the Advent season when the readings seem to pound one theme alone, that God is coming. Yes, God is coming. And yet, as Matthew reminds us today, God is also already here. Both threads are essential.
The man who taught me this was the first Roman Catholic priest ever to hold a professorship at Harvard Divinity School. His name was George MacRae. George got that job because he was a truly great NT scholar, and Harvard cared about. George was also an extraordinary human being. Harvard didn’t care about that, but many others did. I was one of them. He was a very humble man — open, warm, inviting. George not only taught that God is both here and still to come, he lived it. Take, for example, what happened with a woman I’ll call Cecile.
Cecile was probably homeless. She was certainly marginalized. She’d also likely be diagnosed as mentally ill. Most who saw her treated her as if she were completely invisible. I noticed her often as she wandered the streets. She always wore the same blue dress, the same white beret. She always carried a bible, which she held open as she walked, repeating over and over: “The day of the Lord is coming. Hallelujah! And the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Hallelujah!”
Somehow Cecile found her way into one of George MacRae’s classes.I’ve no idea how, but after that she never missed a single one. She was always there, always in front row too. I myself preferred to sit in the back, but she always plunked herself down right in front of the podium. Her white beret became like a beacon. Not only that. When the time came for questions, Cecile’s hand was invariably the first into the air. Sometimes George took other questions first, but before the class ended he always turned to her.
Yes, Cecile?” he’d say. “You have a question?”
She’d nod, but what followed was never really a question. Instead, Cecile would start in on some variation of what I had always heard from her on the street. “The Lord is coming,” she’d say. “The Lord is coming. Justice is mine says the Lord. The Lord is coming. And the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”
“Not again,” one student muttered to me once. “The end of the world. Always the end of the world. Man! You’d think it was Advent.” With that he left.
I stuck around, though. I was intrigued with how attentively George listened to her, for one thing. Beyond that, though, I found his responses quite fascinating.Once, for example, after she’d gone on for a couple of minutes, he said quietly, “You’ve seen a lot of injustice, haven’t you Cecile.”
That stopped her at once. For several moments she just stared at him.
At last she said softly: “I sure have.… I sure have.”
George held her gaze. He nodded slowly, then turned to the class.“Cecile’s reminding us that this isn’t yet the world God wants it to be,” he said. “God wants things put right and God will put them right. Then the first shall be last and the last shall be first.’ Do I have it right, Cecile?”
“That’s it,” she said. “That’s it.”“Once again,” George said. “Cecile’s given us a marvelous summary of the ‘not yet.’ That’s very important, but never forget that it’s only half the concept. Also essential is the ‘already.’ It’s true that God has much more to give us, but it’s also true that even now God is here among us. God’s here in our hope, for one thing. God’s here especially whenever we care for one another. And yet, as Cecile says, the Lord is coming to proclaim God’s justice. Then ‘the first shall be last and the last shall be first,’ but the more we live that justice now, the closer that day becomes.”
Throughout all this Cecile was nodding emphatically. “Amen,” she said. “Amen. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”
Then one day we got shocking news: George MacRae had died. A teacher to the last, he had collapsed in the middle of a lecture. In many ways the funeral was a wonderful event. Dignitaries came from around the world. Boston’s Cardinal Law presided. Even so, something was missing: absent was any sense of welcome. This was a man who had treated everyone with dignity, after all, not just dignitaries. As the service ended, a line began to form to lead the casket from the church. It included everyone who was powerful, everyone who was famous. Heading it was Cardinal Law himself. The music swelled. The Cardinal took his miter. All was ready.
Just then a small woman in a white beret slipped from the pews and stepped directly in front of the Cardinal. It was Cecile. The cardinal recoiled, his face suddenly red with rage. For an instant no one moved. No one knew what to do. Cecile knew, though. Clutching her bible, she began to walk. She walked slowly, with great dignity, her head held high. The man to be buried that day had always treated her with respect. He had treated her as a child of God. She was there to lead him to his reward.
In the end, the others had no choice but to follow. Cecile led them all — the Cardinal, the dignitaries, the world renowned. Because here’s the thing: it’s true that the day of Lord is coming. It’s also true that it’s already here. But not only that. By living the truth of God’s presence now, we bring all the closer the justice that is to come. Cecile proved it: “And the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” Hallelujah!