Sisters & brothers, grace to you & peace from the God of hope, the Christ of grace, and the Spirit of life. Amen.

When asked what he would do if he discovered Christ would return and the world as we know it would end tomorrow, Martin Luther is quoted as replying, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

That may tell you something of the “green” Luther as well as something of the “left behind” Luther. His response reveals both his high regard for care of creation, and also his disregard of any fear, dread, or speculation when it came to contemplating the return of Christ on the last day.

“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

In other words, life in this world is holy.

Despite all odds, hold on to the hope.

And, most of all, do something!

These themes run through all our texts this morning. In the first reading, the prophet Amos speaks on behalf of God as he speaks a stern word of reminder that there is a strong relationship — an interconnectedness — between our liturgical practices and our action on social issues — particularly on matters of injustice. God is saying to the ancient people of Israel and also to us: “I hate your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies…take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. BUT LET JUSTICE roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

What we do on Sunday mornings within these stained glass walls has everything to do with how we live our lives outside after the final benediction and the closing “thanks be to God.” According to Amos, it’s about letting justice — God’s ways of making all things right in the world — it’s about justice rolling down like waters, and righteousness — God’s ways of putting everything and everybody in good standing — it’s about righteousness rolling like an ever-flowing stream.

In other words, life in the world is holy.

Despite all odds, hold on to the hope.

And, most of all, do something!

As the prophet Amos channels the message, God seems to be most unhappy when we gather just to worship for the warm fuzzy of it all. God is unimpressed and beyond-being-slightly sickened when we raise the roof with our songs of praise but fail to let justice and righteousness flow from our lovely liturgies, from our holy hymns, and from our fervent prayers.

The cry of the psalmist in this morning’s psalm helps us imagine the person who is in need of justice, the type of individual or the kind of people who are in need of God’s righteousness and deliverance: those who are in any need, those who are experiencing any misfortune, those who are poor, and those over whom others are gloating and taking pleasure in their distress. Anyone for whom justice is being denied. Anyone for whom the world as it presently is, is not right. Those are the ones for whom God desires justice and righteousness to flow — through the people of God.

Yes, the psalmist too seems to be saying:

Life in the world is holy.
Despite all odds, hold on to the hope.
And, most of all, do something!

St. Paul’s words to the Christians in Thessalonica, in today’s 2nd reading, also announce that all life and all living in the world, even death and dying, is holy; that despite all odds, even though we may die, we have hope in Jesus: the one who died and rose again, and that by encouraging one another and that we can do something by reminding one another of the sure and certain coming of the Lord — perhaps not simply with our words but in lives that show forth justice and righteousness which are signs of a coming time when all the world will be ruled in justice, truth, and equity.

“Preach the Gospel at all times,” said St. Francis of Assisi, “and, if necessary, use words.” The act of preaching from pulpits might be best left for those of us on Sunday mornings who don’t have anything else to do and couldn’t do it even if there was. The real preaching happens when you push away from the Lord’s table and, having been nourished by the Word and Sacrament, you leave this place and return to the mess beyond this mass. You’ve had your “time out.” Now it’s back to “time in” the world: justice-seeking, peace-making, hungry-feeding, creation-caring, neighbor-loving, and others-serving — and in so doing, Christ-being.

“Thy kingdom come,” we will pray in a few moments as we do every Sunday just before we receive the bread and wine. And it does, week after week, as enact how it is in the kingdom of heaven: where all are invited to the table, where there is plenty of grace to go around, and where no one is denied.

The disconnect comes when the church prays “Thy kingdom come” but refuses to watch for it and recognize it when it does. Not many noticed when the kingdom came that night in Bethlehem. Only a few dusty shepherds and some farm animals.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus warns his followers not to be like the 5 foolish maidens who missed the bridegroom when he came, because they were unprepared and distracted. The 5 maidens who brought enough oil to keep their lamps illuminated through the dark night were the ones who finally able to greet the bridegroom when he came, and who went with him into the wedding banquet.

This morning, Jesus invites us to keep our lamps trimmed and burning, expectant and watchful for him in the faces of those who are in any need: in need of justice, in need of equity, in need of food, in need of shelter, in need of protection, in need of comfort, in need of health care, in need of advocacy, in need of civil rights.

Those who have marched in the streets of our California cities since election day certainly know that whatever the church may believe about itself, a clear and unclouded separation of church and state must continue as a guiding principle so that “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” as well as “liberty and justice for all” (and not just for some) can be a reality and not simply some imaginary America in the minds of 52% of the population.

Yes, all life in the world is holy. All life and all lives.

Despite all odds, hold on to the hope. Hope in a time to come when the One who is to come will make all things right.

And, most of all, do something! Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Feed the hungry. Love the unlovely. Fight injustice. Plant an apple tree.

And be the answer to someone else’s prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done — on earth.”

Amen.