Pentecost 26B
November 17, 2024
Mark 13:1-8
INTRODCUTION
Each fall, as our church year moves toward the end of the lectionary cycle and into Advent, we have a couple weeks of hearing what we call apocalyptic texts. We often associate that word, “apocalypse,” with the book of Revelation, with its strange creatures and death and destruction and the end of the world as we know it – and finally, Jesus’ reign. Revelation is indeed one of the apocalyptic books in the Bible, but it is not the only one! Daniel, which we will hear from in a moment, is quite apocalyptic as well. And so is our gospel reading today from Mark 13 – the chapter known to all students of the Bible as “Mark’s little apocalypse.” Jesus is not making up a new genre here. He is following the model of apocalyptic prophets, like Daniel, who have gone before him.
So, as we gear up for these texts, let me offer some insight on what that word, apocalypse, actually means. It comes from a Greek word that means “revelation,” something being revealed, “an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling.” While that word “apocalypse” is kind of terrifying, I actually find this definition much more helpful, because it brings with it the sense of greater understanding. It is a revealing of things that were there all along, but we either couldn’t or wouldn’t see or acknowledge them. Once they are made visible, it can be terrifying at first, but then, once they are in the light, these previously hidden evils and threats can be dealt with.
So, hang onto your hats, folks, as we enter a few weeks of unveiling and seeing things for what they are. While these texts were written for a very particular historical context, you will find plenty, I think, that is relatable to whatever uncovering, unveiling, or revealing is happening in your own life and the world around us. Let’s listen. [READ]
 |
| Model of the 2nd Jerusalem Temple |
Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
A couple weeks ago, I had the chance to go to a two-day event with one of my favorite preaching and Bible scholars. In one of the sessions, she asked us to share what sermons are the hardest ones for us to preach. I said, “The Sundays in November with all the apocalyptic texts.” Someone else said, “The ones that feel too close to home.” Well today, friends, I offer you: both!
Truth is, part of the reason I don’t like preaching on these Sundays in November with apocalyptic texts is precisely because they feel so close to home! Being in November, they often fall after an election, so at least half the country is mad or worried about something. There is always some major conflict or natural disaster happening somewhere in the world. There is always bad news circulating, making us wonder, “Is this the end? Are these the wars and famines and earthquakes that Jesus talked about? Is this, in fact, the end of the world?”
I’m not sure if this is a comfort or not, but the reality is that this is always how it has been. Mark’s context was certainly a time of great fear and violence. Mark’s Gospel was written either right during or right after the disastrous Jewish revolt against Roman imperial occupation in Palestine, which took place in the years 66 through 70, with the Temple finally falling to the Romans in 70. Mark’s audience was shaken to its core – the Temple, with its impressively large stones, was, for Jews, the sacred heart of the world, a wonder to behold, and the center of their faith and connection to God. Josephus, a 1st century historian, estimated that one million Jews were killed during this revolt – a genocide! It certainly felt to them like the end of the world. How could this be happening? Where was God? Where could hope possibly be found?
It is not a far reach for us to read this apocalyptic passage in Mark with a similar sense of doom, and a desperate need for hope. We have all had such questions about something, and many if not all of us have them about something right now. But terrifying as Jesus’ words today might be on first reading, I also think that they can provide us some of the hope that we long for.
There are three lines in particular that stand out to me as guidance not only for Mark’s community, but for our current moment in time.
The first is the disciples’ awe at the sheer size of the Temple. “Look what large stones, and what large buildings!” They are impressed by this human marvel – as they should be! The stones they refer to were 35 feet long, 18 feet deep, and 12 feet tall! And yet their awe speaks to something deeper: our human inclination to put our trust in temporal things, those physical and earthly things that are right before us. We imagine that these temporal things are permanent and trustworthy. Yet Jesus’ swift reply is, “This isn’t going to last. Not one stone will be left upon another. All will be torn down.”
It is shocking! Just look how big this Temple is, after all. But it is the first layer Jesus’ peels away in this great revealing, this apocalypse: the people, places, and systems in which we have put your trust are not forever. No ruler can rule forever, no government can keep control, no building is safe from destruction. All of it will be torn down. And the hopeful bit between the lines there says, “So don’t bother putting your trust in these temporal things. They won’t deliver. But God will. God alone provides us with eternal hope that cannot be destroyed.”
The next line that can speak to us is Jesus’ warning: “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray.” How striking that Jesus begins this, his apocalyptic discourse, with warnings about deception. In this post-truth era in which we live, this feels very relevant and important! Our current era is characterized by not only misinformation, but disinformation, defined as “false information that is intended to mislead,” a.k.a., lead us astray. Jesus’ warning shows us that he knew our susceptibility to such things. That’s not to say humans are stupid or easily duped. Rather, that when we are desperate, or afraid, we are more ready to believe anything that promises to make our lives better. We long for a savior – just like Mark’s audience, who is experiencing daily death and violence and the destruction of their cities and the Temple. When disaster strikes (whether that is in the form of natural calamity, or political strife, or economic downfall), when disaster strikes, people will wonder where God is, and grasp at whatever promises to fix their problems. And so, Jesus warns his audience here, and us as well, to ask the questions, “Is this really the truth? Is this really Jesus? Is this who we are, as Jesus-followers?”
Now, unfortunately, Jesus is not in the quick-fix business, which makes us all the more susceptible to falling for a false claim. If that guy over there is saying, “I can fix it immediately!” while Jesus is saying, “Come, walk the hard path of discipleship, and find your hope in eternal life,” well it seems obvious which way is more appealing! And so, Jesus offers a warning against that quick-fix offer (because spoiler: quick-fixes to complex problems don’t usually work).
But he also offers this enigmatic line: “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” I admit that at first this comes off as pretty ominous. It speaks to a long journey of pain that lies ahead. I remember birth pangs, how they started off pretty manageable, but as time went on they grew more and more severe until I got to the point of crying out that I simply couldn’t do it anymore! Some women die in childbirth. I have friends who nearly did. This is not the easy process promised by those who would come “in Jesus’ name” and try to deceive us.
Yet, I appreciate Jesus’ frankness about this. Apocalypse isn’t easy. It reveals things that have been kept hidden all this time for a reason – we don’t want to have to deal with them! We don’t want to have to deal with what these threats bring up in us. And when they are finally brought out into the open, and we can see what we are really dealing with, the work to heal is indeed difficult work. There are no quick-fixes for it. But that difficult labor, and the at times excruciating pain that comes with it, is all for a godly purpose: to bring about a new life.
And that is the real hope we find in these apocalyptic texts. It is first the hope that though he may be difficult to see, Christ is with us in the pain, and we know that because only Christ could turn a struggle, a death, a tomb… into a womb, a new life, into hope. Getting there is a messy process, to be sure. And throughout it we must hold each other up, and proclaim God’s promise to one another: that God will never let us go, and that new life will be on the other side.
The work of the Church is to remind one another of these things. And so, my friends, in the words of Hebrews, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
Let us pray… Revealing God, the world can be a fearful place, and we are prone to grasp at whatever savior promises us quick relief. Encourage us to put our trust in you and your promises, not the false promises trying to lead us astray, so that we would be drawn into the new life that only you can bring. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment