Sermon for Nov. 14, 2021
Mark 13:1-8
We might be forgiven these days for
feeling a bit like the end is near. I
think that tends to happen when faithful people face very stressful times. For us, the stress list includes a global
pandemic, months of isolation, deep divisions politically and interpersonally, even
fires and floods of “Biblical proportions.” The hits just keep on coming. I think it’s hard for us to know both what
God has in mind in the midst of all this and what we’re supposed to do to make
any of it better.
Well, if we think we’ve got it bad,
I wonder how Jesus’ disciples felt in their day. Their lives were much more challenging than
ours. They scratched out a living with
no safety net to catch them. Women were
less than second-class citizens. Regular
folks had no political rights and were powerless against the Roman Empire. So, they were hoping and praying for a
liberator to rescue them and lead them as God’s king. And, as the crowds marched into Jerusalem on
Palm Sunday, they thought Jesus was the one.
Well, in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus drops
a bomb into the disciples’ dark world – or, more accurately, shines a light
into it. He and his followers are
leaving the Temple for the last time as it turns out, and one of them notes in
amazement just how impressive the structure was. The Jewish people had rebuilt the Temple when
they came back from exile 500 years earlier. More recently, King Herod the Great – the one
who’d tried to kill the baby Jesus – had refurbished the Temple as a monument
to his own power. The Temple and its
grounds would have dominated the ancient skyline of Jerusalem as, literally, God’s
house – the dwelling place for Yahweh and the locus of power for the Messiah who
was coming to set the people free.
But, Jesus says, … actually that’s not how
the future is going to play out, at least not immediately. He tells his followers, “Do you see these
great buildings? Not one stone will be
left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Mark 13:2). It’s his final pronouncement that the Temple, supposedly
God’s own dwelling place, is disqualified as “the focal point of the Kingdom”
on earth.1
OK – now fast-forward 35 or 40 years, and
put yourself in the shoes not of the 12 disciples but of the people who
were following Jesus a couple of generations later. They were compiling a record about Jesus – his
life, his death, and his true identity as “the Son of God” (Mark 1:1), the
divine king. And they were preserving these
stories while their own lives were on fire.
Starting in the year 66, Jewish revolutionaries had risen up against the
Romans and started a war for independence.
Not surprisingly, the revolutionaries were no match for the power of Caesar’s
armies; and in the year 70, the Romans reduced Jerusalem and the Temple to
rubble, sending the remaining Jewish population underground or fleeing for their
lives. For the people following the way
of Jesus, including those compiling what would come to be known as the Gospel
of Mark, they remembered how he’d looked at the Temple and its power structure
and said, “Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” They looked around and saw Jesus’ prediction coming
true at the hands of the Roman army.
But here’s what else they remembered Jesus
saying, just days before his crucifixion.
Even though you see destruction all around you, even though the stability
you treasure is crumbling along with the Temple walls, “Beware that no one
leads you astray,” Jesus had said (13:5).
Supposed leaders will rise up, claiming political or religious authority
– but don’t follow them. Yes, things
will be very tough – earthquakes, famines, fires, floods, “wars and rumors of
wars” – but “do not be alarmed” (13:7). This
is not what you think, Jesus says. It's
not the end. Instead, it’s the dawning
of a new age, “the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8). The Son of Man who’s also Son of God will be
coming to bring the creation to its fulfillment, to unify heaven and earth
under God’s righteous rule. This is what
the compilers of Mark’s Gospel were remembering: Jesus’ promise of hope even in
the darkest days. Even when you see the
Temple burned to the ground, Jesus had said, hang on; don’t give up. It’s only a sign of new life struggling to be
born.
OK.
But in this in-between time, as faithful people still waiting for the
Son of God to unify heaven and earth and bring creation to its fulfillment – what
are we supposed to do now? Maybe the
answer is both as simple and as grand as this: Keep the faith by living the
faith. Seek the kingdom by being the
kingdom.
Just two weeks ago, we heard Jesus and the
wise scribe agreeing about first principles: First, love God with everything
you’ve got. Second, love your neighbor
in the same way as you love yourself, recognizing that both of you are dearly
beloved, made in God’s image and likeness.
The world may feel like it’s crashing down around you, but that doesn’t change
the directive: Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God. And – despite how long and as hard the road
seems to be – trust that God is there with you, empowering you as a bearer of light,
an instrument of love.
In a hard time, bringing God’s kingdom
into being can take the shape of choosing to witness against the darkness
around us. Here’s an example happening right
now. A group of people from St. Andrew’s
are partnering with people from St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Lee’s Summit, as
well as St. Paul’s Episcopal Church and Day School in Kansas City, to welcome a
refugee family from Afghanistan. You may
have seen the story on Channel 41 on Wednesday night, featuring our own Susan
Paynter. Well, a family has now arrived:
a mom, a dad, and four children ranging in age from 9 to 20. Just that would be good enough, but I also
love the kingdom witness of how this family is being cared for. These Christian congregations came together
to prepare the family’s house. The
resettlement partner in this process is Jewish Vocational Services, which brought
the family here and will get them ready for jobs and independent living. And when the family arrived in Kansas City, a
local Muslim group had a meal waiting for them and will walk alongside them as
they make their way in a drastically different culture. So, as Susan Paynter said in the story on
Channel 41, “Christians, Jews, and Muslims working together to help a family –
it’s America at its best.”2 In
a dark time, there you see the light of God’s love breaking through as faithful
people pass the peace.
But passing the peace doesn’t have to be dramatic
to be powerful. You can see examples on the
cover of the bulletin this morning and on the walls in the entryway. One person leads a study group here. Another works with a 12-step program. Another buys groceries for a neighbor who can’t
drive. Another volunteers in a feeding ministry. Another cares for a spouse at home. And each of us has the chance to pass the
peace through our financial pledges to the church because those gifts make
possible the kingdom work that happens here every day through the ministry of St.
Andrew’s amazing staff. Whether it’s
coordinating pastoral care, or ministering with kids and youth, or leading classes,
or serving people in the community, or serving you when you come into the
office – in a hundred ways, our gifted staff members make God’s love come alive
here. And your pledges of financial support
make that work possible.
But passing the peace also happens very quietly sometimes, very personally – a small point of light shining into a dark corner. It may not last long, and no one may see it but you. But those small, personal acts of passing the peace are empowered by the same promise Jesus made to his followers: that God will set the world to rights. We’re here to point toward it, to prepare the way for the Love that will come among us in power and great glory – and sometimes, we do that just one cup of coffee at a time. For that, here’s parishioner Christina Santiago Turner.
1.
Mark, Interpretation, 236.
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