2024-11-19
Brooke Strong
Sermon Text...
November 17, 2024
Pastor Vicki McGaw
I have two sisters . . . one who is quite conservative and the other who is rabidly liberal. The two haven’t been talking to one another much lately because each has viewed the potential outcome of the election as potentially apocalyptic. I spoke to the liberal one Friday afternoon and had to talk her down from a ledge as she quoted stuff from some pundit about the possible cabinet posts. “Let’s wait and see what happens,” I cautioned in an effort to calm her very strident voice.
Yesterday my other sister called and complained about the first one and a text she had sent to both of us on Friday decrying the actions swirling around the potential cabinet posts. I tried to explain how frightened our sister – and many other people are – by the outcome of the election last week, fearing that the country may be heading toward an end to democracy under the new leadership. “Well,” my sister defiantly replied, ‘that’s the same way I felt by the actions of the current administration.”
When I asked to what she was referring, she told me she was outraged that a 90-year-old woman was sentenced to prison for praying at an abortion clinic. Since I didn’t recall hearing this story and because it didn’t make sense to me, I looked it up. It turns out that the woman was 75, not 90, and that while she was indeed praying at a clinic, she did so while being chained to ten other participants inside the clinic, barring access for patients. She and the others were charged under the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances act. She was sentenced to 24 months in prison although the maximum sentence could have been 11 years.
I sent an email with a link to the Fox News report of the story, one of the many sources I checked but one I thought she might trust, then ended my email with these words, “I share all of this to say that news is very biased these days and often comes from erroneous social media reports. Please be careful before making claims that indict either party because there is so much skewed information bandied about. I tell the same thing to our other sister about the liberal sites on which she relies.” Sadly, I have yet to receive a reply to my message and, although it is still early, I think I may have offended my dear sibling.
We really have become a divided nation and it is causing so much suffering these days that sometimes it feels like the world as we have known it is coming to an end. Commenting on our gospel text for this day, Daniel Clendenin notes that half the people in the country worry that we have descended into a political apocalypse, but quips, “Of course, this would be equally true for the other half of the country if Kamala Harris had been elected.”
As I noted in the introduction to our scripture reading this morning, the 13th chapter of Mark’s gospel is apocalyptic literature, a genre characterized by visions, symbols, numerology, and surreal beasts. While wildly strange, the text also does something quite important: it imagines a dramatic reversal to a deeply troubling issue — the painful disconnect between the righteousness of a good God and all the evil in the world.
Jesus’ description of the coming destruction of the temple and what will follow leaves the disciples understandably shaken. They are in awe of the size and majesty of the temple that the first century historian Josephus reports was covered with so much gold that those viewing it in the sunlight could actually be blinded. But much to the disciples shock and disappointment, Jesus is not dazzled like they are. Where the disciples see an architectural marvel as a symbol of God’s presence, Jesus sees destruction, rubble, and fragility. “Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down,” he tells them.
But then he encourages them with two pieces of advice. First, he says, do not be afraid. These words feel counterintuitive in the face of all that Jesus predicts: famine, war, torture, earthquakes and more. Yet they are also what the disciples – and we – need to hear: that instead of fear, we need to trust in the mysterious providence of God’s love.
As he talks about the walls of the temple tumbling down, Jesus’ second bit of advice are words he offers repeatedly in this chapter: keep alert, be aware. Don’t be deceived; instead, be vigilant and discerning. In a world where the temple no longer exists as the place to find God’s authority, we need to be on guard for those who might claim it for themselves. Live in reality. Keep things in perspective.
Jesus cautions us to realize that God doesn’t fear-monger, incite suspicion or thrive on human dread. So we need to avoid hasty knee-jerk responses. Make peace and choose hope. Cultivate patience and love as the world reels and changes. Jesus challenges us here, it seems to me, not only to bear the apocalypse, but to bear it well.
Despite Jesus’ warnings, however, this kind of apocalyptic message can leave us reeling every bit as much as the disciples were. But as Doris Kearns Goodwin has cautioned in the last weeks, even if it feels like the world as we know it is coming to an end, we need to realize that we have been in even worse situations many times before. Encouraging people to be circumspect instead of alarmist, Kearns Goodwin reminds us that periods like slavery and the civil war created greater challenges, as did the Great Depression, two world wars and, most recently, the global pandemic.
Part of the reason that we react so strongly to stories like the one in the gospel reading is because when we hear the word apocalypse, we think of cultural references like the “Left Behind” fiction series, Marvel action movies, the four horsemen or zombies roaming through decimated neighborhoods with their vacant eyes scanning the horizon. But apocalypse actually means something quite different in this context. It refers here to an unveiling, an uncovering, a chance to experience a fresh sight.
Understood in this way, what Jesus offers the disciples – and us – is an apocalyptic vision. He invites the disciples to look beyond the grandeur of the temple and recognize that God will never suffer domestication or be bound by stones and mortar. Similarly, we are called to realize that God exceeds every institution, mission statement, presidential administration and every symbol human beings create in God’s name. And God is not enslaved to superlatives; we are the ones easily seduced by the biggest, the newest, the shiniest, and we’re also the ones who become terrified by what we call the worst, the most dangerous, the most ignorant.
So what is it that Jesus is trying to tell us with this story of earthquakes, famines and wars? That suffering has always been a part of life . . . but that life goes on despite that. He is making clear that on the way to the realm of God, there will indeed be suffering. But because we are heading somewhere beyond the suffering, there is reason to have hope. We simply need to stay alert. And the way we do that is to continue to do the work that is ours to do while we wait for God’s full realm to arrive.
And what work is that? The same work to which we have always been called: the work of loving God, our neighbors and ourselves by using and sharing the gifts we have been given to build community. By feeding hungry neighbors, caring for refugees, and partnering with local, national, and global agents of justice and compassion. We engage in the work that brings us hope, by visiting the sick, the lonely and those who are struggling. By seeking to grow as anti-racists. By praying without ceasing for neighbor, stranger, and enemy. Friends, this is how we stay alert. By continuing to connect with God and each other as we serve our neighbors, even when the world is dark and scary, even when it feels like the world as we know it is ending.
Listen again to the beautiful words that end the passage from Hebrews, our other lectionary text for today: Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another.
I love these words because it has felt to me for a long time that we have buried ourselves so deeply in our echo chambers that we only hear what reflects our own voices, our own opinions. We have separated ourselves from our neighbors and so we have suffered. As a result, it feels like the world is ending.
But we need to return to spurring one another on toward love and good deeds. We need to keep meeting together so that we can encourage one another, whether we agree on all things or not, whether we are thrilled or devastated by the outcome of an election in our deeply divided nation.
My friends, we need to remember that suffering is not the end. It is what we must pass through on the way to the true end, the true purpose that God has for us. And frankly, even if this is the end of the world as we know it, we can feel fine. Because we worship a God who brings life out of death, who always offers hope and grace, joy and love. So stay alert – and stay connected – as we wait for God to free us for a fuller life. May it be so! Amen.