Sunday, November 17, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 13:1-8
As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.
It was my first day in Jerusalem. I had made the kind of “quick friends” one does when traveling in a group, and together we had set out to explore the Holy City on foot. We had no destination in mind and so it was a complete surprise when we crested a hill and there it was - the Wailing Wall, the Western Wall, that surviving partial foundation of Herod’s Temple. It was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. And the sight of it literally stopped me in my tracks.
We approached and donned the cardboard yarmulkes available in large containers for Gentiles like us. In between the stones, in the cracks, were thousands of pieces of paper, each containing a hand-written prayer. I put mine in there too. I don’t know what I prayed for that day, but I remember feeling connected to something far greater than that present moment or my singular life.
Historians tell us that the Temple was constructed of white marble and that its exterior walls were covered with sheets of gold. First century Jewish historian Josephus wrote that the gold on the temple "reflected so fierce a blaze of fire that those who tried to look at it were forced to turn away… It seemed in the distance like a mountain covered in snow, for any part not covered in gold was dazzling white."
It was a building meant to last for the ages, but in 70 AD, Rome sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple. And then the site was profaned, a common practice in the Ancient World, meant to completely humiliate the vanquished. Sometimes holy sites were even used as latrines. Imagine this room turned into a public toilet. One day, the Temple stood gleaming in the sun. The next day, it was a smoky ruin.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a continuation of last week’s, in which Jesus observed a poor widow giving her last two cents to support that grand institution. As Jesus and his disciples left the Temple that day, one of them, overcome by its splendor, remarked on how magnificent it was. What a shock, then, when the Lord replied: “Do you see these great buildings? I tell you, not one stone will be left on top of the other. All will be thrown down.” Well, that was an end to the conversation and a gloomy silence settled over the group.
They left the city center and climbed the Mount of Olives, with its bird’s eye view of the Temple. Finally, some of them screwed up their courage and asked Jesus about what he said. “When will this happen?” they wanted to know. But Jesus didn’t tell them when. He just told them what. And he said: “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”
This passage is an example of apocalyptic literature - a florid way of revealing how all things end. We don’t understand this literature very well, being separated as we are, by culture and time. And so, we read passages like this one and think them strange. Because they are. But they are also strangely familiar. Because we all know what it’s like to be afraid. We know what it’s like to think that your world is ending. Apocalyptic language may be foreign to us, but apocalyptic living is not.
And so, we look for someone to save us. Some look to systems or governments or leaders. Others look to faith. For the faithful, we want God to save us from our fears. But this passage contains no such promise. Rather, it is a blunt warning about how hard and unpredictable and unfair life can be. It is a reminder of all that is out of our control: of wars and rumors of wars, nation against nation, earthquakes, famines.
And yet, in the middle of all this doom, Jesus says: “Don’t be alarmed.” It’s almost a throw-away line; very easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. But attention must be paid.
“Don’t be alarmed.” Throughout the Bible’s pages, this message is repeated again and again. Angels appear to frightened, terrorized people and the first words they speak are, “Fear not!” The Risen Jesus appeared to his terrified friends, who had witnessed his execution and were now running for their own lives, and the first words he spoke were, “Peace be with you.”
So we know this is the message of Scripture, but the real question is: what does it mean to not be alarmed in a world so obviously full of danger?
Well, it’s not an invitation to magical thinking. And it’s not denial. And it’s not a promise that there is nothing to be afraid of. Instead, it is an invitation to a perspective, to see the human story and human history as something larger than the scope of our own years.
Jewish faith and the Christianity that grew out of it do not see human history as circular or random or meaningless. Instead, we see the human story as linear. Yes, with lots of ups and downs, but there is an end point, a purpose, a culmination. That is part of what it means when we say “Christ will come again.” To say that “Christ will come again” is to declare that chaos and fear and division and evil will not ultimately triumph - even though they may win the day. To say that “Christ will come again” is to push back against the despair of the immediate and to affirm that God has promised us good. “Christ will come again.”
And then there is that odd reference to birthpangs in this passage. It, too, is easy to miss. But the word is rich and true to our human experience. History and destiny are like being in labor. There is pain and blood and sweat and tears before something new and hopeful is brought forth.
About a hundred years ago now, I took a New Testament class taught by a wonderful and wise professor. I don’t remember much of what I learned that term, but I will never forget what Dr. Helyer said at the very end of the very last class of the semester.
It was a fearful time in the nation and the world, and we students were talking about current events, wars and rumors of wars. Dr. Helyer just let us talk and get it all out. And he did not tell us that everything would be OK. Instead, he reminded us of what we knew, but so often forget. “I want you to remember,” he said, “that even if this republic should collapse around our knees, and everything we know come to ruin, the Reign of God will stand forever.”
And all these years later, the memory of those words still stirs something deep inside me. It’s hope. It’s perspective - that my life, your life, everyone’s life… is part of a much bigger story that has a purpose and a goal.
God has planted that seed of hope in every human heart. And it is very resilient. It needs to be. Because the road we travel is not easy. There are many twists and turns. There are wars and rumors of wars. But up ahead - in the distance - there is the gleam of something far better. That’s the promise. And I’ve staked my life and faith on it. So, don’t be alarmed. Christ will come again.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 13:1-8
As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.
It was my first day in Jerusalem. I had made the kind of “quick friends” one does when traveling in a group, and together we had set out to explore the Holy City on foot. We had no destination in mind and so it was a complete surprise when we crested a hill and there it was - the Wailing Wall, the Western Wall, that surviving partial foundation of Herod’s Temple. It was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. And the sight of it literally stopped me in my tracks.
We approached and donned the cardboard yarmulkes available in large containers for Gentiles like us. In between the stones, in the cracks, were thousands of pieces of paper, each containing a hand-written prayer. I put mine in there too. I don’t know what I prayed for that day, but I remember feeling connected to something far greater than that present moment or my singular life.
Historians tell us that the Temple was constructed of white marble and that its exterior walls were covered with sheets of gold. First century Jewish historian Josephus wrote that the gold on the temple "reflected so fierce a blaze of fire that those who tried to look at it were forced to turn away… It seemed in the distance like a mountain covered in snow, for any part not covered in gold was dazzling white."
It was a building meant to last for the ages, but in 70 AD, Rome sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple. And then the site was profaned, a common practice in the Ancient World, meant to completely humiliate the vanquished. Sometimes holy sites were even used as latrines. Imagine this room turned into a public toilet. One day, the Temple stood gleaming in the sun. The next day, it was a smoky ruin.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a continuation of last week’s, in which Jesus observed a poor widow giving her last two cents to support that grand institution. As Jesus and his disciples left the Temple that day, one of them, overcome by its splendor, remarked on how magnificent it was. What a shock, then, when the Lord replied: “Do you see these great buildings? I tell you, not one stone will be left on top of the other. All will be thrown down.” Well, that was an end to the conversation and a gloomy silence settled over the group.
They left the city center and climbed the Mount of Olives, with its bird’s eye view of the Temple. Finally, some of them screwed up their courage and asked Jesus about what he said. “When will this happen?” they wanted to know. But Jesus didn’t tell them when. He just told them what. And he said: “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”
This passage is an example of apocalyptic literature - a florid way of revealing how all things end. We don’t understand this literature very well, being separated as we are, by culture and time. And so, we read passages like this one and think them strange. Because they are. But they are also strangely familiar. Because we all know what it’s like to be afraid. We know what it’s like to think that your world is ending. Apocalyptic language may be foreign to us, but apocalyptic living is not.
And so, we look for someone to save us. Some look to systems or governments or leaders. Others look to faith. For the faithful, we want God to save us from our fears. But this passage contains no such promise. Rather, it is a blunt warning about how hard and unpredictable and unfair life can be. It is a reminder of all that is out of our control: of wars and rumors of wars, nation against nation, earthquakes, famines.
And yet, in the middle of all this doom, Jesus says: “Don’t be alarmed.” It’s almost a throw-away line; very easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. But attention must be paid.
“Don’t be alarmed.” Throughout the Bible’s pages, this message is repeated again and again. Angels appear to frightened, terrorized people and the first words they speak are, “Fear not!” The Risen Jesus appeared to his terrified friends, who had witnessed his execution and were now running for their own lives, and the first words he spoke were, “Peace be with you.”
So we know this is the message of Scripture, but the real question is: what does it mean to not be alarmed in a world so obviously full of danger?
Well, it’s not an invitation to magical thinking. And it’s not denial. And it’s not a promise that there is nothing to be afraid of. Instead, it is an invitation to a perspective, to see the human story and human history as something larger than the scope of our own years.
Jewish faith and the Christianity that grew out of it do not see human history as circular or random or meaningless. Instead, we see the human story as linear. Yes, with lots of ups and downs, but there is an end point, a purpose, a culmination. That is part of what it means when we say “Christ will come again.” To say that “Christ will come again” is to declare that chaos and fear and division and evil will not ultimately triumph - even though they may win the day. To say that “Christ will come again” is to push back against the despair of the immediate and to affirm that God has promised us good. “Christ will come again.”
And then there is that odd reference to birthpangs in this passage. It, too, is easy to miss. But the word is rich and true to our human experience. History and destiny are like being in labor. There is pain and blood and sweat and tears before something new and hopeful is brought forth.
About a hundred years ago now, I took a New Testament class taught by a wonderful and wise professor. I don’t remember much of what I learned that term, but I will never forget what Dr. Helyer said at the very end of the very last class of the semester.
It was a fearful time in the nation and the world, and we students were talking about current events, wars and rumors of wars. Dr. Helyer just let us talk and get it all out. And he did not tell us that everything would be OK. Instead, he reminded us of what we knew, but so often forget. “I want you to remember,” he said, “that even if this republic should collapse around our knees, and everything we know come to ruin, the Reign of God will stand forever.”
And all these years later, the memory of those words still stirs something deep inside me. It’s hope. It’s perspective - that my life, your life, everyone’s life… is part of a much bigger story that has a purpose and a goal.
God has planted that seed of hope in every human heart. And it is very resilient. It needs to be. Because the road we travel is not easy. There are many twists and turns. There are wars and rumors of wars. But up ahead - in the distance - there is the gleam of something far better. That’s the promise. And I’ve staked my life and faith on it. So, don’t be alarmed. Christ will come again.
RSS Feed