Readings
Daniel 12:1-3
Psalm 16
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8
I have a cute story to start out with today that I may have shared with some of you before.
There once were two brothers. Their parents loved them very much and only wanted the best for them. But, there was something strange about these two. You see, one of them was always positive and the other was always negative. With the positive child, no matter the situation his disposition remained sunny and he regularly expressed gratitude. While the other child was always negative regardless of his circumstances. He was a brooding and sullen child for whom nothing was ever good enough. Needless to say, the parents were deeply concerned about both children and took them to therapist after therapist. Finally they were referred to a research psychiatrist, who upon hearing the circumstance informed the parents that he could break the pattern in each child. He would provide positive stimulus on the negative child and negative stimulus on the positive child and move each of them towards a more normal response. In one room he placed the negative child. The room was filled with toys and sweets. While in another room he placed the positive child. In that room there was nothing but 2 feet of manure and a small shovel.
Well, after 3 hours the parents and the psychiatrist went back to check on the children. In the room with the toys and the sweets the negative child complained about everything. “I can’t believe they left me in here with these stupid toys! They didn’t include my favorite candy either and I don’t like cake!” The three of them were astounded. The psychiatrist said, “Well I’m sure we’ve had the desired effect on your other child.” They then went to check on the other child. To their amazement the little boy had taken the shovel and was throwing manure everywhere, laughing and beaming as he did. Now all three of them were amazed and confused at how this child could be so happy in such an awful situation. The psychiatrist went into the room and called the child over. He said to him, “why are you so happy, when this is such an awful place?” The child didn’t miss a beat. Still beaming, he said “well with all this poop, I thought to myself, ‘there must be a pony in here somewhere!”
Today’s Gospel reading, while it may not sound like it to modern ears, is all about hope. Jesus is leaving the temple when his followers marvel at the grandeur and beauty they see. He, in response, predicts that the temple will be destroyed. Disturbed by such a statement, later they ask him when this will happen. Jesus’ response is that there will be many disturbing and difficult events ahead, but that we should recognize that the end is not near when such things happen. In fact, the “birth pangs” are only beginning.
What we have going on in this part of the Gospel of Mark is called by scholars “apocalyptic language.” Jesus wasn’t necessarily talking about the physical temple being destroyed. Rather he was talking about the complete reordering of reality when God’s kingdom comes into our lives. His disciples didn’t understand that, so he made it clearer about the end of the current world order and the start of the Reign of God. He tells them that even in the midst of false saviors and social upheaval, God’s plan for creation is still unfolding. Apocalyptic language and writing is intended to give hope. It is intended to remind us that God is with us. It is meant to be a source of comfort and strength in the dark and disturbing times of our lives.
This stands in the face of some modern evangelicals who use passages like this to argue that the end times have begun. These folks make the same mistake that Jesus’ disciples did when he referred to the destruction of the temple. Namely they look at passages like the one we read today and the whole of the Book of Revelation and think of it as a literal event that will take place in the future. That has never been the purpose of these kinds of writings, and to try and make them into such a thing is a gross abuse of scripture and the intent of the folks who wrote this down to begin with.
No, much like the cute story we started with, the point of Jesus’ words is hope: hope that we are not abandoned in the midst of our suffering and hope that regardless of how dire the circumstances of our world are, we can trust that peace, good, joy, and justice are not far off. Or as one of our modern saints, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., put it “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
We, like many generations before us, live in a time where a passage such as this is important. In my lifetime alone there have been far too many wars, too many natural and man-made disasters, and far too many diseases of epidemic proportion. We need not look far to find false prophets, corrupt leaders, and human suffering. It is easy for us to feel as if the world is coming to an end. It is easy to see nothing but doom and destruction.
But this Gospel and other passages like it are here to remind us that while the end we fear may, in fact, be coming it is not the end of everything. We are being called to remember that the pattern of the universe is that when one thing ends another begins. It is the acceptance of endings in order to make room for beginnings. How can the Reign of God possibly break into our world if nothing ever changes?
No, the peace, justice, and life we long for will require the end to come over and over again. We can’t have the justice we seek for every human being until we see the end of a social order that consigns some people to the bottom of the ladder with no hope for change. We can’t have the peace we long for until the patterns of aggression and violence that exist in every society on earth come to an end. We can’t have abundance and equity until the culture we live in dismantles the systems of economic and social injustice.
But this isn’t just big picture stuff. Each of us will experience those endings in our life and ultimately with the end of our mortal bodies.
Regardless, the message is that these are but the “birth pangs” of a new reality coming into being. It is nothing less than God breaking into our lives and inviting us to experience the necessary losses that make room for what we so deeply desire.
What are the “temples” of your life? What are the things and patterns so large, so apparently permanent, so central that you cannot imagine life without them? Is it materialism, the seeking of wellbeing through the accumulation of things? Is it family and friends, who you cannot imagine life without? Is it your ideas about God or your embrace of the religious practices of your childhood? What else might it be? Having things, loving your family and friends, and embracing religious tradition are not bad in and of themselves. But how do they limit your ability to know the life you desire?
This is the point of apocalyptic writing. Namely, that in order for one thing to begin something else has to end. That’s as true for us as it is for the world. But it is not the only point. The other is that we need not lose hope. The very thing which makes things end also creates opportunities for something better to come along. Whether we label that the Kingdom of God or a just and peaceful world, we can take hope that life is not ended but transformed.
The truth is that every age has felt the birth pangs of the inbreaking of the Reign of God. I pray, beloved, that we have the courage to accept the endings of our lives, and the vision to recognize the grace that is always with us.