Keep Awake

November 27, 2022 – First Sunday of Advent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 2:1-5; Matthew 24:36-44[1]

We live in a time of uncertainty. There is certainly plenty to cause us anxiety these days. There is the ongoing war in Ukraine, rising tension between China and the West, deadly protests in Iran, and never-ending conflict between Israel and Palestine. There is inflation, or maybe it’s easing up. There is the triple threat of COVID, RSV, and the Flu. And always, the political strife in our country. Things can seem pretty dark in the world right now. Are the nations beating their ploughshares into swords, and their pruning hooks into spears? It seems that way sometimes. And it seems as if there is little we can do about it except worry.

I worry about how I’m going to pay for college for Zach and Nathan. I worry about my retirement fund, the health of my mother-in-law, and when the cars are going to give out; and I worry about what I see and read in the news. What does it all mean? Where are we headed? And is there anything I can do about it? Sometimes, dare I say it, I fear for the future. I’m sure there are times when you do as well. Change comes faster and faster these days, and it’s hard to keep up with it all.

Part of that fear, I suppose, is because I think I’m supposed to know the answers. I’m a faithful person, I believe in God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the Church Universal, etcetera. I’m supposed to have it all figured out, right? But my faith doesn’t always help me figure out the right thing to do. There are times when I have no idea what God would have me do in a given situation. There’s nothing in the Bible about smart phones, Twitter, antibiotics, electric automobiles, or radioactive pollution.

The disciples lived with uncertainty too. In our passage from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus, whom the disciples have followed for years now, has entered Jerusalem and cleansed the temple. He has just finished a lengthy denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees in the previous chapter. The disciples, who know who Jesus is, are starting to worry that things are not going how they expected, and in their fear, they anticipate the end times. They ask Jesus, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”[2]

Religious leaders, scientists, and philosophers have been making predictions for the end of the world for centuries. They’ve predicted the destruction of the world through floods, fires, and comets—none of which have come to pass. The apostle Paul got it wrong; and even Jesus predicted that “this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.”[3]

Jesus tells them about many signs of the end of the age; but more importantly he says, “about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son.”[4] There is some mysterious day in the future when the judgment will come, but even Jesus doesn’t know when that will be. Yes, Jesus doesn’t know everything; and you know what? We’re not supposed to know everything either. Uncertainty is to be expected. It is nothing to fear. And faith certainly doesn’t mean living without uncertainty, not for the disciples, and not for us.

It is possible to live with uncertainty, to keep moving steadily into the future with no guarantee that we’re on the right path. We can live with the questions, seeking different answers if the old ones stop making sense. In order to keep us steady through the uncertainty of life, Jesus points us toward the everyday tasks of living – eating and drinking, marrying, working in the fields and grinding meal – doing them faithfully in wakefulness. Keep living your life, keep an eye on what is to come, but keep your focus on the here and now.  Live a faithful life, and keep awake.

“You know what time it is,” Paul wrote to the Romans, “how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.”[5] Things may seem dark in the world today, but “the night is far gone, the day is near.”[6] It may be dark now, but a change is coming. When the doorbell rings, it will be too late to clean the house. Jesus is coming; quick, everyone look busy!

Don’t just stand around watching the skies and waiting for the rapture. We don’t have time for that! We should do good works. We should do the best we can, uncertain whether we are right or wrong at times, but faithfully going about the work we believe God would have us do in this world. And, fear not! We’re not supposed to do everything ourselves. We’re not supposed to save the world. That job is already taken. Our role is to be God’s hands in the world, to work toward the realm of God, and the work that we do will be enough. Our task is to keep faith, joy, and love alive in the midst of dark times, and watch for the signs of hope.

What we must do is choose how we go about that work of doing good in the world. Mark Yurs, a pastor in Wisconsin wrote, “The key element for Jesus is not the work, important as it is. The indispensable part of faithful work is [what] Jesus names as watchfulness or wakefulness.” [7] The disciple is the one who is watchful for the signs of the coming realm of God. “Hope will come,” Rev. Yurs continues, “the deepest, best, and highest shall come – not from our work but from somewhere outside and beyond it.”[8] The disciples don’t bring the hope, they point out where hope is present.

We are faced with an uncertain future. Things look grim, for many people around the world, for people in this community, and for people in this room. And so, we must make a decision. We can’t go backward, searching for halcyon days that weren’t as golden as we like to remember them. We can’t stick with the old reality. If we do that, things will only get worse. We have to start living in the now, and living into the future. The decision we face is how we shall live. Will we fear the new reality, or will we face it with hope? Do we trust the signs? Do we trust the prophets? Do we trust Emmanuel?

How do we live into the future? Do we allow ourselves to be motivated by fear, or do we watch for signs of hope? Do we point out all the things that give us reason to give up, or do we keep our eyes open for ways in which we can make a difference? Do we turn our backs to the poor, or do we work together as people who have faith that things can be better? As Christians, we live into the future with glad anticipation, with hopeful urgency, awake with expectation of the dawn. “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.”[9]

Let us pray. O come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us. Cheer our spirits, disperse the clouds of night. Show us the path of knowledge, give us hope, and fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Jesus, as we come to your table, take from us our fear, and give to us your hope. Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Matthew 24:3.

[3] Matthew 24:34.

[4] Matthew 24:36.

[5] Romans 13:11.

[6] Romans 13:12.

[7] Mark E. Yurs, “Homiletical Perspective” on Matthew 24: 36-44 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 21-25.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Isaiah 2:2.

The End or a Beginning

November 14, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Mark 13:1-8[1]

What they once knew to be permanent, sure to stand forever, is gone. I’m talking about the Second Temple in Jerusalem, but I could just as easily be talking about the Twin Towers of New York, the Library of Alexandria, the Buddhas of Bamiyan in Afghanistan, or the statue of Zeus at Olympia. When I read this text, Jesus predicting that not one stone will be left of the great buildings, I am reminded of the poem, Ozymandias, by Shelly:[2]

I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

It seems that there have always been wars and rumors of wars, nations rising against nations and kingdoms against kingdoms. We frequently hear reports of earthquakes, and hurricanes rain down destruction along the Gulf of Mexico and the East coast each year. And, yes, there is famine, the kind which sends refugees in search of a new land, and the kind where the poorest among us are forced to choose between paying the rent and putting a meal on the table right here in our community. Yet, even with all this turmoil, the end has not come.

By the time Mark wrote this Gospel, the destruction of the Temple may already have happened. It was destroyed during the Jewish-Roman war of 66-70 CE. There were resistance fighters calling on all the Jews to join in a final battle that would bring about the end of the age. Mark’s community of Christians would have felt drawn to join the cause. The triumphal restoration of the Davidic kingdom beckoned to them, and not joining in the war may have branded them traitors. Yet, this was not their true cause.

These verses, a warning to the disciples not to be taken in by those who would lead them astray, gave the early Christians hope during their own time of persecution and tribulation. This is not the end of the world, Jesus tells them. It is the rejection of it. It is the birth pangs of something new, the Kingdom of God, which knows no end.

Now, we see cosmic struggles all around us. There are some who say the end is near, pointing to texts like this one, or Revelation, saying that the wars and earthquakes and natural disasters are signs of the end. There are numerous publications and websites which interpret every tragedy, every natural disaster, every famine as a sign of the second coming of Christ. Some claim to have secret knowledge of the coming rapture. It is attractive, and treacherous.

At the same time, we may feel like there are wars and earthquakes erupting in our own hearts, our families, our communities. And yes, for some the world has ended, as their lives have come to an end. Yet life persists, the world lives on. A new day dawned today.

In the middle of these dire predictions, that all will be thrown down, Jesus gives this amazing promise: these are just the beginnings of the birth pangs; this is first inkling of new life. The key is not to focus on the devastation, the ruin that might consume us. Rather, it is to focus on the signs of life that are also there to be seen. The key is to have hope in the on the one who is to come, the one who calls us to new life.

We are not to look toward the end times, hoping for the end of the world. We are to look toward the Kingdom of God, not to turmoil and destruction but to a new world, not to the punishment of our enemies but to justice and redemption. This message to the early Christians is one of hope for a better and more just world, a world that we build up rather than tear down.

Terrible things will happen, we can be sure of that. There will be wars and famine, earthquakes and storms. Yet in the midst of all of that, we have the opportunity to serve. In times of peril, people rally around one another and support each other. We put aside differences and work to alleviate the suffering of our neighbors. Coming together to help one another, to alleviate suffering, to love and care for each other is what the Kingdom of God looks like.

In 1980, Mount Saint Helens in Washington State erupted. What began with a series of small earthquakes in mid-March peaked with a cataclysmic collapse, avalanche, and explosion on May 18. The northern flank of the mountain collapsed, producing the largest landslide in recorded history. The avalanche buried 14 miles of the North Fork Toutle River with up to 600 feet of rocks, dirt, and trees. The outward blast spread volcanic debris over 230 square miles.

Countless animals and large swaths of forest were devastated, but life did not entirely end then and there. Some species managed to survive, protected by ridges and snowdrifts. Others scraped by at the edges of the devastation and literally crawled back. Plants and insects returned, providing food for small animals that, in turn, were a food source for larger animals. Together they sowed the seeds of a comeback that progressed in fits and starts and continues today. Most species that were wiped out by the eruption have returned to the Mount St. Helens area.

The time of destruction may be an ending. It can also be a beginning. We may be facing an apocalypse, through the pandemic, climate change, or political unrest. But for those who live with faith, who trust in a deep relationship with God, there is a way through devastation and suffering. God’s grace is salvation for people of deep faith. The new life is growing around us, reminding us that while all things grow and change, life continues, love is endless, and God’s relationship with us is timeless. Take heart, do not be alarmed. After the birth pangs will come a new birth. Let us give thanks for what is to come.  Amen.

Rich Procida, “THE LITTLE APOCALYPSE: Hope or Tribulation?” (2012). https://modernlectionaries.blogspot.com/.

Janet H. Hunt, “The Beginning of the Birth Pangs” (2015). http://words.dancingwiththeword.com/.

Emilie M. Townes, Rodger Y. Nishioka, Robert A. Bryant, and Pete Peery, Perspectives on Mark 13:1-8 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), pp. 308-313.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Ozymandias” in Shelley’s Poetry and Prose (1977).