Living Between Beginnings
Sermon
SPECTATORS OR SENTINELS?
Sermons For Pentecost (Last Third)
The 13th chapter of Mark's gospel is positioned by him to serve as the last discourse of Jesus with his disciples. Through the artistry of the evangelist the words of Jesus become the words of the living Jesus spoken to the church in history. Two grand imperatives surface, "beware!" and "watch!" These commands are set within the perspective of the ongoing Divine purpose that transcends the present shadows and turbulence of history, the myriad occasions for fear, and the constant reminders of our vulnerability in a disaster-prone world. Here shines forth the hard-headed realism and hope that sustains faithful following of the crucified Lord amid the sound and fury of the human drama. Let the scenes unfold before us.
Scene I
Jesus and his disciples are in the temple precincts. The country boys from Galilee are awed by the temple architecture, the proud work of piety. "Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!" The response of Jesus must have caused a perplexed look to cross their faces. "Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down."
I sense great sorrow in these words. Jesus loved the temple as much as he no doubt loved the hills of Galilee. Who would want to see a magnificent landmark destroyed? But Jesus stood squarely within the prophetic tradition of Israel that proclaimed even religious institutions vulnerable to judgment when they ceased to serve the love and justice of the God to whom their architecture points. Sadly, the temple was part and parcel of a religious and cultural system whose harsh and exclusionary dogmas fostered a greed and indifference that were pointing to disaster.
The war that finally broke out was more than a war against Roman rule. It was also a war of the have-nots against the haves. The great estates of the wealthy were sacked and burned. Exclusionary dogmas had created within Jerusalem a teeming population of the alienated and resentful. These became roving and predatory gangs when the war started. It took no special gift of precognition to see the coming social chaos. Jesus had seen it coming from the start. Understand a parable like his story of Dives and Lazarus as an urgent appeal to an affluent and indifferent power elite to change their ways. Understand his acts of healing and forgiveness not just as private transactions but as powerful social signs that challenged a community that excluded all who could not pass the litmus tests laid down by piety, law and ethnic bias.
Throw into this social and pious mix a zealous patriotism fanned by religious fanaticism and the result was a ticking time bomb. No wonder Jesus wept over the city. It took no special gift, just solid prophetic insight to understand what they would do to each other when the eruption came and what the brutal Roman legions would do to them.
Just a dozen or so kilometers south of the ecumenical community of Taize in France is the town of Cluny. Cluny was once a major Christian center in Europe. Ten thousand monks served a cathedral that was rivalled only by St. Peter's in Rome. Today there is nothing left. The cathedral was torn down by the "sans culottes," the battalions of the poor, and the bricks were sold to finance the French revolution.
There is such a thing as judgment in history. Love and justice denied breed social chaos and turbulence. The prophets of Israel understood that. Jesus understood that. It wrenched his heart as he stood aside and refused to endorse the paths of violence. Do we understand? If not, how long will we ignore urban explosions in our land? It was a pensive group of disciples who listened to Jesus on this day. We hasten on to the next scene.
Scene II
Jesus is on the Mount of Olives, one of the beloved high places in the gospels. It is higher than the temple. That is fitting. The Lord is going to look out over the near and far horizons of history. Peter, James and John are with him. Andrew is there also. Just as Jesus had predicted his own passion to them, so now he tells them of their own coming persecution. But, hold on! The place and time in which he envisions them is different. We are no longer in Jerusalem during the days of Jesus. We are in the early church during the days when Nero was turning Christians into human torches. The imperial fist was thumping the church from the outside and false leaders were strutting around within and speaking as if they, if not themselves the second coming, were at least the special representatives of Jesus. All of a sudden we realize that here the Living Lord is talking to the threatened and bewildered church of Mark's day, and even our own day.
Then the focus narrows to Jerusalem and the description of a city under attack by the Tenth Legion under the command of the Roman general, Titus. Oh what days of terror, blood and illusions these were. The fanatic nationalism always simmering around Jesus erupted. False messiahs and prophets arose to bless and lead the revolution. Mark makes the warning of Jesus clear. Beware of fanatics and fanaticism!
That warning still holds, for messianic revolutions and fanaticism are not things of the past. Look about our world. Can you name a world trouble spot where religious or political fanaticism is not part of the problem? Every major religious community has its own brand of fanaticism. The holy war is still with us. It gives us pause to reflect when phrases like "religious and cultural war" are introduced into political rhetoric in our own nation. Such talk sends a shiver down the spine. The warning of Jesus stands. "Beware!" God does not purpose to win his victories this way through rejection, exclusion, division and animosity. Nor does God intend to inaugurate any new day over a pile of corpses. The war had no messianic significance. It was not a sign of the end.
Scene III
Suddenly the scene shifts again. The Lord lifts our eyes beyond the turbulence of then and now to the far horizon of history. The description of the extinguishing of the light of sun, moon and stars comes right out of the 13th chapter of the book of the prophet Isaiah. These are the signs of the coming of God. But what is missing, and this is crucial, are the words of Isaiah about the cruel, fierce anger of God and the destruction of sinners. This is not a day of Divine anger and vengeance. This is a time of gathering and inclusion. This is a day of a new beginning. Love rules this day. Could it be otherwise? Jesus said, "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away." Note, he does not say "my teachings." He says, "my words." The Word articulated and acted out in the Servanthood and self-giving of Jesus. He is forever part of our understanding of the God who was, who is and who is to come.
Our God is a God who comes. That note rings all through Mark's gospel. At this point the reference is to what Christians have called the parousia. This is a Greek word that means simply "to become present." The imagery comes out of a sophisticated biblical tradition. The clouds are not to be taken literally. When Moses goes up on the mountain he is covered by a thick cloud. A cloud by day accompanies the Israelites in the wilderness. On the Mount of Transfiguration a cloud appears. To speak of Jesus coming on the clouds is a way of saying that his becoming present to us will be in a way consonant with prior historical experience in the community of faith, but yet dramatically new. God is forever creating.
Scene IV
In the meantime, the gospel makes its way in history, and the scene sights back to the church living and serving between the times. The second grand imperative leaps out, "Watch!" The posture of wakefulness and watchfulness characterizes the disciple who persists in living as accountable to the coming Lord. We understand our own present duty in the light of God's yesterday and God's tomorrow.
Not so long ago a group of Native Americans took over a school building in Minnesota as an act of protest. They remained there under siege. Passions were running high among the residents of the surrounding area. Old prejudices were much alive. The National Guard was called out to maintain civil order. They threw a cordon around the building. The captain of the contingent maintaining the siege allowed a truck carrying food to pass through the lines. There was much criticism directed at him from the populace at large for permitting the truck to deliver food. In response to his critics the captain said, "I cannot change the past and I cannot control the future. I can only respond with compassion to the present." What a faithful way to live between the times. The captain may not have realized that in his action God's coming new day was already present.
Scene I
Jesus and his disciples are in the temple precincts. The country boys from Galilee are awed by the temple architecture, the proud work of piety. "Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!" The response of Jesus must have caused a perplexed look to cross their faces. "Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down."
I sense great sorrow in these words. Jesus loved the temple as much as he no doubt loved the hills of Galilee. Who would want to see a magnificent landmark destroyed? But Jesus stood squarely within the prophetic tradition of Israel that proclaimed even religious institutions vulnerable to judgment when they ceased to serve the love and justice of the God to whom their architecture points. Sadly, the temple was part and parcel of a religious and cultural system whose harsh and exclusionary dogmas fostered a greed and indifference that were pointing to disaster.
The war that finally broke out was more than a war against Roman rule. It was also a war of the have-nots against the haves. The great estates of the wealthy were sacked and burned. Exclusionary dogmas had created within Jerusalem a teeming population of the alienated and resentful. These became roving and predatory gangs when the war started. It took no special gift of precognition to see the coming social chaos. Jesus had seen it coming from the start. Understand a parable like his story of Dives and Lazarus as an urgent appeal to an affluent and indifferent power elite to change their ways. Understand his acts of healing and forgiveness not just as private transactions but as powerful social signs that challenged a community that excluded all who could not pass the litmus tests laid down by piety, law and ethnic bias.
Throw into this social and pious mix a zealous patriotism fanned by religious fanaticism and the result was a ticking time bomb. No wonder Jesus wept over the city. It took no special gift, just solid prophetic insight to understand what they would do to each other when the eruption came and what the brutal Roman legions would do to them.
Just a dozen or so kilometers south of the ecumenical community of Taize in France is the town of Cluny. Cluny was once a major Christian center in Europe. Ten thousand monks served a cathedral that was rivalled only by St. Peter's in Rome. Today there is nothing left. The cathedral was torn down by the "sans culottes," the battalions of the poor, and the bricks were sold to finance the French revolution.
There is such a thing as judgment in history. Love and justice denied breed social chaos and turbulence. The prophets of Israel understood that. Jesus understood that. It wrenched his heart as he stood aside and refused to endorse the paths of violence. Do we understand? If not, how long will we ignore urban explosions in our land? It was a pensive group of disciples who listened to Jesus on this day. We hasten on to the next scene.
Scene II
Jesus is on the Mount of Olives, one of the beloved high places in the gospels. It is higher than the temple. That is fitting. The Lord is going to look out over the near and far horizons of history. Peter, James and John are with him. Andrew is there also. Just as Jesus had predicted his own passion to them, so now he tells them of their own coming persecution. But, hold on! The place and time in which he envisions them is different. We are no longer in Jerusalem during the days of Jesus. We are in the early church during the days when Nero was turning Christians into human torches. The imperial fist was thumping the church from the outside and false leaders were strutting around within and speaking as if they, if not themselves the second coming, were at least the special representatives of Jesus. All of a sudden we realize that here the Living Lord is talking to the threatened and bewildered church of Mark's day, and even our own day.
Then the focus narrows to Jerusalem and the description of a city under attack by the Tenth Legion under the command of the Roman general, Titus. Oh what days of terror, blood and illusions these were. The fanatic nationalism always simmering around Jesus erupted. False messiahs and prophets arose to bless and lead the revolution. Mark makes the warning of Jesus clear. Beware of fanatics and fanaticism!
That warning still holds, for messianic revolutions and fanaticism are not things of the past. Look about our world. Can you name a world trouble spot where religious or political fanaticism is not part of the problem? Every major religious community has its own brand of fanaticism. The holy war is still with us. It gives us pause to reflect when phrases like "religious and cultural war" are introduced into political rhetoric in our own nation. Such talk sends a shiver down the spine. The warning of Jesus stands. "Beware!" God does not purpose to win his victories this way through rejection, exclusion, division and animosity. Nor does God intend to inaugurate any new day over a pile of corpses. The war had no messianic significance. It was not a sign of the end.
Scene III
Suddenly the scene shifts again. The Lord lifts our eyes beyond the turbulence of then and now to the far horizon of history. The description of the extinguishing of the light of sun, moon and stars comes right out of the 13th chapter of the book of the prophet Isaiah. These are the signs of the coming of God. But what is missing, and this is crucial, are the words of Isaiah about the cruel, fierce anger of God and the destruction of sinners. This is not a day of Divine anger and vengeance. This is a time of gathering and inclusion. This is a day of a new beginning. Love rules this day. Could it be otherwise? Jesus said, "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away." Note, he does not say "my teachings." He says, "my words." The Word articulated and acted out in the Servanthood and self-giving of Jesus. He is forever part of our understanding of the God who was, who is and who is to come.
Our God is a God who comes. That note rings all through Mark's gospel. At this point the reference is to what Christians have called the parousia. This is a Greek word that means simply "to become present." The imagery comes out of a sophisticated biblical tradition. The clouds are not to be taken literally. When Moses goes up on the mountain he is covered by a thick cloud. A cloud by day accompanies the Israelites in the wilderness. On the Mount of Transfiguration a cloud appears. To speak of Jesus coming on the clouds is a way of saying that his becoming present to us will be in a way consonant with prior historical experience in the community of faith, but yet dramatically new. God is forever creating.
Scene IV
In the meantime, the gospel makes its way in history, and the scene sights back to the church living and serving between the times. The second grand imperative leaps out, "Watch!" The posture of wakefulness and watchfulness characterizes the disciple who persists in living as accountable to the coming Lord. We understand our own present duty in the light of God's yesterday and God's tomorrow.
Not so long ago a group of Native Americans took over a school building in Minnesota as an act of protest. They remained there under siege. Passions were running high among the residents of the surrounding area. Old prejudices were much alive. The National Guard was called out to maintain civil order. They threw a cordon around the building. The captain of the contingent maintaining the siege allowed a truck carrying food to pass through the lines. There was much criticism directed at him from the populace at large for permitting the truck to deliver food. In response to his critics the captain said, "I cannot change the past and I cannot control the future. I can only respond with compassion to the present." What a faithful way to live between the times. The captain may not have realized that in his action God's coming new day was already present.
