November 18, 2018: May God’s words alone be spoken, may God’s words alone be heard. Amen.
“Wars and rumors of wars.” Now isn’t that just a cheery gospel. Geez, I was gone one week. What happened? Well, Advent happened, and this is how Advent gets going. Last week, on the Jesus Channel, he was in the temple near the treasury, where people would bring their offerings to God. Many brought large sums of money, but one woman, a widow – the marginalized of her day – deposited two copper coins, or mites. Jesus saw her and the enormous sum she had given, and he pointed her out to his disciples – told them to notice her. Then today we hear that Jesus and his followers have now exited the temple, and it was the disciples turn to see something. And what did they see – the enormity of the temple.
They had learned nothing from what Jesus had just shown them inside the temple when he pointed out the woman. And so Jesus warns them that what they hold as so awesome will be nothing but a pile of rubble.
Now, imagine how that must have sounded to them? I mean, “some of the largest stones were 40 feet long, 12 feet high, 18 feet wide.”[1] And, even though the first temple had indeed been destroyed, that was centuries earlier. So to those with Jesus, this was just beyond the grasp of their imagination, because this 2ndtemple had been under construction for most, if not all, of their lifetime. Kind of the government project of their day – taking way too much time to build, and likely lots more cost in the taxes on the people. Josephus, the Jewish historian, notes, “The exterior of the building wanted nothing that could astound either mind or eye. For, being covered on all sides with massive plates of gold, the sun was no sooner up than it radiated so fiery a flash that persons straining to look at it were compelled to avert their eyes, as from the solar rays. To approaching strangers it appeared from a distance like a snow-clad mountain; for all that was not overlaid with gold was of purest white.””[2] So, here Jesus is telling them that this will all fall apart even as they stood next to it, seemingly insignificant beings beside such a massive monument to the glory of God.
Then, imagine too how that sounded to those living at the time this gospel was written – when that temple was indeed just a pile of rubble, with only the Western Wall remaining. While to the disciples it seemed impossible, to those earliest listeners of this gospel it was their reality. What could Jesus have possibly meant? What stones were going to be destroyed? How could this be good news?
To understand this, Jesus is telling them and us that we need to change what we see. This is why I think these two gospel passages – the widow with the two mites from last week, and the disciples with Jesus outside the temple this week (and for good measure, the one from the week before with Bartimaeus) – they should be a single gospel passage. Because read together, they make Jesus’ point easier to, pardon the expression, see.
But today, Jesus speaks of wars, famines, earthquakes. He also warned his disciples not to be fooled by all of it, or what others might say about it. He tells them that these are just birth pangs.
Now, when I hear that, birth pangs, I think of this old piece of wisdom: “If nature had arranged that husbands and wives should each give birth, but alternatively, [first her, then him, then her…] there would never be more than three in a family.”[3] Now, I have never given birth, but I am pretty sure that there are a number of you here today who would say that the word “pang” does not even begin to describe what is happening to your body in the moments before and during birth.
But what Jesus is getting at here with the birth imagery is that whenever we experience birth pangs – new life is on the horizon, just around the corner, coming to us. And he wants us to focus on what is important, to anticipate it not fear it, that we too might bring forth new life.
The German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, once said “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.”
You must have chaos within to give birth…to a dancing star.
Stars are indeed made out of the chaotic dust swirls of the universe, gas clouds or nebulae. For the star to be created, the cloud, in a very real way, comes tumbling down. It collapses on itself due to gravitational forces. And emerging from that is the star – one of billions we look on each night in wonder.
Jesus was trying to get his disciples to see that sometimes things must be destroyed for new life to emerge. He was preparing them for his own death, out of which new life was born. As we say on good Friday (and at ordinations): “…let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new…” Or to place it in the context of Advent: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly…” Advent is a reminder to us of what Jesus was trying to tell his disciples – out of darkness comes new light, out of death comes new life. This is why Advent begins in this way – with readings about upheaval and dark times.
Advent calls us to pay attention, to shift our focus, to see differently, to embrace the change that must take place if we are to ever have new birth. To rest in the chaos that is uncomfortable, even taking the risk we must to be a part of God’s new creation. To see the dark cloud of cosmic dust in our midst, and the star deep within.
The Jesus we await is the one who refocuses our world, who shakes us to the core, who requires us to have courage that we might see the one he saw – the widow – who today would be so many we fail to see: the homeless, the immigrant, the addicted, those suffering from depression or disease, those without work, LGBT people, women, the lonely, the grieving, the imprisoned, the enslaved – to see them behind the stones we have built. Those temples constructed of walls of indifference, greed, neglect, and hate – laid stone by stone over centuries – and now looming so very large in our lives that we cannot see the widow standing in the long dark shadows cast by our work.
Jesus knows that if we are willing to be the pressure of love on the chaos of the world, we can be the force that brings forward a new star of hope. For the God who brought new life to us in the birth of the child we now await, is the same God yearning for us to experience the birth pangs of love born from our willingness to step boldly forward into what is not yet.
There was a Facebook meme I saw the other day showing an artist’s drawing of a caterpillar now in that transition just before emerging as a butterfly. And next to the picture were these words:
“Nobody ever talks about this part, you know, the part where you’re no longer a caterpillar and not yet a butterfly. You don’t know who you are and you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that every fiber of your being is calling for transformation. For disruption. For a revolution of the spirit. So surrender. Breakdown. This is not the death of you. This is the dying of who you once were. This is your rebirth, darling. And these are called “[birth] pains.”
God calls us to a revolution of the spirit, to surrendering what blinds us to the other – for transformation that will disrupt the cosmic forces of our lives and bring forth new life. And that new birth will take courage.
Maybe that is why in the verses just before these that we heard a few weeks ago, Bartimaeus was told to have courage, because Jesus was calling for him. Little did they realize this could be said of us all, because being a follower of Christ does take courage.
I am reminded of a story told by the Rt. Rev. Prince Singh, the bishop of the Diocese of Rochester and a former member of our diocese, in a sermon he preached at General Convention this past summer. He said, “When I was newly ordained in the Church of South India, I had a cure in the villages pretty much in what was called the Timbuktu of the Diocese of Madras, and I had about 14 congregations. So, I would travel around on my little Vespa. One of the churches did not have a building. So, one sunny, really sultry, afternoon we met for a Eucharist under a Tamarind tree. A Tamarind tree is a very shady, large tree. And we met for Eucharist, I was very newly minted, just made a priest, right, so I had very little clue of what I was doing most of the time. So, I went around and distributed the bread, and then I picked up the chalice and I noticed that there was an ant swimming in the [wine]. So I went to the first person and I said, “Blood of Christ. Cup of salvation. Watch out!” And then the second person, “Blood of Christ. Cup of salvation. Watch out!” It took me about two or three persons before I realized what I was saying! And then it occurred to me, yes, blood of Christ, cup of salvation, watch out! Because this is more than comfort food. It is a call for discipleship and leadership in a very troubled time, when Christians like you and I have to wake up, and be present as agents of love in a world that is hungry for genuine love.”[4]
“Blood of Christ. Cup of salvation. Watch out!”
Watch out is right! Because that life altering gift of Christ will change us. Through our baptism, we are born into him, into new life, and we are given strength in the sacrament of his body and blood at this table, that we may be renewed in our courage to live as him in the world, because stepping away from the stones of societal temples, and turning toward the widow among us will take courage.
It takes courage to change the way we see – from looking at stones that starve, to seeing the hungry on the other side of the wall.
It takes courage to admit when we are wrong and ask for forgiveness.
It takes courage to speak for the voiceless in the midst of angry shouts of hate.
It takes courage to not retreat in these dark days, but to stand on the rubble and boldly bear witness to the unconditional love of God that shines from within you.
It takes courage, but know this – if we hear the words of Jesus today to “not be alarmed; this must take place,” we will realize that these broken stones all around us aren’t to be mourned. They are not our destruction, but are the bits and pieces of our own ignorance, intolerance, and greed. These things do indeed need to take place, for if we are willing to see anew – then we will be the ones tearing down these stones! We will cause their destruction! We will create the chaos! All with God’s help. And the dust cloud arising from the rubble we with God have brought about will become a new star dancing in the sky, and that will change the world.
That will truly change the world.
Today is our final Sunday of stewardship season, and you will offer your pledge in thanksgiving to God, along with your gifts of food for the hungry, and supplies for the animals in need. You will receive something too. Two somethings really – blessed at the altar. The first was to be given to you last week, but in my absence was not, and that’s actually a good thing. It is a toy magnifying glass. Let it be a reminder to be careful about what you choose to see, what you choose to magnify in your life. Is it the widow or the stones? Is it chaos or the birth pangs of new life? The choice you make can be life giving and courageous, or fearful and life draining, to yourself and to the world.
The second gift is an acorn. Let this remind you of your pledge today, and the way in which what you offer to God will be planted in this church, and nourished by Christ’s body and blood, will one day grow to spread branches of hope throughout our neighborhood, and all around the world. We know this to be true, because others through the 160 years of this church have, through their pledges, planted the acorns they offered that are now the trees of life for our parish today.
And from this table today, filled with the love of God, we will set another table this week, won’t we. We will gather with family and friends to give our thanks to God for the love we share. And when we do, let us also pray to God that we will become the courageous transforming agents of Jesus we are called to be – that in the darkness of our time, we might bring down the stones of injustice, and from the rising chaotic dust of that destruction, give birth to a star – the dancing star of God’s love shining brightly in us, and through us – “a light to enlighten the nations” and bring hope and peace to the world.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Amen.
For the audio from the 10:30am service, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
[1]Homileticsonline
[2]Homileticsonline
[3]Laurence Housman
[4]https://www.episcopalchurch.org/posts/publicaffairs/79th-general-convention-episcopal-church-july-9-sermon-bishop-prince-singh
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 18, 2018
Advent 2 (7 Week Advent) – Year B – Track 2
1st Reading – Daniel 12:1-3
Psalm 16
2nd Reading – Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Gospel – Mark 13:1-8
