11-24-2024 Bracing For Impact

Today we consider some of the apocalyptic prophecies of Jesus and what they might mean in the world today. Then we look at what to do now, and how to find our way forward. 

Transcript

Last week our Gospel text had Jesus talking about the large stones that the temple was made of, and predicting that they would all be thrown down, that is, the temple would be destroyed. 

The disciples, understandably, wanted to know when that would be happening so they could put it on their calendar and better prepare. To this Jesus added to the dystopian, apocalyptic vision, warning them of frauds who would come and try to lead them astray. He told them about wars, rumors of wars, kingdoms rising against kingdoms, earthquakes and famines. He ended by saying these signs were but the beginning of the birth pangs. 

And today, we return to a portion of the story we hear every year on Good Friday. Today’s reading takes place after Jesus has already repaired the ear of the guard (it was cut off); Peter has already denied Jesus three times, and now his judgement continues, this time with Pilate as the judge. And we know where it goes from here. 

I could tell you that these apocalyptic, dystopian, harrowing passages were hyperbole. But they weren’t. They were prophecy. They were truth. But no matter how many times we hear them, they continue to make us anxious and uncomfortable. We want them to mean anything accept what they mean.

Some theologians teach that all of Jesus’ prophecies were fulfilled in the 40 years following his ascension, while others believe that there may be some prophecies that will continue to come to be in future generations. That would be us! Both theories are valid. 

I could talk about cycles in history: destruction, earthquakes, famine, and wars, innocent men and women who are persecuted and killed by the state, and how these things repeat themselves from generation to generation. Work that we thought we had done that now we have to continue doing.
 
 But what I think I need to tell you is that these were scary things for the disciples to hear, scary for the Gospel writers’ readers to hear, and scary for Jesus’ disciples to hear today.

 We know that things are terribly unstable right now. Which makes these Gospel texts feel personal. The way Christian Nationalism warps the Gospel, and those in power and assuming power call for violence in the name of God feels like Jesus is being crucified all over again. 

 Maybe that’s why, before Jesus stood before Pilate, he reminded his disciples repeatedly, of what must happen to HIM: he must suffer, be crucified, and die before he will rise again. And when he tells them this grim news, you know they stopped listening at the “I will rise again,” part. Because the news that angers us and frightens us and has us texting friends…the news that keeps us up at night…and has us buying extra stuff at supermarkets in case of something we can’t quite name… that news seems to always loom larger than the reasons we have to hope. 

On the road to Emmaus, from the gospel of Luke I believe, when the disciples were still in shock at what had happened on Good Friday, their conversation was not about their anticipation to Jesus’ rising from the dead as he had promised. Instead, they struggled to understand why it happened. They were grappling with what they would do now. They were so lost in their grief they told Jesus, who they hadn’t recognized, how their hope had died with their Savior. “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel,” they said. We had hoped. 

The last time I was here…just 3 weeks, or was it 30 years ago, we too were living in hope. And today, many of us, feel like our hopes were dashed on sharp rocks. And we have not yet recovered.

Earthquakes, wars, infighting and destruction are both constant and cyclical. They are constant in that always, somewhere in the world, people are warring and vying for power and landgrabs and vengeance. They are cyclical in that this type of chaos tends to move around to different regions over the course of time. Guess whose turn it is right now? [yes]

As shocked as we might feel today as we watch our institutions falter and brace ourselves for their possible collapse, we must remember that this is neither the first time, nor will it be the last time, that generations experience such tumult. Progress always plays the long game. Resets and delays are a given. 

Slavery lasted in the United States for 246 years, and its abolishment was not and is not complete to this day.

Decades of protests and agitation preceded the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote; and women have only been able to establish credit in their own names for 50 short years. A short time in the grand sweep of things. 

And yet, knowing that progress has been made, that slavery was formally abolished, and women now have their names on credit cards, property titles, and legislation, doctoral degrees, certificates of ordination…that makes the sense of dread we are experiencing at this moment no less impactful.

You might be terrified. Maybe you’re just frightened. You might be angry at the foreshadowing we are seeing to imminent suffering in our country. We are bracing for impact because we know what is coming, because-- we know where we have been. 

And isn’t it a bit confounding that while we are experiencing this existential dread, others are elated, hopeful, eager to see how things play out as our country experiences the undoing and recreating of our governance. 

And the friction between these two perspectives is like kindling to a fire.

Which doesn’t mean we have to light it.

Because as followers of Jesus Christ, washed in his very blood, we know what to do in times like these. To be the light. To follow Jesus ever more closely. To cling more tightly to the rock of faith that steadies us.

For example, when it comes to the imminent deportation of immigrants and the refugee crisis that stem from earthquakes, famines, and wars, we know we are called to Welcome the stranger  In Deuteronomy 10 we read:

19 You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

And in Hebrews 13 we read:

2 Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so, some have entertained angels, without knowing it.

Can you imagine closing the door on a refugee only later, yeah, that was the angel…and at the same time, we know that Refugees and Immigrants and Naturalized Citizens are being threatened for deportation, imminently. How do we reckon what our faith calls us to do over and against what the empire plans to do?
 If earthquakes are understood in part as, the chaos of loss that communities experience in the wake of disasters like Hurricane Helene, Hurricane Milton. The earthquakes of wars with unconscionable casualties; and the endless sense of endlessness from living as one of the 117 million refugees worldwide, Jesus may as well be talking directly to us today. Here. Now. In this very sanctuary.
 
 So these apocalyptic words today, sadly, ring true, don’t they? To say they don’t resonate with us is to not speak the truth.

 So, what do we do? What do people of faith, committed to love one another, when we ourselves are anxious and uncertain and in need of love? When those we are called to love stand opposing us, undoing protections that keep us and our loved ones safe…what do we do? Perhaps, we start here: this is a time to give ourselves and one another even more grace. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Fear is real--even as it is motivating. And if you don’t feel fear, maybe you feel just unrest. Has anyone noticed that your patience lately is about as thin as rice paper? There’s a reason your body wants to clean and scrub and fold and organize and cleanse. There’s a reason you want to buy. There’s a reason you find yourself sitting in your car for a bit when you get home before you go in the house. The blessed silence is a balm. There is a reason.  And the reason is this:

 These are the beginning of the birth pangs.

 A shift is happening.

And while knowing what is coming does not mitigate the pain we feel when it arrives. Knowing what is coming does allow us to widen the lens of how we see events unfolding. It invites us to learn from similar times of trouble that our ancestors have gone through before us.

So do these Gospels, today’s and last week’s, help us at this moment in history. 

First, let’s remember that Jesus words to his disciples were never intended to frighten, but to predict. When we know it is coming, we can prepare. His words foreshadowed Roman decimation coming to Judea and leveling everyone and everything in its path, including the path.

And even though knowing what is coming may not lessen the pain, it does give us a chance to prepare for it, and in preparing to intentionally choose to look beyond it….to see what might be unfolding through it.

Second, Jesus doesn’t take the bait when Pilate asks, What is truth? Jesus knows the truth. Jesus IS the truth. And as followers of Jesus, we know the truth, too. 

When someone is diagnosed with cancer, they often do not hear the entire plan for treatment because their mind locks onto the diagnosis and fear muddles what they hear….the truth of their  condition.

When they begin chemotherapy, it is hard to see the end when they have to go through numerous rounds of chemo to get there….the truth of their treatment.

Even with the news that a baby is coming, as elated as the parents might be, as long as they may have waited to hear this good news, I have yet to know a mother who said, “I just can’t wait to go through labor.”

Labor, by its very definition, is work. Often it is work that goes on. Or work that starts and stops and starts again, before the one who stops is fully rested and renewed. And yet, for all its challenges, labor creates new life. Not just in the darkness of the womb, but in the darkness of the tomb. Somethings must die before new life can grow. 

Brian McLaren, theologian, author, speaker, and activist, explains it this way: he says,

Something is trying to be born and something is dying. He lists a few things he sees as dying:

A world of angry, greedy men without empathy, is dying…

A world without concern for planet earth itself, that world is dying…

A world that measures value by wealth, not health, that world is dying…

A world of me first instead of we first, that kind of world is dying… 

And frankly, I wasn’t sure I agreed with him until he added this:

And LIKE a dying, cornered animal, that dying world bares its teeth and its claws and it will destroy as much as it can, before it dies.

If you ONLY look at what is dying, you’ll feel despair.

But something else is trying to be born – and we must not lose sight of that!

It’s not as loud and as angry as what is dying, but it’s far more important.

The pain of this moment might feel like death pains, but they are really birth pains. They are labor pains.

The darkness, is simultaneously, the darkness of the tomb, for what is dying

AND it’s the darkness of the womb, for what is trying to be born.

Be strong, have good courage, lean into your faith.

This is not a time to indulge in panic. This is a time to double-down in faith. A time to prepare. A time to rest and lean into the truth that is Jesus Christ. This is a time to trust in the Alpha and the Omega, the one who was, and is, and forever will be. 

Because labor has begun. And labor can take a long time. Yet at some point, God’s beloved people will hear the whispering of the Holy Spirit telling us collectively, to PUSH.

Push forward with love.

Push forward with radical hospitality.

Push and know that new life is coming because the end of God’s story was not written by Pilate. God’s story does not end in death. It ends with life. In this world and the next. [Amen]