Seeing What Is

Sermon

In writing this sermon, I am indebted to Debie Thomas of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Palo Alto, CA, for her article “Not One Stone” which can be found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2010-not-one-stone

In 2016, American social justice activist and author Adrienne Maree Brown wrote this about the emerging Black Lives Matter movement and the increasing awareness of racial injustice. “Things are not getting worse,” she wrote, “they are getting uncovered. We must hold each other tight and continue to pull back the veil.”

And that is what Jesus is doing in this text from Mark’s gospel – he is pulling back the veil on the reality of the religious institutions in Jerusalem. Chapter 13 of Mark’s gospel has been called the “little Apocalpyse” and in Greek, “apocalypse” means an unveiling, an uncovering, a revelation. Apocalpytic literature, whether it’s the Book of Revelation or the TV show “The Walking Dead,” asks us to see what is before us with different eyes. It’s not prophecy; it’s not predicting the future, necessarily. As writer Debie Thomas says, “To experience an apocalypse is to experience fresh sight. Honest disclosure. Accurate revelation. It is to apprehend reality as we’ve never apprehended it before.”

This story starts with the temple in Jerusalem, an extraordinary building in the heart of the ancient city, twice as big as the Roman forum and four times the size of the Acropolis in Athens. Huge and reportedly covered with gold plate on the outside so that anyone who looked at it in the bright sun risked going blind.

All who came to Jerusalem saw the temple as an extraordinarily impressive building. And it was. It was also the heart of Judaism, the place where God’s very presence was thought to dwell. For the Jewish people living in occupied Palestine, a colony of Rome, the temple also represented their inextricable bonds with God who chose them, the God who loved the people of Israel. The temple was not only impressive to the tourist but cherished by the believer.

And to all of that, Jesus says, “See those enormous stones? They will become nothing more than a pile of rubble, a ruin, a testament not to grandeur and identity but a reminder that life is fleeting and fragile.”

Before we go further, let’s remember what happened just before this story. Jesus had been sitting outside the temple, watching, and he pointed out to the disciples a widow who puts two coins in the offering box. He spoke about how the religious institution required that even the poorest and most vulnerable, in this case, a widow, was required to give of her meager means. Some scholars believe that in telling that story, Jesus was calling out the injustice and hypocrisy of the temple power structure that made the poor poorer.

And so when one of the disciples, who just heard Jesus’ critique of the temple, notes what an amazing structure the temple is, it strikes a very wrong note. Yes, it is impressive, but at what cost to the faithful?

Jesus pulls back the veil of what this temple has become; he uncovers the injustice and hypocrisy that has infected the home of God. As Debie Thomas writes, “…what does Jesus see? He sees ruins. Rubble. Destruction. Fragility, not permanence. Loss, not glory. Change, not stasis.”

And so I wonder, what is God uncovering for us to see?

Certainly in the past few years we have experienced events that seem apocalyptic. The pandemic has uncovered the rifts in our culture about science and choice and the common good.

The Black Lives Matter movement has uncovered the truth that the sin of racism still invades too many American hearts and pervades too many laws and assumptions.

The January 6 riot on the Capitol uncovered the power of the web of conspiracy that has dominated the internet.

Journalists have uncovered the social harm of Facebook, the insidious marketing of OxyContin all in the name of profit, and the preying on the vulnerable by Catholic priests.

A week of 115-degree weather in Portland, of all places, uncovers the reality of climate change and how it affects all of us, and especially those who live on the margins who do not have access to shelter, fans, or air conditioning. Add to that the increasing number of wildfires in the western United States and the surging hurricanes in the Atlantic and Gulf, and it feels like the end is nigh.

Wars and rumors of war, nation rising against nation, earthquake and famine: every generation can look at what’s happening around them and say, this is it; this is the end.

And in every generation there are some who believe just that, who give up on the world because it’s all going to end and what’s the point of working on anything?

In the 1930s, a decade rife with apocalyptic events, German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote this from prison while awaiting execution. “There are people who regard it as frivolous, and some Christians think it impious for anyone to hope and prepare for a better earthly future. They think that the meaning of present events is chaos, disorder, and catastrophe; and in resignation or pious escapism they surrender all responsibility for reconstruction and for future generations. It may be that the day of judgment will dawn tomorrow; in that case, we shall gladly stop working for a better tomorrow. But not before.”

Debie Thomas notes that Jesus then tells the disciples how to respond when everything is falling apart. “Don’t give in to terror. Don’t despair. Don’t capitalize on chaos. …avoid hasty, knee-jerk judgments. Be perceptive, not pious. Imaginative, not immature. Make peace, choose hope, cultivate patience, and incarnate love as the world reels and changes.”

I believe there is a call in this for us, a call to continue the work of God even amid disruption, loss, and fear.

Generations have done that, too: kept on even though it seemed the world would end. Now it’s our turn. Presbyterian Disaster Assistance has a great way to think about this: out of chaos, hope.

Out of the political chaos presently engulfing Ethiopia, one of our favorite nonprofits, Ethiopia Reads, has provided hope. Founder and church member Jane Kurtz writes, “Heartbroken over the conflict in Ethiopia? Me too. A bit of solace that Ethiopia Reads got a grant to distribute 45,000 of some Ready Set Go Books to families displaced by conflict, children unable to be in school right now. A flashlight beam of hope in gray times.

“[A photographer was onsite when the books were distributed and said seeing that] was so moving because when parents see their children smile, they have hope.”

Out of the chaos of unaffordable housing and a Presbyterian church that had to close, hope comes. A group of community organizers, including Chris Dela Cruz, some Presbytery committees, and a group of Native American social justice advocates, are planning to use land on the site of the former Presbyterian Church of Laurelhurst to build a tiny home village for indigenous Oregonians who will also have a remodeled church building to use as a community space.

Out of the chaos of the pandemic, and unemployment, and food insecurity, comes hope in the form of the Northeast Emergency Food Program community. You’ll hear a little bit more about them in today’s Minute for Mission, but NEFP has been a beacon of hope and I would say a source of joy during so many of the hardships of the pandemic. Through the efforts of paid staff and so many amazing volunteers, NEFP has stepped up and is now providing thirteen times the amount of food they offered before the pandemic.

At the end of today’s lesson, Jesus tells the disciples not to worry because this is not the end, it is a beginning. With the pain of labor, God is birthing something new, and we are the midwives in that birth.

Even now, amid a pandemic that won’t go away, amid real fear of climate change, amid demands for racial justice, amid food insecurity and unaffordable housing, amid wars and rumors of wars, something is being born. We do not yet know what it is, but if it is of God, it will be good.

Out of chaos, hope. And indeed, “as things are getting uncovered,” as Adrienne Maree Brown said, “we must hold each other tight and continue to pull back the veil.” And hold onto hope.

To the glory of God.