Mark 13:24-37
Many Americans right now believe we are living in a perilous and uncertain time. Over the past few weeks newspaper headlines have trumpeted predictions of an approaching financial crisis of historic proportions – a potential catastrophe comparable to the Great Depression of the 1930s. As if such grim economic news were not bad enough, Americans also remain concerned about how we are viewed as a nation in other parts of the world, especially in areas where Islam is a dominant religious faith. (The recent terror attacks in India have surely heightened these fears.) And despite the optimism that has been felt in some circles by the results of the recent presidential election, pundits of all political stripes recognize that the new administration will have to deal with a host of unusually difficult economic, social, and military challenges.
Against this backdrop of an anxious and fairly cheerless time the church today begins its observance of the Advent season. Over the next four weeks we will prepare ourselves, as we do every year, to welcome and celebrate the arrival of the Savior of this sorry, fallen world in which we live. Often at this time of year the church finds itself working against the grain of the secular culture. As the church enters the somber season of Advent and waits with quiet expectation for the Messiah, the culture around us grows ever more frantic, shallow, and obsessed with trivial things. This year, however, the downbeat cultural mood actually feels a bit more congruent than usual with the church’s Advent message. Right now, many of us are looking for relief and seeking reasons to feel hopeful.
Despite the magnitude of the troubles with which the world is currently dealing, this morning’s lesson from the Gospel according to Mark speaks of a crisis far more dire than any of us are ever likely to have to face. Based on the subject matter it covers, St. Mark’s Gospel is generally thought to have been written sometime within the ten-year period between 65 and 75 A.D. From the perspective of the Jewish people the most important events that took place during this period were the ill-advised revolt against the Roman occupation of Judea, the subsequent destruction of the Temple, and the dispersal of the Jews from Jerusalem – a calamity of immense proportions. The opening verses of the thirteenth chapter of St. Mark’s Gospel – the chapter from which today’s lesson is taken – in fact contain Jesus’ prediction both of the destruction of the Temple and of the terrors that will overtake the people of Judea, helpless before the onslaught of the forces of imperial Rome. According to Jesus’ prediction of the bloody events that occurred about forty years after his death, there would be more tribulation and suffering during that time than at any other period in the history of the world.
As if St. Mark’s presentation of the natural horrors of war were not sufficient to trouble his readers, his narrative continues – and today’s Gospel lesson begins – with Jesus’ description of the great cataclysm that will occur on a cosmic scale “after that tribulation” (13:24). In this passage we have just heard Jesus warns his disciples to regard the destruction of the Temple not as the culmination of a time of immense upheaval but simply as the prelude to an even more momentous series of events. After one phase of suffering has concluded, a new, more terror-filled phase will begin: the sun and moon will cease to shine; the stars will fall from the heavens; the “Son of Man” will appear, “coming in clouds with great power and glory” (13:26); and God’s elect throughout the earth will be gathered together by angels to welcome the arrival of their Messiah. The fact that our Lord refuses to give a definite date for the Messiah’s appearance serves to heighten the apprehension and anxious excitement his disciples are meant to feel. Devoid of an exact timetable for the commencement of these apocalyptic events, the lesson concludes with a starkly direct admonition: “Watch” (13:37). Jesus’ disciples must not become lazy or complacent, we are told, but they must wait expectantly for God to bring our world to its appointed end.
When I was a teenager in the early 1960s, one of my favorite recordings was the Kingston Trio’s decidedly upbeat rendition of the classic African American spiritual, “My Lord, what a morning! ... When the stars begin to fall” – a song whose lyrics are inspired by the vision described in today’s Gospel reading. I think this folk song appealed to me because its religious subject matter is totally unlike anything I ever heard in the staid worship of the Episcopal parish where I grew up, and the apocalyptic sentiments it expresses were utterly foreign to the rational, cultured preaching and teaching I ordinarily heard as a child. Like many spirituals “My Lord, what a morning” is a protest song. Using the words of Scripture, this song proclaims that the world as we know it is by no means equivalent to the world as God desires it to be. God has the power, we’re told, to turn everything upside down both in the heavens and on earth.
But what are we as Anglicans to make of this Gospel reading? Anglicans generally have not stressed a literal interpretation of this passage, especially since its millenarian ideas implicitly threaten the stable world order in which Anglicanism has usually flourished. Nevertheless, we cannot – and should not – ignore this message, for it not only emboldened the persecuted and beleaguered Christian communities of ancient times, but it also has repeatedly inspired Christians engulfed by dangers and trapped in desperate circumstances over the course of many centuries.
This lesson teaches us that, although we as mortal beings are by necessity immersed in this world and in its history, what we experience in this life – its sorrows as well as its joys – does not represent the totality of existence. Even though God acts within human history, the final resolution of the challenges and evils with which human beings have to deal lies outside of ordinary time. Whatever crisis or troubles Christian believers may be facing, whether the economic worries of the present day or the unimaginable terrors of war in first-century Judea, the purposes of God will ultimately be realized at a future moment with the coming of the Messiah and the establishment of His kingdom. This is our hope, and this is God’s promise to us.
The Savior is coming, we believe, and during Advent we prepare ourselves to welcome the One who is sent by God to redeem our world. While we may not choose to imagine the Savior’s arrival literally in the fashion described in today’s Gospel reading, the hope expressed in the Gospel is fundamental to the Christian faith and serves as an austere warning to us always to be ready for the Messiah to appear.
