While You Were Sleeping
Mark 13: 24-37 (NIV)
“But in those days, following that distress, “ ‘the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’ “At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch. “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’ ”
Happy New Year!
Like I explained last week, this first Sunday in Advent marks the beginning of a New Year in our liturgical calendar. Now, according to the lectionary cycle, it's year B, and most of this year's Gospel stories are going to come from Mark.
And, just as we start hearing stories from Mark, we're not wasting any time getting right to the heart of this Gospel: Mark's writings about what the world will be like immediately before and right at the moment when Jesus comes back. And if you've been following our lectionary and my sermons the last few weeks, you might hear this morning's Gospel reading and be tempted to think, okay, another teaching from Jesus about his second coming. This is what we've been talking about for the last three weeks.
But not so fast. This is different.
Just let these words you just heard from Mark soak in. You'll never hear Matthew's Gospel get this hardcore.
The last year we've heard most of our Gospel stories from Matthew. And even though Matthew wrote real stories based on eyewitness testimony that had been repeated over the generations by an oral tradition, it's also true that he authored his Gospel--he copied these stories his way, emphasizing what he thought was important, and painting a certain picture of Jesus' world. He wrote about Jesus in a way that would sound like real, relevant, Good News to his Jewish audience, so he emphasized on Jesus' teaching and interpreting qualities, and told a story about a man who followed right along in Moses' footsteps.
Mark is somewhat different. Mark and Matthew tell a lot of the same stories about Jesus, but of all the 4 Gospels in the Bible Mark is the shortest. Matthew's gotten preferential treatment over these generations for telling more stories, longer stories, and gentler stories about Jesus than our friend Mark, and thus Matthew shows up first in our New Testament even though we're pretty sure Mark was written first--then Matthew and Luke about ten years later, and then lastly John.
And when you're reading Mark, you'll feel this sense of urgency throughout. Biblical scholars generally agree on what that urgency must be about. It's about what, after decades of people contentedly telling each other these stories about Jesus through an oral tradition, would drive someone to sit down and copy all of these stories to paper, even though most people in his day couldn't read: tragedy.
In the year 70 AD Rome conquered Jerusalem, sacked the city, and destroyed the Temple, the sacred dwelling place of God that was the second already of its kind because King Nebuchadnezzar ordered his army to destroy the first in 587 BC, when Babylon conquered Jerusalem.
The Jewish people were deeply traumatized, and infuriated. They were taught always to expect a great Messiah to come and save them, to overthrow their enemy, and to bring all their people back home to Jerusalem. And Jesus said he was going to come back, that there would be trials and tribulation and suffering, and then he would come back. What time could the Son of God pick to return and save his righteous people other than this time?
Mark belonged to this community of Jews who believed, now is the time. The world is ending, and Jesus is coming again. So in haste, he sat down and wrote an account of the Good News of Jesus as fast as he could. And if his words sound kind of intense, it's because they were written during this crisis.
Yet, as intense and hard core as Mark's words could sound, particularly the words of this morning's Gospel reading, they really are a Gospel--they really are Good News. Mark's loving message to his community was yes, things are terrible now, but don't distress, Jesus is coming, and he's going to take care of us.
Here in the United States we don't presently live in a community plagued by a domestic war, and yet, we can relate to Mark's Good News: stay awake and watch, Jesus is coming.
When we turn on our TVs and see footage of the riots in Ferguson, MO following the St. Louis County grand jury's decision not to indict Darren Wilson: stay awake and watch, Jesus is coming.
When we continue to see our country involved in warfare in Iraq and Afghanistan: stay awake and watch, Jesus is coming.
When Black Friday rolls around, and we see crazed retail shoppers trample each other for the last big screen TV: stay awake and watch, Jesus is coming.
When we have our own personal struggles of illness, sadness, anger, and despair: stay awake and watch, Jesus is coming.
When Mark sat down in 70 AD and frantically scribbled down the stories of Jesus he thought, never have we needed Jesus more than now.
Two thousand years later, in a world that, in some ways, is just as broken as Mark's, we know, never have we needed Jesus more than now.
When Jesus is coming back, no one knows. But as we begin this season of Advent, this season of patiently waiting for a Savior's birth, we celebrate that the spirit of our Christ is always being born anew within us, and if we watch and wait, we will experience Jesus among and within us again, in a world that needs him.
Two thousand years ago, a group of shepherds got to be the very first to witness the miracle of Jesus, dwelling among us. Few others noticed, because it was night, and the town was asleep.
Mark tells us, watch. Stay awake, and watch.
It can be easy to become so distracted by the noise of this world, by the things we're used to seeing, hearing, and doing, and by our own assumptions about the way things ought to be that we don't even notice the subtle moment when Jesus inconspicuously is born in our hearts and comes to lead us to God.
It's easy to not notice Christ among us.
This season of Advent we celebrate Emmanuel: God with is.
The voice of reason and truth. The teacher. The helper in the chaos. That part of ourselves that gives us the strength and courage to keep going and do even what little we can to set the world right. It can be so subtle that you can blink and miss it.
Be aware. Be aware for that grace, that moment when Jesus is born in our hearts and in our world, and once again, even when things feel chaotic and bleak, there's hope.
This Advent, may we be awake when the star shows up in the sky and the Savior is born.
Amen.
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