"Christ Present"
Sermon of
The Rev. Dr. David A. Killian, Rector
All Saints Parish
Brookline, Massachusetts
Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost
November 19, 2006
Text: Mark 13:14-23
I
What was your thought when you heard the first half of the first sentence of today's Gospel? The part where Jesus said, "But when you see the desolating sacrilege set up where it ought not to be (let the reader understand). . . ." Did you understand what the Gospel was talking about? I must say, I needed to go back to my Biblical Commentary to find out about this myself.
The "desolating sacrilege" or "awful horror" dates back to 200 years before Christ to the revolt of the people of Israel led by the Maccabees when they were outraged that King Antiochus IV had put a statue of the Greek God Zeus in the Temple. That was the desolating sacrilege. When the Maccabees secured virtual independence for Judea, the statue was removed and the cleansing and rededication of the Temple established the feast of Hanukkah, which is still observed.
Between the time of Jesus' ministry and the writing of Mark's Gospel, the Emperor Caligula proposed a second defilement by a statue of himself to be placed in the Temple. Although his assassination prevented this action, some scholars claimed that the words "desolating sacrilege" were derived from Jewish writings in response to Caligula's plans. In view of the earlier experience with Antiochus IV, such an event, in the eyes of the people would have triggered a radical intervention of God to end the world.
In the time of Jesus, people thought that the end of the world would have to come soon -- because they did not see any other way to end wickedness on earth. For them it was a great comfort to believe that the Messiah would rescue them from their distress. Those who looked for an end to human history are usually called apocalyptists, from the word apocalypse. Apocalyptic language describes the end of the world in dramatic imagery, such as we see in today's reading from Daniel, when there will be a "time of anguish" followed by a great rescue by the archangel Michael.
How are we to read these apocalyptic writings today? What if we are not comforted by this fantastic imagery? How are these writings to be understood? We can say first that apocalyptic writings should be read as exhortation not prediction. Today's Gospel is not a prediction of what is going to happen to our planet in the next few months, years, decades or even centuries. This not a book of science describing how our 15 billion year universe is going to end. Rather, today's Gospel passage and other apocalyptic writings can best be read as an exhortation to keep hope alive in the face of discouraging situations.
II
In other words, we can move past the language of "desolating sacrilege" and "end of the world" to find a message that gives us hope in our time. We can find other words in the Scriptures that may speak more directly to us today.
It's like the story of the local priest and minister who were fishing on the side of the road after a storm. They thoughtfully made a sign saying, "The end is near! Turn yourself around now before it is too late!" and they showed it to each passing car. One driver who didn't appreciate the sign shouted at them, "Leave me alone, you religious nuts!" He drove by and all of a sudden they heard a big splash. They looked at each other, and the priest said to the minister, "You think maybe instead we should have just said, 'Bridge Out'?"
III
If apocalyptic imagery does not engender hope the way that these writings inspired people in earlier centuries, what might speak to us today? I suggest that we look to the promise that Jesus gave to his disciples, "Whenever two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in your midst." This is the image that has given great hope to me this fall as I received news in the last three weeks of the deaths of five people who were important to me. One was Bruce, a classmate from high school. One was my sister's mother-in-law that I had occasion to see on visits to my home state of Wisconsin. One was a seminary classmate with whom I was ordained 39 years ago. Another was my uncle Tony, my mother's youngest brother that I had spent a lot of time with when I was a child. And the last was my next door neighbor, Ray Dutton, the father of Candy Petersen, who died at the remarkable age of 101.
I was not able to go all of their funerals, but I did manage to go to four of them. I went because when I received a call notifying me of the death I thought it would be a way of expressing love and support for the family in their time of grieving. And yes, in every instance, people were grateful that I had taken the time to be with them and that my presence and, of course, the presence of other friends and family members, were a comfort to them. But, more than anything I gave them, I derived hope by being with these grieving families and seeing their faith and courage.
At each of these funerals, people were able to communicate something of the living spirit and legacy of the person who had died. At my friend Bruce's funeral, his work in the Equal Opportunity Division of the Department of Justice was highlighted and several African-American people who had benefited from his advocacy were present to speak their gratitude to his widow and children. At the reception following Ray Dutton's funeral, family members spoke of the gentle way that Ray, a carpenter, taught them how to use their hands to build useful things and how his hopeful, "can-do" spirit rubbed off on others. After each of these deaths, as sad and upsetting as they were, family and friends shared stories - which sometimes displayed peccadilloes, quirky habits, and even unpleasant traits - but which presented a picture of a person who had lived a life of meaning and purpose. And in sharing those stories we gave each other hope and we drew courage to face our own mortality.
And so this morning, rather than apocalyptic imagery of a conquering Messiah at the end of the world, I prefer to dwell on the image of the risen Christ present whenever two or three are gathered. It is the same Christ who imparts hope, but this Christ in our midst seems more accessible and reassuring. God is with us through any desolating sacrilege, awful horror, or death of a loved one. God is healing and comforting us through sharing memories of loved ones and drawing lessons from their lives. God is present to give us hope.
Amen.