Year B, Pentecost 26 Mark 13:1-8
Do
you remember at the beginning of COVID, when every time you turned on the news
or checked your newsfeed, it was a string of stories about how horrible things
were looking? If I were to sum up those stories it would be, “be alarmed, be
very alarmed.” I remember the Daily Show
started a segment called, “Is this how we die?”
It was funny…until people started dying. It feels a bit like that now, every time I
check the news, there are some new dire threats. This is the end of democracy. This is the end of freedom. This is the end
of women’s rights. Because of the magic of algorithms, someone else is looking
at their news and seeing a different set of stories: the stock market is sky
rocketing, it’s the end of politics as usual, it’s a new golden age in
America. Either way, the news has been
attention grabbing. Some people are
feeling great. Some are neutral and some are alarmed. Pretty much everything
about the pandemic was horrible, but the one thing that was kind of refreshing
was that the majority of people agreed that COVID was bad. It was unifying in a
weird way.
I
will confess that in general, I am prone to being alarmed by any drastic
changes, sometimes even small changes. Thus, I pay attention whenever I see
something in scripture telling me not to be alarmed. The reading we had from the Gospel of Mark is
sometimes referred to as the “little apocalypse.” In it Jesus says, “When you hear of wars and
rumors of wars, do not be alarmed…” Then it goes on to say: “nation will rise
against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in
various places; there will be famines.”
Now, I have already admitted that I am prone to being alarmed, but is it
just me, or are those verses extra alarming?
Someone brought this up at our Wednesday Eucharist—how
interesting it was that Jesus would tell us not to be alarmed about war. I thought, well, people said that kind of
thing a lot in scripture. One of the
most common pieces of advice in scripture is: Do not be afraid. It’s usually the first thing that an angel
says when he brings a message to a human.
Jesus is often telling people in his midst not to be afraid, especially
after a miracle or a healing. It makes sense that in the presence of holiness
one would expect the words: Be not afraid. It’s helpful advice, when you are in
the presence of something awe inspiring and something that is so unexpected
that it’s frightening.
I assumed that the Greek word translated to alarm and
the Greek word translated to afraid were the same word. They are not.
The word translated to alarm only appears in two other places in the New
Testament. One is the version of this same story that Matthew tells. Often the
Gospels tell the same story is slightly different ways. The other instance is in
2nd Thessalonians. The Greek
word translated to alarm can also mean troubled or disturbed. In each of these three readings, the advice
to “not be alarmed” comes in response to what is referred to as the 2nd
coming or the apocalypse.
What is interesting is that Jesus wasn’t even talking
about the end of the world (which is what many of us think of when we hear
warnings like this). Jesus was talking about
the events that would lead up to the end of the world. The funny thing is that
every time I preach on an apocalyptic text, I come up with many examples of how
what is going on in our country or our world feels kind of apocalyptic. Yet, not even once since I have been
preaching, has the world ended. I am
beginning to think that maybe these events that Jesus mentions are not pointing
to the end of the world. They are just life.
 |
Last Sunday, I
got out of my car and the weather was lovely.
Thirty minutes later I walked outside, and it was smoky. You could not
even see the sun. Someone told me it was
from the fires in New Jersey. I thought
since, when were there fires in New Jersey?
This is clearly a sign of the world ending. Apparently when you preach these texts too
much, that is where your mind goes.
Guess what, we are still here. The world has not ended and Jesus is
telling us all: “Do not be alarmed.”
Does that mean we become complacent? Does that mean
that the fire fighters shouldn’t put the fires out and we can feel free to use
fireworks in the middle of a dry forest?
No. It means that we don’t let
the fears that come out of these events paralyze us. The problem with fear is that it narrows our
vision. All we see is the worst case
scenario. Then the only people who we
talk to are other people who are also alarmed…very alarmed. Suddenly anyone who isn’t alarmed is blind
and foolish and we definitely don’t want to be associating with those
people.
As much as I appreciate a little company in my misery,
I do worry about how we handle our little apocalypses. The literal definition of apocalypse is
revelation or unveiling. Many think this
election revealed something about our country.
Maybe it did. I wonder if what we
should also examine is our reactions to these apocalyptic events and what those
reactions reveal. I don’t know what any
of this reveals. Perhaps time will tell. What I know is that refusing to engage with
people who think differently will accomplish nothing. I am not telling you to take this moment to
reach out to your family and friends who voted differently. We might not be
ready for that. My brother reached out to me and offered to talk and I said,
“Thank you for the offer, but I am not ready.”
He responded that he loved me. I responded that I loved him too even
though he was wrong. (just kidding, I just said I loved him too.) Thus I
understand how hard this advice is, but I think it is what Jesus would want.
This week President Biden invited the president elect
to the White House. It appeared
extremely awkward. There were some who
criticized Biden for maintaining this tradition. They said it showed weakness. I think it
showed decency and strength. Would he have done that if that was not the
tradition? I don’t know. That is the beauty of traditions. They hold us
accountable. They give us guardrails on
our life. Sometimes when we get too
attached to tradition, those traditions can make us rigid and stubborn. But sometimes, perhaps many times, traditions
help connect us with our ancestors and people today.
So many parts of our liturgy are about connecting to
God and one another. I was raised Catholic and the first time I visited an
Episcopal Church, I found the tradition of kneeling at the rail very
uncomfortable and awkward. Now, I see it
as an important reminder of what it is to be a community. It doesn’t matter how
you vote, what your job is, your sexuality, your race…none of that matters in
that moment. All that matters in that
moment is that we are together, gathered around the altar yearning for a piece
of God’s presence. Yearning for
communion.
**The article about the “doomsday fish” popped up on my newsfeed after preaching this sermon.