Sermon, Sunday 15 November: 'Wu're doomed'

This morning's sermon, based on the following readings:
Psalm 16
Hebrews 10:11-14, 19-25
and Mark 13:1-8

At the beginning of worship this morning, we lit a candle of peace, having a short time of silence as we remembered all those affected by the attacks in Baghdad last week, and Beirut and Paris this week.

SERMON: ‘Wu're doomed.’
Let us pray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of 
all our hearts be acceptable to you, O God, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen

‘It’s the end of the world as we know it…’
it’s the title of a song by the band R.E.M.
And, given our readings this morning,
you couldn’t help but think that the end is nigh -
that the ‘day’ is approaching.
And for those of you who remember ‘Dad’s Army’,
Private Fraser comes to mind, with his immortal words:
‘Doomed. Wu’re doomed, I tell you.’
Right about now, I’m guessing that you’re beginning to think
this is not going to be a very cheerful sermon, aren’t you? 
Fasten your seat-belts, this may be a bumpy ride...

Our gospel passage this morning, Mark chapter 13, talks of end times.
Scholars refer to this passage as ‘the little apocalypse’,
and the word apocalypse means ‘to reveal’ or to ‘unveil’.
Jesus is revealing, or unveiling, to the disciples
what’s going to happen in the future, and it’s not
sounding that great to their ears.

This bible passage is set in the time just after Jesus’
triumphal entry into Jerusalem:
after he’s driven all of the moneylenders from the temple,
and it occurs just before the plots to betray and kill Jesus are put into action.
The passage takes place in two settings:
Just outside of the temple, and then later,
on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the temple.
And I really like the sense of wide-eyed wonder and awe
that’s shown by one of the disciples who is obviously seeing
the temple for the very first time.
He’s a wee laddie from a wee village and the temple is obviously
the biggest building he’s ever seen - a building so huge as to almost
be beyond his comprehension. 
He’s a bit gob-smacked by it, basically,
and he says as much to the teacher, to Jesus:
‘Look! What massive stones!
What magnificent buildings!’
For him, it’s truly a ‘wow’ moment to be there in Jerusalem
to see this amazing place.
And then, he hears something even more amazing:
Jesus says to him:
'Yep, and all of it will be thrown down.'
I suspect that this particular disciple’s eyes grow even wider by this comment -
The temple...destroyed?
The temple that had been standing for near on 500 years,
and which had recently undergone a massive extension
in the reign of Herod the Great?
Surely, this was not possible...?
But Jesus is saying that, indeed, it is.

Straight after this the gospel writer moves us
across to the Mount of Olives. 
Jesus is sitting looking at the temple… and talking. 
But this is not a public discussion -
Jesus isn’t preaching to multitudes here:
he’s talking with his friends, those who are the closest to him;
those who are possibly the most serious about following him;
those who know him to be a truth-speaker and so,
those who believe that what he says is true
even if it is something as astonishing as the
prediction of the great temple’s destruction.
Their question to Jesus reveals this:
they know he’s not joking –
that he’s not just saying what he’s been saying
about the temple for shock value.
And so they ask:
‘when will this be?
How will we know?'

Imagine them, sitting there listening to all of what
Jesus is saying.
How must they feel hearing the answer that Jesus gives?
The words that Jesus says?
Everything they’ve ever known is about to change.
The temple will fall;
their world will be turned upside-down:
their very lives will be in danger.

They know his every word is true.
They know, that this will happen.
His words are graphic, clear.
But rather than trying to fill his friends with fear,
he’s trying to reassure them:
there’s comfort to be found in the words.
Comfort?
But, it’s the end of the world as we know it.
The end is nigh.
The ‘Day’ is approaching...
wu’re doomed:
And yet, there’s ‘comfort’??
Comfort even in the midst of prophecies
of persecution and distress?
Comfort in predictions of suffering…?
No. 
There’s comfort in the truth that:
this is not all that there is.

If these words of Jesus are true,
these words of destruction:
words of wars and rumours of wars,
words of unimaginable upheaval -
if these words are true, then so are the words that say:
‘Do not be alarmed.
Do not be afraid.
And if we were to read further on
in the gospel passage we realise why:
we’d hear words that promise his return.

Jesus knew that suffering would come to him.
He knew that suffering would come to Jerusalem.
He knew that suffering would come to his friends.
He knew that suffering would continue in the world -
and he also knew that some day, suffering would come to an end.
He says to his friends:
'do not be troubled.
Don’t be afraid.'
But we also need to remember that
when Jesus says to his followers
‘don’t be alarmed’
that it isn’t based on promises that they –
or for that matter, that we –
will somehow be exempt from sorrrow,
that suffering will miss our houses.
It’s not based on assurances that wars will take place
far away  from our homeland,
or that terrorism will not strike us or our neighbourhoods.
And, it’s not based on pledges of revenge or retaliation
upon those who hurt us:
The words of comfort which Jesus gives
in the 13th chapter of Mark are founded on the truth that:
we have not been abandoned.
The words of comfort that Jesus gives
in the midst of a message about
destruction and change and turmoil are:
that he will return.

The strange comfort embedded in Mark chapter 13
is that when the followers of Jesus Christ –
when we as followers of Jesus Christ -
hear wars and rumours of wars,
we hear them less as cause for fear,
and more as a reminder that the words of Jesus are true.
When nation rises against nation,
when there are earthquakes and famines,
we are to remember this scene at the Temple and his words.
We’re to remember that:
upheaval and change are the only constant
and that they show us that although we live in the now,
we wait in hope for the not yet to come.

This hope can be seen shining through our passage
from the letter to the Hebrews:
Although things can appear to be awful -
the rise of foodbanks,
global economic meltdown,
wars, violence, terrorism -
in hope, we have confidence to approach God,
because He who has promised is faithful.

Back to Mark:
Earlier, I referred to the text in the gospel as ‘apocalyptic’.
While a normal reaction to reading apocalyptic literature
might be one of fear, the actual purpose is quite the opposite:
it's to instil hope.
It's to remind us that God's in charge.
The Mark passage talks of 'birthpangs' –
it's not the end...
it's a new beginning. 
And the writer to the Hebrews talks of 'a new and living way. 
These passages are hope-filled passages, not fear-filled passages.
They're about transformation and restoration.
They’re about reconciliation, and the healing of old hurts.
From the depths of the deepest, darkest places,
they blaze out the message that the light still shines,
the light can, and will, overcome,
that the darkness will not, can never win:
for if God is for us, who can be against us?

Teamed up with the psalm for the day, Psalm 16,
we get a picture of who we have faith in:
believing in a God who listens, a God who responds.
We cry for protection, and God is our refuge;
we seek wisdom and God gives good counsel;
we feel abandoned or afraid and we’re reminded that God
is constantly at our side and never lets us go;
we despair, and God teaches us to rejoice
and makes our hearts glad;
we are lost, or not quite sure of the way,
and God shows us the path of life.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
The end is nigh.
The ‘Day’ is approaching.
But ...
we’re not to just stand warmed by the knowledge of our comfort…
We’re not just to stand idly by when wars are declared
and shrug our shoulders and go back to the crossword puzzle…
Just because Jesus says that such things are going to happen in the world
doesn’t mean that we, as his followers, do nothing…
doesn’t mean we don’t do all within our power to help
alleviate suffering and promote peace –
and there’s plenty in the rest of the gospels
and the Old Testament to teach us that.

A well-beloved Presbyterian pastor in the United States,
Fred Rogers, told a story from his childhood - he said:
"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, 
my mother would say to me,
"Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."
To this day, especially in times of "disaster,"
I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted 
by realizing that there are still so many helpers – 
so many caring people in this world."
As people sought safety in Paris, so the helpers came -
and social media came into its own through the twitter hashtag:
#PorteOuverte: Parisians opening their doors, their homes,
to help those needing shelter from the attackers.

We, who love God, and believe in his unfailing faithfulness,
witness to God’s love by being the helpers -
the ones who care for this world and all who live within it.
When wars and rumours of wars circle the planet;
when those who embrace the way of terror, violence and fear,
seek to destroy other human beings,
we are the helpers:
we are there in the midst of the horror,
we are the ones who protest for peace,
we are the ones who help relieve suffering:
we are the ones who help rebuild -
for we carry that most precious of gifts to the world:
the light that shines in the darkness.

At this time, in this place,
here in a world thrown into confusion, chaos, and despair,
we can wait for the fulfilment of all things without worry;
We wait without fear;
we wait in hope;
we wait with our hands dirty from our work as helpers in this world.
We wait with our hearts full of compassion for those who suffer;
we wait alongside those whose bodies are riddled with disease,
or with bullets;
we wait with those who join us in longing
for the redemption of all creation:
for the ending and the beginning.
We wait, but not idly:
we work in hopefulness, not hopelessness.

Change will come - that's always been a given in a finite universe.
But that change is in the hands of the One who holds all things
and who is faithful;
who guards us and guides us,
and who loves us beyond our wildest imaginings.
In change, there’s also a comfort –
comfort in the words ‘fear not, little flock’
The end is just the beginning,
The 'Day' is approaching.
But it’s a new dawn,
it’s a new day,
it’s a new life:
and trusting in the one who is faithful,
we can sing in the midst of change.
In the rest of the line from the R.E.M song:
'It's the end of the world as we know it,
...and I feel fine'.

Let’s pray:
All-loving God,
when the walls of the Temple fell,
you opened the way to your presence,
through the offering of Jesus' blood.
Help us to approach you with a true heart,
in full assurance of faith,
and, unwavering, hold fast to hope;
that in times of change,
And in times of trouble we may
encourage one another,
and stir ourselves to your service,
in your name we pray, Amen.