25th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 33B)
November 14, 2021
St. Paul Lutheran Church, Proctor, VT
1As [Jesus] came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 2Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
3When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4“Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” 5Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. 6Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. 7When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” – Mark 13:1-8
There’s a song refrain from a few years ago that goes like this:
How long can a world go on under such a subtle God?
How long can a world go on with no new word from God?
See the plod of the flawed individual looking for a nod from God
Trodding the sod of the visible with no new word from God*
I heard these lyrics this week from the presenter at the New England Synod Convocation. He shared them as we talked together about what it means to live as people of faith in our current cultural reality. It is a reality in which organized religion no longer holds prominent place in most of our communities. It is a reality in which scientific and rational explanations are primary over mystical ones. But honestly, it’s a heartfelt cry of every age. It’s the cry of the psalmists who often both acknowledge the presence and faithfulness of God while crying out to be heard, to be held, to be saved by that God they know is there.
Maybe we don’t look for signs from God in quite the same way as our ancestors might have. Most of us don’t look to astronomical events, natural disasters, and patterns in tea leaves to get a sign from the divine. Yet most of us would still probably like to have something a little more concrete, a little more defined as a sign from God.
A sign, perhaps of how to organize church in this time when it’s harder and harder to maintain an institutional church in the ways we did in the last few generations. People ask me all the time for an easy answer, a program, the one thing they can do to grow their church. They want a sign. There isn’t one. The work is hard and even if you engage it the growth may not look numerical.
A sign, perhaps of God’s presence despite the incredible challenges we face. I looked back in my folder and when this text came up 6 years ago, it was followed just a day after terrible terrorist attacks in Paris consumed global attention and concern. But it could come up any Sunday and somewhere in the world people have experienced tragic violence. Wars and rumors of wars, Jesus says. Nation will rise against nation, kingdom against kingdom. Earthquakes. Famine. He might as well have mentioned global pandemics, cancer, and all manner of other terrible pain, illness, injustice, and tragedy. And that is just the beginning, he says.
A sign, perhaps of what I’m supposed to do in this crazy world. Jesus is strangely cryptic at times in giving direction to the disciples and to us. And each of us faces moments of critical decisions in our lives and aren’t always sure how to proceed. What our faith has to say about decisions in our lives is never as simple as opening the Bible and reading a customized life plan. If only Jesus would be a little more obvious, and require a little less interpretation.
Because here’s the thing – Jesus is saying in the gospel reading, and our experience verifies this – the signs in the world are awfully bold. All those terrible disasters, all the voices we hear from the media telling us how and what to think about everything from the shape and look of our bodies to our political affiliation to who is powerful and successful. Those signs? They speak pretty clearly.
And it can seem like God – our God – is sometimes far too subtle. It can feel some days as if we haven’t heard anything new from God. Sure we read the old stories and find new meaning. Sure we come to know the presence of the Spirit working in our lives at times. Sure we find grace here in worship each and every week. But it’s rarely as big and bold as some of the challenges we face.
The disciples seem to be ready and willing to face the challenges Jesus implies are on their way. But they want to know when. When will it be? How can we be prepared? How will we know that it’s the sign we’re supposed to look for an not just one more disaster?
These are people whose history includes enslavement, desert wandering, previous destruction of the their home and temple, occupation by multiple empires. These are people who for the most part are not people of power or privilege. They can handle some more if only they know it’s the sign of what is to come. If they are going to face one more tragedy, one more terrible sign, they want to know it will usher in a change in their fortunes once and for all.
And Jesus says these things – wars, famine, earthquakes and the like – are but the beginning. The beginning of birth pangs, the beginning of something new. And, yet, not the end of the signs that might very well terrify us.
I know you here at St. Paul’s have faced what all of us have in terms of managing through a global pandemic, the challenges we all face in terms of illness and grief over the course of our lives. And I don’t yet know you well enough to know all the details of your challenges. But I do know you have struggled to figure out what it means to be a visible, tangible sign of God’s love here in your little corner of the world. It’s not an easy task. It can seem like our work and our lives are too subtle, too quiet, that we are the flawed individuals from the song, plodding along, looking for a nod from God, trodding the sod of the visible with no new word from God.
Dear friends, it’s true that there is much in the world more powerful than we are, much that is out of our control, much that we might wish was different. But I think exactly what that world needs, what we need. Is a subtle God who reminds us again of the hiddenness of grace.
Jesus speaks the words of today’s readings to the disciples as he is about to go to the cross. It is there that God throw’s in God’s lot with us, with our suffering, our violence, our cruelty, our grief, our distress. It is there that divine love shows its true power, not in conquering, for that would violate the depth of the love God has for all things, but its power in persisting through anything, even death itself. It is there on a cross, in a death as a criminal mostly unnoticed by the powers of the world, that God’s crowning moment is hidden.
So I think exactly what we need is a subtle God who reminds us gently week after week in water, word, bread, and wine, of that never-dying love even unto death. A God who doesn’t always do the newest, latest thing but persists in that same steady word of love for us day after day, year after year, generation after generation. It’s in that steadiness that God brings something new to birth among us. Sometimes, but certainly not always, some sign that wows us, redirects us, re-invigorates our faith. But much more often taking each subtle step with us through long and difficult days.
So let us return again to those lyrics, which I think the singer-songwriter thought to be a sign for despair, but I wonder if they might instead speak to us of a profound God who walks each step with us.
How long can a world go on under such a subtle God?
How long can a world go on with no new word from God?
See the plod of the flawed individual looking for a nod from God
Trodding the sod of the visible with no new word from God
Perhaps God is subtle and says very little walking the way with us, except to whisper every step of the way that we are loved beyond measure now and forever. Amen.
-Pastor Steven Wilco
*Lyrics from “Margaritas at the Mall” by David Berman; thanks to Dr. Andrew Root for sharing them with us at the New England Synod Convocation.
Stewarding the Word 