November 18 - Pentecost 25

So last week, I mentioned that the end of the world is coming around – now, it’s December 21.  That kind of sucks – you’ve spent all your money on Christmas, but haven’t had the chance to enjoy your gifts.

There’s a story that my Seminary president used to tell about the Metropolitan Archbishop of New York, whose office was in a tall building. One day, a homeless man wandered into the reception area and asked to speak to the Archbishop.  When the administrator asked the man who he was, the man replied, “I’m Jesus Christ”.  In fact, the man was quite insistent that he was, in fact, Jesus.  So, the administrator buzzed up to the Archbishop’s office.  When the Archbishop answered, the admin said, “there’s a man here who wants to see you”.  “Who is it?” the Archbishop asked.  “He says he’s Jesus,” replied the admin, a little sheepishly.

Without missing a beat, the Archbishop replied, “quick – look busy!”

The moral of the story is, I advise you all to attend the midweek Advent services this year.  You never know – it might help…

A few people have asked me how the date of the end of the world is determined.  The answer is: I don’t know.  Usually, as in the case of Harold Camping and others like him, people claim access or understanding of knowledge ‘hidden’ in the bible, in certain passages of scripture, or prophecies that they’ve been able to understand.  In other cases – like this December 21 thing – it comes from the end of the Mayan calendar.  The Mayans, as you may know, where a civilization in the Yucatan whose culture collapsed because of climate change before their religious types could figure out if they were right about the end of the world.

Speaking of which, the end of our year is next Sunday – Christ the King.  Are we speaking of the end of the world?  No.  Well, today, we actually are.  Which, is not really one of my favourite topics; I tend to think that many Christians focus so much on the end of the world so they don’t have to currently live in this one.   That’s a ‘Lutheran’ thing – theologically, we trust that God can handle this whole ‘end of time’ stuff, and that when it’s necessary, he’ll let us know.  As Lutherans, we trust that Christ has accomplished the work of our salvation, so until his return our task is life, together.  We’re ‘expectant’ Christians: we expect Jesus to return; we trust it’s going to happen, and we wait.  We don’t keep watching the skies; we don’t keep charts, graphs, or diagrams.

So, it turns out, that in today’s gospel Jesus is talking about the end of the world, and he’s actually kind of creeping the disciples out. They walk through the forecourt of the Temple, and the disciples are totally amazed at the size of the architecture.  “What large stones, and what large buildings!” and Jesus looks at them, as proclaims that it will all be brought down.

Imagine that.  Imagine me taking the congregation to the middle of downtown Edmonton, and proclaiming, “not a single one of these building will be left standing!”  You’d think I was a raving nutter.  Turns out, the disciples want to hear a little more from Jesus.  Later, four of them approach him, and ask what the signs will be that will bring about the destruction of the Temple.  And you have his answer: many false prophets, wars and rumours of wars, nation rises against nation, kingdom against kingdom, earthquakes, and famines.  I can see you thinking.  You’re thinking about all the news recently, about all these things.

Beloved, so were the disciples.  They didn’t have the media access that we do nowadays, but they still had ears.  And Jesus is speaking directly to their minds.  They’re thinking, but teacher, those things are happening NOW!  It’s truly terrifying, because Jesus knows what he’s talking about.  He’s not a random voice on a radio program.  This is the man who heals the sick, and raises the dead.  But then, Jesus adds one last thing: “this is but the beginning of the birth pangs”

I might point out: Jesus is not speaking to a group of well-enlightened, medically literate, educated men.  He’s talking to a group of superstitious peasants, who, by and large, believe that the simple fact that women menstruate means they’re being punished for something.  Birth, for them, is not a happy occasion: it’s weird, loud, and women obviously make too much fuss about it.  So, I’m pretty sure that when Jesus began talking about ‘birth pangs,’ the panic level of the disciples went up, not down – because it means that they might have to experience this awkward and scary event, too.

But you know, for a culture that is full of societal taboos and superstitions regarding childbirth and children, it turns out that God works a lot through those two events – look at the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel.  Hannah is the second wife of Elkanah, who is a good and faithful person; but she is barren (as Scripture describes it, the Lord had closed her womb, which is not a torment, but usually a foreshadowing that something bigger is intended for the person).  Hannah promises that if she can conceive and bear a child, then that child would become a Nazirite; one dedicated to the Temple from the day of his birth. Basically, if she has a child, she will give him to God’s service.  She goes to the Temple and prays, and the prophet Eli is impressed by her commitment, and bids her to go in peace.

The writer of 1 Samuel records that “…in due time, Hannah conceived, and bore a son”  - God’s faithfulness to her.  Taken as a single story, this little narrative becomes pretty standard Sunday-school fare: you want something, pray, be good, and God will give it to you.  But that’s not what this story is about, all in all – it’s the beginning of a narrative that stretches from this baby Samuel – who became a great prophet, who anointed the first king of Israel, who proclaimed the salvation of a great nation by the branch of Jesse’s tree – all the way to Jesus, sitting on the Mount of Olives, talking about beginnings.

Way back when the Lutheran theological tradition began to be formed, it came out of a time of great societal and cultural upheaval.  Martin Luther was not the only reformer; nor strictly speaking, was he the first.  Others rose up who proclaimed the end of the world; in the 16^th century doomsday cults drew as many followers as they do now.  People waited with breathless anticipation to watch the world burn and the undeserving be thrown to eternal punishment.  What Luther did provide was a sober second thought: yes, Christ would return.  Yes, the world would end.  But we are still called to form the church in the world.

It can be tempting to withdraw when we think things aren’t going well – many people do; in fact, there are people who are selling their houses, stockpiling food and weapons, for what they are certain will be the end of civilization, if not the end of the entire world. 

Yet that’s not what we are called to do.  As the writer of Hebrews said, let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful…and let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds…encouraging one another, as all the more you see the Day approaching.

Many of you have been there: you’ve been the expectant parents, grandparents, aunts, or uncles.  You’ve been anxious and excited at the same time.  Terrified, and topful of joy at the promise of new life before you. 

You’re expectant Lutherans, too.  Yes, the world looks like it darkens around us.  Yes, we hear reports from all around us that chaos is everywhere and the world is groaning like it is in labour.  Yet, look around our own community: here, you see signs of God’s faithful promise.  Here, you meet together to encourage and support, love and work, together because you hope that God is bringing forth something greater than us all.

The world is turning; it is turning into the creation that God made it to be; it is turning into the world that Christ redeemed as his own; it is turning into the great and holy place that God’s Spirit brings to birth – just as God is turning you to be his own people in this place; his own children.  God has waited for you, beloved of God: and you wait to see that your hope in God will be fulfilled, in turn.

Amen.