In the Presence of the LORD
“In the Presence of the LORD”
Proper 28, 33rd Sunday Ordinary Time, 26th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B November 18, 2018
Psalm 16 Mark 13:1-8
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly
On National Public Radio a couple nights ago there was a report in which the interviewer meets a man whose wife is listed as missing as part of the California wildfires. The man’s concerned because his wife is disabled and he’s lost contact with her. Earlier, he’d gone to work on a day when it looked clear, but then the fire kicked up, and his wife became stranded at home, along with the family pets. He tried to drive home but the State Patrol had the road blocked and would not let anyone pass, even people in desperation, like this man. A few days later, the road finally opens and the NPR interviewer rides with him as they make their way through the disorienting ruins of Paradise, California. Coming around a corner, he finally recognizes the entrance to his driveway, and suddenly he realizes his house is totally gone and there’s no way his wife would have survived the fire. Sometime later, he gets a call from the authorities that his wife’s remains have been identified.
NPR warned the listeners that the story may contain content that was sensitive or disturbing to some listeners. I was in my kitchen and noticed that I stopped working on supper and just listened. When he talked in the car with the reporter, at the sight of his driveway, his voice changed tone as he verbally said, “My house is destroyed,” and the realization that his wife was likely dead began to sink in. It’s when his voice changed to grieving that my heart ached; his audible pain resonating with something hardwired inside me, reminding me that we are social creatures, linked at a deep level: sharing a life-bond, the Christ-consciousness, the image of God, maybe we just call it Love. If we’re open, a human connection is affected when others are in pain.
After some deep breaths, I went back to cooking supper, sat down, enjoyed my meal, and by the time I had a scoop of huckleberry ice cream for dessert they were talking about children in Yemen dying of starvation. I felt full as I enjoyed a treat. How ironic that my ice cream mingled with a report on famine as I listened to a doctor describing a toddler suffering in the hospital, who, when he tried to tickle the child’s little foot, was already like a ghost. The report ended, and I washed my hands of it all as I did the dishes.
“Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge. I say to the LORD, ‘You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.’” Psalm 16 reminds us we live in a world that has struggles, violence, greed, disasters of micro and macro scales, tragedies in which people experience life-altering destruction. Prayers for protection, seeking refuge; these are honest responses when the threats seem too close for comfort or when the familiar disappears.
There’s also the recognition that any goodness we have comes from God. “I have no good apart from you,” is both a qualitative statement and a reminder that calls us to have our priorities straight; that what we do in life be founded on loving God and loving our neighbors as ourselves, because anything else doesn’t carry any eternal weight to it.
In Mark’s gospel it seems the disciples have lost their focus, or at least misdirected it as they come out of the Temple and sound like tourists impressed with the architecture. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Jesus then gives them a lesson that makes them nervous, and they want details on how and when. Jesus tells them to beware, but then gives a glimmer of hope when he mentions, “This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.” Birthpangs. Something birthing from pain. New life, coming. Birthpangs. Creative processes in action. Moving forward into possibility.
David Lose, as he comments on this passage, reminds us that this apocalyptic, end of the world type of story has several layers to it. As Jesus talks about not one stone being left upon another, David Lose says,
“Now, it’s possible that this line is simply a narrative foil for Jesus to make a prediction which Mark’s readers will already have experienced, namely the destruction of the Temple and the ensuing chaos, confusion, violence, and loss Mark’s community experienced.” (David Lose, In the Meantime, an online resource, http://www.davidlose.net/2018/11/pentecost-26-b-beyond-spectacle/)
After the death and resurrection of Jesus, but before the Gospels were written decades later, Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans. David Lose reminds us that the readers of Mark are already experiencing the destruction Jesus seems to predict, which
“opens them up to hearing Jesus’ words of warning and comfort addressed directly to them (which they are). Maybe. Possibly. Even probably. […] Nevertheless…” He says, “I still don’t think we’re all that different. Maybe not large stones, but what about large homes, or large cars, or large vacations, or large resumes, or large Christmas presents, or…. Tensions in our communities, polarization across the country, discord in our family, decline in our congregations… and all too often all our culture has to offer is spectacle.” He says, “Indeed, in a 24/7 world of streaming, even rampaging, […] where there are more news/entertainment/information channels than we could have imaged even 10 years ago, and thus where there is a constant and ongoing competition for our attention, we live in, nurture, and are trapped within a culture of the outrageous. […] So maybe not large stones. Maybe for some not even large homes. Maybe it’s a large list of FB Friends, or a large Twitter following. Maybe it’s a large number of news outlets we check relentlessly, […] Maybe it’s… (pause) And that’s the point. It’s always something. Some kind of spectacle that distracts us from what matters, from what’s urgent.”
At the root of spectacle and distraction there seems to be fear. Fear of pain, fear of loss. Fear that what we hear on the radio could someday be stories about our fate that others listen to over dinner. Fear that somehow we are complicit in the death of millions of people as famine rages more intensely than ever in Yemen, even as we enjoy excess. The poorest country in the Middle East faces violence that our country has connections to, as the military-industrial complex taps into our fear while soothing us through profit from the highest bidder.
“Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!”
The disciples, even in their desire to know when apocalypse will come and what sign they can look for; they are looking at externals through the lenses of fear. But Jesus looks squarely at the chaos, the corruption of power, manipulation of religion, state-sponsored violence, intimidation from people in authority; but rather than get swept away from externals, Jesus uses internal imagery: birthpangs. “Do not be alarmed” echoing what one heavenly messenger after another start their sharing with: “Do not be afraid.”
How we deal with fear and suffering is shown by the life of Jesus himself. He is centered on the relational Reality of God’s Grace, Incarnating the Living Christ even amidst the struggles of life. Notice the scene in Mark. They come out of the Temple, the disciples point out the externals that seem so mighty, so sure and certain; the large stones that form the Temple, the very place that holds the presence of God.
But the scene changes right away. After he tells them that not one stone will be left upon another, the very next line shows a change.
“When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately…”
That sentence speaks volumes. Things like, Jesus sitting. Teachers sit. Rabbis who share the Wisdom Tradition with their followers sit as they teach and share important lessons. Also, they’ve moved away from the busy temple mount to a private setting. There is more intimacy here, a closeness with honesty of sharing. As Jesus sits, the very disciples that should know who he is and what he’s about are those questioning, which actually exposes their fear and lack of focus. They are frightened, and they are focusing on external things. That very scene shows us a movement, a break from religion that tries to put God in a box, using external laws and rules and systems that maintain boundaries and lines which reward people who know how to play the game, to Jesus across the valley. Like a deep pause, a space between where he is and where the temple of large stones sits, that valley cradles both mounts on the eve of destruction.
The question facing Mark’s readers is something like, “Where is God’s Presence now?” We thought life was a certain way, but all that is gone. Where is God’s Presence now?
Sitting on the Mount of Olives, privately sharing more than information, Jesus the Teacher uses internal imagery to draw us close in the Presence of the LORD. How do we allow birthpangs to give us hope?
In a daily devotional, Richard Rohr, a Franciscan Priest mentions that we like,
“our cozy image of ourselves as individual and autonomous, as separate from God and everyone and everything else. When this “separate” self is all we think we are, no wonder we are afraid of dying. Because this is all we know and have— […] The false self is […] just inadequate to the big questions of love, death, suffering, God, or infinity. God allows and uses all our diversionary tactics to get us to move toward our full and final destination, which is divine union—and thus wholeness.”
Rohr helps us discover how to claim hope in the midst of deep, inner experience he shares about the True Self. He says,
“The True Self will surely have doubts about the unknown. But the True Self is the Risen Christ in you, and hence, it is not afraid of death. It has already been to hell and back. The Risen Christ in us knows that it will never lose anything real by dying. This is the necessary suffering of walking the full human path. That is what Jesus did and why we are invited to “reproduce the pattern of his death,” each in our own way, so that we can also take our place in the “force field” of God’s universal resurrection (see Philippians 3:10-11 and Acts 3:21).”
The Risen Christ in you. Reproduce the pattern of Jesus’ death. Take our place in the Presence of the LORD. Universal resurrection. These are some intense words. About as intense as that visual of Jesus sitting opposite the Temple answering through image Mark’s readers' question about where the Presence of the LORD truly lives.
Rohr concludes,
“So do not be afraid. Death to false self and the end of human life is simply a return to our Ground of Being, to God, to Love. Life doesn’t truly end; it simply changes form and continues evolving into ever new shapes and beauty.”
(Richard Rohr, Center for Action and Contemplation, https://cac.org/do-not-be-afraid-2018-11-16/, a devotional email from November 16, 2018).
As we seek to live in the Presence of the LORD, may the birthpangs of the Risen Christ within us help us through life in all its fullness. As we live our human existence, may our spiritual experience continue to invite inner awareness and renewal. May God’s love bring transformation to our hearts, minds, and souls, so that from an inner spring of life we may engage in the world to seek justice in restorative ways, to love mercy as our hearts ache to help others who are in pain, and to walk humbly, honored to share in God’s living Presence in all things as we live Incarnation by honoring all. As Jesus helps us cross our own valleys to what God is doing next, may God be glorified, now, even as forever. Amen.