Hebrews 10:11-25
Mark 13:1-8
“The Beginning of the Birth Pangs”
This week I read through a collection of devotionals on racism. It was an ecumenical resource being put together by the Commission on Justice and Peace of the Canadian Council of Churches, and it’s currently in the final stages of editing and lay-out. The reason I got to read it early is because the folks putting it together asked me to write a foreword for it.
The authors are an amazingly diverse collection of church folk, with the vast majority being Black, Indigenous, or People of Colour from various denominations of the Christian Church in Canada, including two Presbyterian ministers.
Their reflections are personal, pointed, and deeply theological. They sometimes gently, but persistently, and often eloquently challenge the church and society to recognize, acknowledge, and seek to abolish the racism that continues to exist in our faith communities in spite of our strong desires to believe that such dynamics are things of the past.
I was aware, as I was reading through quickly, that I will need to read them again – one at a time, with time to reflect, consider, and ponder my own participation in the cultures, patterns, structures, and systems that perpetuate discrimination. And I was reminded that I need to keep listening to different voices and reading a variety of interpretations of Scripture, especially when I’m preparing to preach God’s Word.
There is a reason why my sources for biblical scholarship should not only be commentaries from fifty or even twenty years ago, because new wisdom and insight is coming from diverse cultures, languages, and experiences, and I need to learn from them.
When considering the Gospel text for today from Mark 13, my first inclination was to notice the uncertainty, worry, and fear associated with Jesus’ description of the temple being utterly destroyed, and the nations of the world unsettled by wars and rumours of wars. That’s why I chose “Don’t be alarmed” as my sermon title before I had actually written the sermon.
I thought about the instability of our world today – my concerns about the deep divisions and worrying directions taken by the United States in recent weeks, my concern about the intractable conflicts and wars in Ukraine and Gaza, and my despair at the ongoing violence and oppression in South Sudan, Haiti, and so many other places.
Although it pales in comparison to world conflicts, I have to admit that the rural/urban divide in politics and ideology in our province is disheartening too. And when I think about future prospects for federal leadership, I worry about the deepening divides in our country that are not dissimilar to those south of the border.
I wish we lived in a world where we didn’t need to pray so much for peace – where everyone could just get along with each other and live in harmony. But no matter how much I may pray for it, or hope for it, things aren’t going to change without significant upset.
Can you imagine being there with Jesus and his disciples outside the temple in Jerusalem in the first century? They were in awe, as they looked up at the massive buildings made from huge stones. Look what their leaders and their people had achieved! It was a sight to behold!
But Jesus told them that the awe-inspiring structures and accomplishments of powerful people and cultures were going to come down and be utterly destroyed. “Not one stone will be left here upon another,” he told them. And there will be “wars and rumours of wars,” and “nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom.” It sounds terrible. It sounds like the end of the world as we know it.
But one of the voices I turned to this week to try to make sense of the Gospel text was Samuel Cruz, the Associate Professor of Church and Society at Union Theological Seminary in New York, and a member of the Latino community.
Professor Cruz wrote this: “We must keep in mind that when Jesus was asked: “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” and he answers, “Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” He had already said in the previous passages that this wondrous building had been built off the sweat and exploitation of widows and the poor.
“It was for this reason that, although it looked magnificent and pure, it was truly putrescent inside. Therefore, the destruction of this magnificent edifice might be troubling for those who maintained their power and prestige in its survival, but not so for the common faithful widow.
“One of the challenges for us in the 21st century and living in one of the most affluent countries in the world, is that we cannot truly relate to what Jesus is saying. Jesus is suggesting that there is “sin” in our world and that a complete apocalyptic transformation is therefore required. The challenge for us is that “sin” has become a non-contextual spiritual construction with no relevance to our real lives. However, for Jesus “sin” is very contextual — it means oppression, exploitation, abuse of the widow, orphan, migrant, transgender people. Therefore, the system that has been built from evil must be destroyed and made anew. This system might even include our churches and their institutions.”
Although the conflict involved in toppling the unjust systems produces instability, uncertainty, and even fear, it is necessary to challenge the status quo for anything to change. Just think of the Black Lives Matter protests of a few years ago, or the rallies held in support of transgender youth in our province more recently.
No one wants to shout and raise their fists in the air in protest, but remaining silent and accepting discrimination is no solution. A radical restructuring is required to bring encouragement to the marginalized then and now, and hope that the oppressive structures of society will be destroyed.
Cruz gives this assurance: “In the midst of this apparent chaos and destruction, Jesus brings words of hope: “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” It is easy to forget that the narrative does not end with gloom and doom. Although too often this narrative has been used to portray a hopeless and catastrophic situation, in reality, Jesus seems to be speaking about a hopeful and salvific future. We all know, and some have experienced, the physical pain that women endure while giving birth. However, after the most powerful forces of pain take place, birth is the result, and the new life is then celebrated.
“Therefore, it seems that the apocalyptic words of Jesus were meant to bring a message of hope especially to the subjugated of his society and ours.”
Here at First Church, we recently had a very challenging and thought-provoking discussion about racism in our Book Club. Although our church community has a fair amount of cultural and racial diversity, the people in the conversation that evening were all white women, struggling in our own unique ways as we tried to listen to the voices of a Black and an Asian woman expressing their anger at white women for participating in the systems of oppression.
I think that for me, one of the most frustrating things about the book we read was the conviction of the authors that as white people we would always be inherently racist. It seemed that there was nothing we could possibly do to break free of the systemic racism and structural oppression that we have inherited from our ancestors. It made me feel stuck and angry. What’s the point of waking up to my biases and discriminatory assumptions if it’s impossible to grow and change?
But I don’t think they’re right about that. And maybe it’s my faith that causes me to hope and hold on to the possibility that I can become more loving, and people can stand up for one another and for those who are oppressed in our societies. And ultimately that God can bring down the unjust powers of the world so that not one stone will be left upon another, and a world of goodness and righteousness and justice and peace can be inaugurated.
I’m not going to say much about the other Scripture text from Hebrews this morning because it’s almost time for me to stop talking. But I do want to point out that it’s a text about sin, about forgiveness, and about transformation.
It’s a text that proclaims the grace of God, who in Jesus Christ, has given everything in order to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. God puts the laws of love in our hearts, and writes them on our minds. God gives us another chance when we go the wrong way, and teaches us to walk more and more in the way of love.
The author of Hebrews encourages the early Christians to hold fast to the hope that they have in Jesus Christ, and to trust that God is faithful. God will be faithful. And then… I think this is the best part… she says, “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
In one interpretation of the text, a commentator used the word “irritate” instead of “provoke.” Let us irritate one another into being more loving and doing more good deeds! And certainly, my life would probably be more peaceful, simpler, and undisturbed if I didn’t read provocative (even irritating) books about white privilege or devotionals about racism.
But I think, within the church community, we do need to challenge one another, provoke and irritate one another even, and keep on pushing each other to become the disciples of Christ and the people of God that we are intended to become.
I’m grateful for the folks who added their voices to the devotional on racism, especially given the vulnerability that comes with sharing their experiences. And I’m grateful that our church includes diverse people, cultures, languages, and experiences, and that we can meet together, learn from one another, and encourage one another in these difficult times.
Let’s pray together for the fullness of God’s Reign of justice and peace to come in the church and in the world. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.