The Advent/Christmas season is one of hope, but contrary to
popular notions, it does not begin there. The season begins with hopelessness.
This is the context in which the people of God are truly ready to hear a message
of grace and new beginnings. When all other options are closed, when we have
exhausted our personal resources, and when we have found all our idols wanting,
we are ready to receive the newness only the Lord can create. We are ready
to receive Jesus as our hope.
This sermon series explores the movement from hopelessness to
hope that is at the heart of the Advent/Christmas celebration. Each sermon
takes time to mark the hope in Christ, with the culminating declaration of
the gospel coming on Christmas day, as we rejoice in the salvation names of
Jesus. Before we arrive at that celebration, we spend time in preparation
to receive the Lord’s coming through the watch of anticipation, the act
of repentance, the attitude of humility, and the submission of faith. These
are the key words for the four Sundays of Advent. On the first Sunday following
Christmas, we respond to the hope we have received in Christ by committing
ourselves to the Lord in covenant. The following Sunday, as we enter Epiphany,
we recognize that the hope we have received in Christ is a hope we are called
to witness to the world. This progression begins as we reach the end of ourselves;
it draws us into Christ; and then it sends us as the Lord’s agents of
hope to reach the ends of the world.
Could you think of a better journey for your people to travel
this Advent/Christmas season? “For everything that was written in the
past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement
of the Scriptures we might have hope” (Romans 15:4). So let us embark
on the journey of hope found in the texts of the season. In doing so, “May
the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that
you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13).
Chapter 13 is the only extended body of Jesus’ teaching
Mark the evangelist records. Matthew, Luke, and John mention several other
great teaching moments within the life of Jesus, but Mark’s Jesus only
slows down His action-packed ministry long enough to teach with such thoroughness
in this one place. For Mark then, there must be great significance in this
instruction of Jesus on the Mount of Olives in response to His questioning
disciples.
Peter, James, John, and Andrew have asked Jesus about His comment
on the destruction of the temple, saying, “Tell us, when will these things
happen? And what will be the sign that they are all about to be fulfilled?”(v.
4). Jesus then answers with what we call Mark’s “Little Apocalypse.”
The material fits well the category of apocalyptic with its pessimistic view
of history and its anticipation of the end of the world in some great cosmic
upheaval. For this reason Mark 13 has received mixed reviews. As Lamar Williamson,
Jr. writes in his commentary, Mark (Interpretation series, John Knox Press),
“The thirteenth chapter of Mark is a happy hunting ground for persons
fascinated by the end of the world. It figures prominently in books by doomsayers
and in sermons by evangelists more interested in the next world than in this
one. On the other hand, this chapter is largely ignored by pragmatists, activists,
believers in progress, and all who dismiss preoccupation with the end of the
world” (pp. 235-236).
We dare not dismiss something of such great emphasis to Mark,
however. Yet what value is there for the day-to-day lives of our people if
we use this text only to point to the next world? Is there a more pastoral
perspective from which to view this material? Is there a means by which it
might have relevant, daily application to Jesus’ 21st-century disciples?
Is there another way to understand this apocalyptic material? Does its place
within the total flow of Mark’s Gospel give us any clues?
In its context, chapter 13 stands as the doorway by which we
enter into Mark’s passion narrative. Like the Upper Room discourse in
the Gospel of John, this passage functions as Jesus’ final word of instruction
to His disciples. These verses are clearly a description of life lived in
Jesus’ absence, with “false Christs and false prophets” claiming
His place (v. 22). In the next chapter that absence moves from prophecy to
reality as Jesus is taken from His disciples. These verses also vividly describe
the awfulness of life lived in Jesus’ absence. The days preceding the
end, when “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light;
the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken”
(vv. 24-25), are horrific. The dominant features are deception (v. 6), war
(v. 7), disaster (v. 8), persecution (v. 9), betrayal (v. 12), and sacrilege
(v. 14). So awful are the days that, if they were not cut short, no one would
survive (v. 20). Jesus warns His disciples that this setting will be their
turf. Jesus is going to be absent. The disciples can expect it to be awful
in His absence. The crucifixion in chapter 15 is the guarantee that Jesus
is on the mark with His warning.
Not all is gloom and doom, however. There is a message of hope
as well. The pastoral message of Mark’s “Little Apocalypse”
is simply this: Jesus is coming. He is certainly coming, as Mark illustrates
with fig leaves and passing heavens (vv. 28-31). In the assurance of the coming
Jesus, the disciples are to find hope greater than the horror of His absence.
Therefore, they are to watch with anticipation for His coming, as the short
parable about the servants and their coming master communicates (vv. 34-36).
The driving reality behind all of chapter 13 is not the awfulness of the end
but the hope of Jesus’ coming.
This proclamation is not only a word for the final moment of
time, but it becomes the source of hope for those living in the difficult
scenes that mark the many moments leading to the end of time. There is no
timetable for ordering these scenes toward a known end. Jesus makes that clear
in v. 32. The context suggests, however, that there is a known beginning scene.
Jesus’ crucifixion marks the beginning of the awful birth pangs in which
the disciples will live and minister. What will be their hope as they do so?
The proclamation that Jesus is coming—that He has come, is coming, and
will come again. This is hope in the shadows of the end times. This is where
Advent begins.
“Apocalypse Now” could be the theme we give to our
nightly news programs. The horror of humanity’s inhumanity parades across
our television screens with regularity. Wars, earthquakes, and famines are
not events we are waiting to see. Betrayal, persecution, and sacrilege are
not only present but have become the standards of entertainment. The sun,
moon, and stars may still be shining, but we know all too well what it is
to live in the kind of deep darkness their absence would create. As with Jesus’
first disciples, this broken world filled with shadows is our turf. Where
do we find hope in the midst of this present darkness? Is there a reality
greater than the shadows in which we can anchor our soul?
A word of promise greets those living in the darkness and shadows
of a world gone awry.
“But in those days, following that distress . . . men will
see the Son of Man coming” (vv. 24-26). The coming of the Son of Man
becomes the word of hope to our questions, to the questions the church living
in the end times has been asking since the days of Jesus. There is a greater
reality than the shadows. The coming of the Son of Man pushes back the darkness
with His power and glory. Jesus does so not just at the end of time, however.
Jesus invades our darkness all the time with His coming. This is the promise
of resurrection. He has come, lives to come even now, and will one day come
again. Jesus comes to us with greater certainty than the sun that shines and
the movement of the tides. Jesus comes, and, in His coming, we find hope piercing
the shadows.
Watchfulness is to be the action and attitude by which Jesus’
disciples receive His coming. As an action, watching takes the shape of being
a servant within the master’s household. A servant has a calling, tasks,
and responsibilities. A watchful servant stewards those responsibilities well,
so as not to be caught sleeping at his or her post when the master comes.
This image also holds true for Jesus’ disciples as they watch for His
coming. Our watching implies that we are faithful to our task and calling,
even in the midst of opposition and awfulness. As an attitude, watching takes
on the shape of expectancy. Well prepared for the coming of the master, we
intently watch in hope for His coming. We peer through the shadows eager to
see how the Lord will come and slice the darkness with His power and glory.
Our hope in His coming is certain, so we watch with anticipation. While the
turning of the season may disappoint, Jesus will not. His coming is our hope
in the shadows.
(For the full manuscript of this sermon
go to www.preachersmagazine.org and click on “Sermons”)
Apocalyptic material communicates in images and metaphors. Jesus
prepares His disciples for end-time distress with descriptions of darkness
and a promise of coming exhibited on a cosmic scale. Sun, moon, and stars
fail to give light. The Son of Man comes in the clouds. The contrasts are
vast and are played out on an enormous stage; yet the message of hope they
communicate is not other-worldly. It is hope for life’s small, less impressive
moments as well. All of creation is caught up in the apocalyptic scenery.
For the text to re-function in the sermon, a similar use of imagery is appropriate.
Distress becomes the shadows we encounter, both personally and globally. Light
becomes the communicative tool for picturing the hope of Jesus’ coming
that chases those shadows.
The interpretation of an apocalyptic text is often complicated. The Bible Prophecy tradition in America’s popular religious culture creates further difficulty for preaching by its limited focus on only one aspect of apocalyptic communication. Weaving a different, more pastoral perspective through this Markan text is an invitation to walk through a theological mine field. Our congregations are worth the risk, however. One tool we can use to explore contrasting perspectives and new possibilities for interpretation is the reflective question. The goal is, through the careful use of reflective questions, to lead our hearers to a nod of understanding, and hopefully even agreement, about the message of hope Jesus proclaims in Mark’s 13th chapter. Then what may have been a dead text to be avoided in the minds of both preacher and listener may live again with the power and significance Mark intended.
