Is this the beginning or the end?

     Happy new year!!!!  That's right, it's once again the new year in our church calendar.  We had a wonderful celebration on Christ the King Sunday, reflecting on how Christ as King makes all the difference in the world.
     Now the thing I love most about the church is that it seems so backward most of the time.  We go against most of what the world values, as we heard last week; we find power in places such as suffering, death, and babes in mangers; and the church year begins with the end.
     Where you might think the church year would start somewhere logical, like with creation, or Jesus' birth foretold, instead we start right where the whole thing ends, with Christ's return.  Our gospel text this week comes from Luke 21, a picture of signs of the end times and Jesus' second coming.  Biblical scholar and self-proclaimed Jesus freak Mark Allen Powell has this to say:

If psychology tells us that what we are is determined by our past, then eschatology tells us that what we can be is determined by our future.  In other words, what we know and believe about our future has a genuine effect on the    present. Ultimately, 'hope' is what makes all the difference. 

mission, meaning, purpose - all are grounded in hope

     In other words, knowing what is coming, knowing what is at the end of it all, impacts how we live our present.  Yes, we are shaped by our past experiences.  Everyone is, and psychology can help shed a lot of light on that aspect of humanity.  However as people of faith we also believe in the future.

     Without knowing the ending we might, perhaps, do as the gospel of Luke tells us not to, that is,

have "hearts weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life." (Luke 21.34)  Rather, Jesus says, because we know that at the end is salvation, eternal life, and peace, we ought to "stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near." (Luke 21.28)

     The interesting thing about this text is that the author of Luke promises that all of these signs will take place in our lifetimes, "For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth." (Luke 21.35)  Obviously it would seem, Christ did not come back in the lifetimes of the original readers and hearers of this text.  Obviously, it would seem, Christ did not come back in the generations since.  And, it would also seem, that at least so far, Christ has not returned in ours.  So why, then, does it say all who live will have to face the end?

     Well, perhaps this is another of those texts written with multiple meanings.  Perhaps, as it would seem on the surface, we are being told of the final, ultimate coming of Christ.  And, perhaps as is slightly less obvious, we are being told of the little, disruptions of life that mean the end of one thing and the beginning of another.  

     And the latter are endings we all experience.  Disruptions include things like the ending of relationships - through death, divorce, moving, or simply from the natural run of things.  Disruptions include things like the ending of chapters - through life transitions, job changes, or the way life simply changes who you are and how you are in the world.  Disruptions include things like the start of a war, the drop of the economy and markets, Hurricane Sandy, and a severe drought.  

     Disruptions happen every day.  And we have two ways of dealing with them.  We can react with fear and foreboding or we can react with hope and certainty that with the disruption our redemption is drawing near.

     We begin with the end.  The Alpha and the Omega.  The eternal One who brings salvation and who draws near in unexpected places and ways in the midst of little disruptions and, finally, at the end of times.  After thinking on the big end and the little disruptions, I am left to ponder my own life - where are my little disruptions and how do I react?  Is this the beginning or the end?

The all-powerful powerless?

     Do a search for 'kingdom of God' in your favorite image search engine.  Seriously.  Do it.  What do you find?  When I did the search, I came up with many images of pretty clouds, a mix of both beautiful and cartoonish gates, the colors are warm, with strong looking hands coming out of the sleeve of a white robe, and crosses splash brilliantly across a rainbowed sky.  With this Sunday we celebrate Christ the King, and these are the images we read from scripture:

        A stream of fire issued
and flowed out from his presence.
   A thousand thousands served him,
and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him.

To him was given dominion                     
and glory and kingship,                 
that all peoples, nations, and languages               

should serve him.           
His dominion is an everlasting dominion        
that shall not pass away,      
and his kingship is one   
that shall never be destroyed.

 

 Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him; and on his account 

all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be.

 Amen.
I am the 

Alpha and the Omega, 

says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

 

     These are indeed mighty and marvelous images.  The final judgment with the 'clouds rolled back as a scroll' as the old hymn* says.  It is an awesome image, the Christ who was crucified, the Word of God who has been since the beginning, the savior of the nations coming to reign on earth.

     And yet with all this might and power our gospel reading comes from John 18, where Jesus is standing before Pilate: a prisoner, a king who is mocked, beaten, and bruised, powerless.  These images stand in stark contrast with one another - the king and almighty, standing in power over all peoples, nations, and languages - and Jesus the insurrectionist, criminal, and powerless Jewish leader. 

     What are we to do with these two images?  Christ the all-powerful with all things subjected and Christ the all-powerless with the weight of the world on his shoulders?  They are so simultaneously incongruent it seems that they cannot both be true.  And yet, our faith, our tradition, Scriptures tell us it is so.  That the creator of the cosmos, the God who was, who is, and who is to come, the Almighty is also the God who became.  In our time and place, bound by laws of physics and thermodynamics, a human being who was arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death.

    And we know this to be true, for it is the life of Christ that is the testimony.  His life which testifies to the good, all-powerful God who became human and suffered the same as us.  The powerful hidden in the powerless, God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

     So as we approach the end of our Christian year, looking ahead to the new year of Advent, I am pondering what God's kingdom looks like.  On earth God's kingdom is imperfect, not yet come to fruition.  Yet we know God's kingdom has come.  Partially, in glimpses, we see the all-powerful among us.  Often I am surprised by where I see God's kingdom.  More often than not, I find God's kingdom in the powerless, poor, and downtrodden.  I find God in the face of the child, the voice of the stranger, and the life of the victim.  For that is where Jesus was.  

     The one who was, who is, and who is to come has made himself known to us and has sent the Spirit to give us eyes to see.  As we gather this week to celebrate Christ the King, let us remember that he is an extraordinary king, not in the way we think of it, but in God's upside down kingdom sense of it.

How is my labor?

     As we near the end of the church year, the readings take on a decidedly more apocalyptic tone.  Sunday's readings all deal with 'that day' when the world will be no more.  The Daniel text talks of those who will rise to shine like stars in that day, the Hebrews text encourages us to continue meeting together even more so as 'that day' approaches, and in the Mark text Jesus talks about the temple being destroyed, wars, and people coming to lead them astray - and this is but the beginning, for 'that day' will not have yet come.
     It is interesting this year particularly, that these texts are coming to us just as the end is coming - in the Mayan calendar, at least.  One of my facebook friends posted on Wednesday, November 7:

Now that all that election mumbo jumbo is over, maybe we can focus on the fact that the world is due to end on December 21st, 2012.

While said in humor and jest, it is interesting that, for the most part, we live our lives as though we would live forever.  We don't really think about the end until some crazy person makes a prophecy only to have the supposed 'last day' come and go, and the world still exists. So even if we had been holding our breath (just a little bit - and not enough that we would admit it to anyone) life goes on.  Schedules fill up, errands are run, and we live making plans for the future.
     Some days it seems as if Jesus' predictions are coming true.  Rumors of war, earthquakes, famine - all this must take place Jesus says.  And these are but the beginning of the birth pangs.  Now, having been through labor and childbirth, I know what it is to wait.  The beginning of the birth pangs, through the middle, these are the worst.  You know there is a long way to go.  You are prepared for the work and the pain.  And even as expedited as my labor was (I received a bit of pitocin to get my labor going), there was a moment in the middle when it seemed as if it would never end.  The pain was intense, weariness was edging its way in, and I didn't see a way out.
     The people in Jesus' time felt this way.  Always living with the expectation that the world would end, it seemed that the end was just never coming.  There were all these predictions and signs that it was about to come, but each day the sun rose and set, and life continued.  When we hear texts about the end of the world it may seem a little disconnected.  In our post-enlightenment, and now post-modern world view, the end of time is of little concern to us.  We don't live with the fear or anticipation of the end.  Or do we?
     Who of us hasn't thought, at least once or twice, "will the world never change?"  Who of us hasn't wished, at least once or twice, "please let there be no more pain"?  Who of us hasn't once or twice wanted to simply give up hope and quit.  Not necessarily on any one, big thing like life, but in those daily, little things.  Perhaps you are trying to break or create a habit - will the end never come?  Perhaps you are living in a particularly busy time in life - will the end never come?  Perhaps you are going through a laboriously difficult spell - will the end never come?
     It is into this small, daily expectation and anticipation that our Word from scripture comes to us.  And it is particularly to Hebrews that I want to pay attention. 

Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.

  
Perhaps what our author from Hebrews is trying to remind us here is that it is not just about the end.  It is also about the all the little, in-between moments that make up life.  It isn't about that great day of judgement, but it is about each day where each of us makes judgement on how we lived.  It isn't about the great resurrection, but it is about each little moment of resurrection life we live in faith.  It is about not giving up hope in the little things so that when the big thing comes we wait for it with anticipation and excitement.
     Because, in the end, when the labor is over, we will have arrived.  The end is where all is well.  The end is where the life lived is brought to everlasting life.  The end is where there is no more pain, suffering, or sorrow.  The end is where we are once again whole.  The end is where, with Christ our king, we live forever in glory.
    And until we get there, I am left pondering the mystery, how is my labor? 

Love until it hurts?

     Sunday's readings are all about sacrifice.  In the first reading from 1 Kings 17, a widow who is preparing her last meal shares with Elijah and God miraculously provides jars of oil and meal so that she doesn't run out.  In the reading from Hebrews 9 the author talks about Christ's own sacrifice for all people for the forgiveness of sins.  In Mark 12 Christ tells us that a widow who has sacrificed by giving two small copper coins actually gave much because she gave out of poverty rather than abundance.
     November 11 has been a day of honor since 1919, when it began as a day of remembrance called Armistice Day, marking the armistice between Allied and German forces the year before.  In 1954 Armistice Day became Veterans' Day, a day to honor all veterans, not just those of World War I.  It is a day to remember and honor all veterans who served during times of war and peace,and to remember the sacrifice people have made to make our nation what it is today.
     Sacrifice is indeed a theme that we see many times in the readings and celebrations for Sunday.  And it has gotten me to thinking about the life of faith and sacrifice.
     The widows sacrificed.  Widows were the lowest of low in the social totem, with no one to care for them, no real rights or hope for improvement unless someone took pity on them, and a bleak future.  Yet these two, not mentioned by name, are held up as wonderful examples of faith.  The widow in 1 Kings wasn't even an Israelite.  She most likely didn't worship God, but probably worshiped the god of her area, which would have been Baal.  Yet she sacrificed for Elijah because he told her God would provide.  The widow in Mark is given even less of a story.  We know nothing of her story, where she lives, if she is young or old.  We know only that she put in two copper coins, worth a penny.  And we know that it was all she had to live on.
     Interestingly, there are no reasons given for these two widows' sacrifice.  So I wonder, why?  Why would a widow with a starving son give the last of her meal to a stranger?  Why would a widow give her last penny to the treasury, knowing it was all she had left?  Was it that there was nothing left to lose?  Were they so desperate that it was with a prayer they gave and hoped that God would somehow provide?  Did they simply have such faith that they knew money and food are just materials for this life?
     I am especially struck by the widow in Mark 12 - and the contrast between her and the rich people who contributed large sums to the treasury.  Today, the final day of election season, stands in stark contrast with this widow.  With both candidates raising over $1 billion each, campaign fundraising has gone to a new level.  I wonder what this means for sacrifice?  What if people who contributed to campaigns also contributed an equal amount to a charity?  Or, what if people contributed an equal amount to go to national debt reduction?  Or what if people only contributed half of what they did to the campaigns and one-and-a-half times that to something else? 
     What does sacrifice look like for you?  For our vets, sacrifice looked like giving of themselves: their time, their energy, and sometimes their lives.  For our widows sacrificed looked like giving of themselves: their last and final possessions.  For Christ, sacrifice looked like giving of himself: shedding all the glory of being God and taking on human form, subjecting himself to pain, grief, life, and death, loving us into salvation.
    So what does sacrifice look like for you?  What does it mean that in Christ's sacrifice of life and love we ourselves are freed to live and love others?  How do I love until it hurts?