Note: This sermon was originally given by Jessica on November 14, 2024 in reflections on Scripture from the lectionary (Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25 / Mark 13:1-8). She was invited to offer her reflection during the virtual weekly Sabeel Wave of Prayer (all are welcome). Sabeel is the ecumenical, grassroots center for Palestinian liberation theology, rooted in the universal ethic of nonviolence. In English, "Sabeel" can roughly be translated to "The Way", the name of Christianity in its earliest days. Friends of Sabeel North America, an interdenominational Christian organization seeking justice and peace in the Holy Land through education, advocacy, and nonviolent action, hosted Jessica and other US Christians on both of her solidarity delegations to Palestine-Israel in December 2022 and August 2024.
Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes in various places, and famines. These are the beginning of birth pains. (Mark 13:8)
Jesus told the disciples that he’s not talking about an ending but about a beginning, the birthing of new life. He’s describing a movement toward wholeness, fullness, and completion. It’s a gospel about hope. It’s a gospel about opportunities and possibilities. It’s a gospel about finding meaning and new life.
“People speak of hope as if it is this delicate ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider’s webs. It’s not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of cobblestone in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.”1
I’ve come to realize that when I become alarmed about the future I’m not really focused on the unknown and a time yet to come. I lose, in those moments, the guiding perspective of eternity. I become focused on the narrow, the known - I want to know if the temples I’ve built will withstand the test of time. Will the systems I’ve created for my life and loved ones remain intact? Will my version of justice come to fruition in the time that I have prescribed? What futile fear and anxiety can strike our hearts in these moments of skewed perspective rooted in just what one human lifetime can see! Maybe that’s what is going on with the disciple who says to Jesus, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!”
Jesus responds to the disciple with images of separation: nation separated from nation, kingdom from kingdom, the earth from itself, the stomach from food. Those images describe not only what is happening around us but also within us. That’s the hard and challenging part of today’s gospel. It’s showing and telling us something we don’t want to see, hear, or deal with. It’s too frightening, painful, and uncertain. What if, however, they are not separations that destroy but separations that create and give birth? What if they are an opening, a space, for something new to come to life? In these times, have we remembered the grace of surrender?
Jesus is never more compassionate than he is during these times. He speaks with such tenderness and reassurance. “Do not be alarmed.” “This must take place.” “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” It’s as if he saying, “Don’t worry. This is normal. You’re going to be ok. I, Jesus, will be the Midwife who will get you through this.” As Steve Garmas-Holmes taught us, we “sharpen the blades of our hope on the stone of grief.”
We are certainly living through what can be understood as a change of era, not simply an era of change. We see this in the fall of an empire and the rise of new ones, an increasingly multi polar global economy, rapid technologization bringing us all into one village, increasing concentration of wealth in the hands of the few, and climate catastrophe. Even in 1967, Martin Luther King Jr spoke of the change we are living through: “As machines replace men, we must again question whether the depth of our social thinking matches the growth of technological creativity.” We are living through the birth pangs of a new era, and we were chosen for this time.
And here I would like to quote a passage from the introduction of the book “The Way of Paradox: Spiritual Life as Taught by Meister Eckhart”. It is written by the late Cyprian Smith, Benedictine monk of Ampleforth Abbey, who died in 2019 at the age of 81. Cyprian connects the woes and birthing pains of this age to the previous change of era that took place in the 1400s.
“Fourteenth century Europe was anything but a settled and tranquil place. Though the traditional structures of power, spiritual and temporal, were still there, and adorned with much outward magnificence, there was much unrest, violence, injustice and insecurity. Then, as today, the yearning for Apocalypse was present. … We live today in an age of transition, in which traditional ways of thinking and living are passing away, yet new ways have not yet been found to replace them. This generates doubt and confusion and, above all, a sense of profound dissatisfaction.
When a society and culture has grown old, and is felt to have outlived its value, that automatically generates restlessness and a desire for radical change, even, necessary, by violent and ruthless means... It does not take a profit or a visionary to recognize that Apocalypse is in the air, the conviction that society and culture as we know it is drawing to an end, that it's time is running out. This theme is constantly cropping up today, in films, painting and poetry, the novels especially…
And anyone who has worked in church circles cannot fail to observe how people immediately sit up and take notice when the threatening prophecies are read out from the book of Revelation, but seem to be in no way reassured by the vision of the heavenly Jerusalem which follows! Why should this be, since both prophecies belong to Scripture, and are therefore presumably both inspired? But in a world threatened with injustice, violence and the possibility of nuclear holocaust, it is the pessimistic prophecy which strikes home, because it is closer to experience... and also, perhaps, to desire.”
In these times of a change of era, we must keep hope close and surrender closer. Who are we to judge the justice of God, but is it not rather the justice of God that judges us? We do what we can every day to bring about God’s peace on this physical Earth, but may we surrender at the end with the attitude of “I do not judge anyone. I can only judge myself.” And I repeated the words there of Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian farmer and conscientious objector during World War II. Jägerstätter was sentenced to death and executed for his refusal to fight for Nazi Germany. He is venerated as a martyr, as so are the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian civilians and children who have become unwilling martyrs as victims of the tyranny of violence that corrupts and steals the souls of those committing war crimes and genocide en masse. Let us remember to pity those who have fallen from grace, and surrender what we cannot accomplish at the end of each day to our God of justice, God of peace, God of mercy.
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. (Hebrews 10:24-25)
As we hold the birthing pains of being chosen for these times of a change of era, let us return our attention to the passage of Hebrews we contemplate today. “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.” The disciple is preaching to us community, of which trust and vulnerability are essential.
For we know the call of the Christian disciple is not to focus on the narrow, but to narrow our focus. Jesuit Gregory Boyle in “Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship” teaches us that “the gate that leads to life is not about restriction at all. It is about an entry into the expansive. There is a vastness in knowing that we are each a son, daughter, child worth having. We see our plentitude in God's own expansive view of us, and we marinate in this.”
And now I would like to offer the following words of wisdom, adapted from Baptist evangelist Ken Sehested’s Prayer and Politiks reflection “Drawing near to God’s mercy - A welcome to worship”:
“Towards one another in the beloved community who accept and seek the love of our Creator, we offer compassion, we agitate, we comfort, we consort in making mischief in the face of power’s threat, we speak tenderly and bind up the wounds of the abused, we expose deceit and call out corruption, we stake our welfare to that of the least, the lost, the languishing and, as best we can, offer a welcome to the maimed, the shamed—all who have no seat at the table of bounty.
After all, do you know why I love being in this place and with this people? These friends are as crazy as I am! You have to be a little crazy to believe that one day lion and lamb will peaceably coexist. That swords will be forged into plowshares. That the meek will inherit the earth, and all tears will be dried!
And so we gather to ritually draw near to God’s glory—to God’s mercy, God’s tenderness, God’s grace. Doing so, you should note, means we draw near to God’s pathos, to God’s mourning for the mangled condition of Her Creation. To honor God is to honor God’s outrage over the state of the world—over its disruption, its broken, bruised, and battered places—and to become immersed in that rage not for the sake of vengeance or retribution, but for reparation, for renewal, for restoration. Indeed, for salvation.
We love because we are loved by the One who gave birth to creation and called it good. As with Jesus, we endure the ruling authorities’ resistance because of the joy set before us, the joy that sustains against all threat, that sustains even in heartache and frustration and failure. We keep the eternal perspective. Joy, not moral heroism, is the secret to perseverance.”
In hope, in prayer, we find ourselves here.
AUTHOR
Jessica Sun (she/they) is a 2nd generation Chinese American zillennial from Virginia and is an experienced local volunteer community advocate of 8 years. A Catholic convert after 10 years of identifying with varying philosophies as an agnostic, she finds a dear sense of belonging in spaces of zealous, Gospel-led advocacy and action for just peace and nonviolence. She holds a B.S. in Computer Science from the Virginia Tech College of Engineering and worked in the banking industry as a software engineer for five years. She is currently discerning a vocation as a member of the Benedictine Sisters of Erie, and is on the leadership team for the Pax Christi Young Adult Caucus in the US.
Matthew (@CrowsFault) on Twitter
My favorite text about this time is Luke’s rendering of Jesus’ words, “When you see these things, stand tall, look up, your redemption draws nigh.”
Jessies' article has left me with much to ponder on a wonderful enlighten article and I give thanks for her deep compassion and wisdom