Sermon for the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost

On this 23rd Sunday after Pentecost, I am at St. John's Episcopal Church in Ashfield.

There is a lot going on in today’s gospel reading. It feels like the world that Jesus is describing, a declining Roman empire, is coming apart at the seams. It’s coming unglued.

And maybe we can relate to that. We might use some different metaphors, but our own experience with hyper-partisan politics and a planet that is in crisis makes this gospel reading feel like it could be ripped from the day’s headlines. Impeachment hearings, yet another school shooting...the list is long. And it’s scary stuff. 

There is a line in a Bob Dylan song that goes like this: “it’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.” It’s on an album called Time Out of Mind that was released twenty years ago. For me, that line speaks to our situation and the situation of today’s gospel reading: it’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.

So there are lots of sermons, I suppose, to be preached on today’s gospel reading and perhaps many of them are about trying to articulate how Episcopalians might talk about apocalyptic theology in our own accent, different from southern Baptist ways of doing so. I’ve probably preached a dozen sermons like that myself over three decades of ordained ministry.

But what I noticed this time around as I prepared to come and be with you is that while most of what Jesus offers in today’s gospel reading is descriptive of that reality, hidden in plain sight are four prescriptive lines. To put it another way, Jesus describes what’s going on in a world that is coming apart, but he also offers four specific imperatives about how to respond to that reality. And for me, there is good news in that advice that is worth paying attention to.

What are we supposed to do when we notice that it’s dark out and getting darker still? Curse the darkness? No. We have been here before. By “we” I mean the people called to follow Jesus. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Throughout history, Christians have lit candles to remember that even one small candle can throw enough light, once our eyes adjust, to find our way in the dark.

Somebody around here will drag out the Advent wreath in a couple of weeks, and one at a time, we’ll light those candles, here and in congregations across this Commonwealth, as our ancestors have been doing from generation to generation. Why? Because we know/we trust/we believe/we affirm/we insist/we hope that the light still shines in the darkness, and that the darkness will not overcome it. This is our work – to let our little lights shine in and through us, in the neighborhood.

With all that in mind, I call your attention to those four imperatives in today’s gospel reading. Jesus is addressing his disciples – that includes us – about how to navigate through times like this. He says:

• Beware that you are not led astray;
• Do not be terrified;
• This will give you an opportunity to testify; 
• By your endurance you will gain your souls.

Do not be led astray. It’s so easy to get lost when the world is a mess. It’s so easy to lose sleep, and get distracted, and get sucked in, and forget who we are and where we are and what we are called to be about. In so many other places in Scripture, Jesus says that he is the Way. My favorite of those is when Jesus is telling the disciples about how to be faithful when he’s gone and that they know the way and Thomas says, “no we don’t, Lord, we are just not as smart as you sometimes think we are!” And Jesus says, stick with me, Thomas: I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. Follow me. That is how we avoid being “led astray.” That is how we keep from getting lost. We keep our eyes on the prize. We stay close to Jesus.

Do not be terrified. Terror is paralyzing. When we are scared we often just spin our wheels. So repeat after me: do not be afraid. I am told on good authority that those words appear in scripture 365 times, once for every day of the year. Usually they are on the lips of some angel or another, but today they are spoken by Jesus himself. Those with ears to hear, need to hear. Because we do no good toward the glory of God when the terror moves from the world to take residence in our heads. Or in our guts. It will corrode from the inside out. We do no good toward the glory of God or toward mending the brokenness of this world if we are so terrorized that we unwittingly participate in the mess. So, do not be terrified. Jesus is Lord. We belong first, and foremost, to God. And She’s got the whole world in Her hands. God is not anxious. Brokenhearted? No doubt. Angry? Good Biblical evidence to say, highly likely. But not anxious. God knows how the story ends: with peace on earth and good will toward all. 

When the world is coming unglued, and we stop being afraid, this gives us an opportunity to testify. Now that’s a word that needs to be unpacked, but it’s a very Biblical idea in both old and new testaments. Walter Brueggemann’s big tome on the theology of the Old Testament is called: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. I don’t want to go down a rabbit hole too far on that – I’ll have to come back here again for that! But very briefly, Brueggemann compares testimony to sitting in a courtroom and trying to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing about the truth. We don’t need to stand on a street corner with a tract in our hands!

But what we do need to do is to rescue that word because the world needs us to tell the truth in a world of lies. We testify to what we have seen and heard and know of the love of Jesus, for all the little children of the world. That testimony means that we will not be silent when children are locked in cages. We testify to the truth that we are a people who respect the dignity of every human being, no matter what. Our testimony demands that we will not be divided by race or creed or sexual orientation – or stand by when others do that. That we will work for justice and peace until we take our very last breath. Testimony is like that sign I saw on your church, facing Main Street, that tells the world that you follow the way of love. 

Testimony is about not only words, but actions. When we stop being afraid, and anxious, it allows us to access our brains so we aren’t responding like reptiles to every crisis. And to soften our hearts so that we can be witnesses who testify to the truth. That truth still sets us free, and also offers hope for the world. When we fearlessly persist, with God’s help, the light shines in the darkness.

And then, that’s it, right? Add water and stir and we get peace on earth and good will to all! Only five weeks to the dear Savior’s birth, and Dylan can write the next verse: it’s getting lighter out! Gosh those Christians are good!

We know how the story ends. But it’s a marathon, not a sprint. Actually it’s like one of those super-marathons which I can barely even fathom. It’s forty years in the Sinai Desert. It’s longer than that in Babylon after the exile. It may feel like Narnia for a while, where it’s always winter and never Christmas. And so the fourth word from Jesus: endurance. By your endurance, you will gain your souls.

I suspect that this may be the hardest word of all in a society that not only loves technical fixes but loves quick instant technical fixes. And we are they. When I have to stand in a line for more than a minute and a half, I start looking ahead to see what could be fixed – who is not doing their job – or what customer is gumming up the works. Whether I’m in a bank or a restaurant or a grocery store or a big church where it’s taking too long to administer the sacrament, I know for sure how I could make it more efficient if given the chance.

The existential and cosmic challenges we are facing at this moment in history are not like that, however. They require deep, adaptive, fundamental changes that are not going to happen fast. And they require communities to change, not just charismatic leaders to fix things. As that (other) theologian from New Jersey puts it, it’s gonna be a long walk home.

So we have to figure out how to live in the meantime. How to endure. How to be resilient. How to support each other along the way. How to be courageous ourselves and to en-courage one another. How to make that long journey by putting one foot in front of the other. By endurance we discover and rediscover who we are, and whose we are.

I don’t need to have the last word here today. We get texts like this in the weeks ahead. Christ the King and the first week of Advent are about asking these same kinds of questions: what do we do in a world where it feels very dark right now? The truth is that we have to learn how to find our way in the dark. We can also light one candle. And then another. And then another. And then yet another.

We walk by faith and as we get our bearings, we commit to sticking with Jesus. We hold hands, so as not to be so terrified. We testify to the Light of the world and seek that light in our own lives. And then, slowly but with purpose and conviction and hope, we begin to move. One step at a time. Together. We know, and we believe, and we trust that these ordeals and sufferings produce endurance. And endurance produces character. And character produces hope. And hope does not disappoint us. Hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. (See Romans 5:3-4)

These days are an opportunity, and an invitation, to remember who we are and whose we are, and what we are called to be about. Do not lose heart!