Daniel 12:1-3; Mark 13:1-8
2nd Sunday before Advent
St Barbara’s 17.11.2024
Rev Tulo Raistrick
How do you feel when you think about the future? Think about the future of the world – do you feel hopeful or despairing, fearful or optimistic? And how do you feel about your own future – as you look a year, two years, ten years ahead?
There has been a lot of reflection on that question in the press in the last few days, especially in the light of last week’s election results in the United States and the re-election of Donald Trump.
Our reading from Mark’s gospel this morning also looks to the future. It records a conversation between Jesus and his disciples about their future, and it touches upon themes that still feel very pertinent to today.
Their conversation begins when one of the disciples exclaims in awe and admiration as he looks at the Jerusalem Temple: “Look Teacher: what massive stones!what magnificent buildings!” And indeed the Temple in Jerusalem was magnificent, an enormous building that dwarfed everything else in the city, that towered on the skyline for miles around.
But like all huge buildings, its size was meant to communicate a message. Like the pyramids of ancient Egypt, like the ziggurats of Babylon, like the Pantheon in Rome, the temple in Jerusalem conveyed a sense of human achievement, of what people in power could command and make possible. For this Temple had been built by Herod the Great just a few decades earlier to proclaim his own power and greatness, whilst ostensibly being built to the glory of Israel’s God. Modern buildings are not too dissimilar – think of the Shard in London or some of the skyscrapers in Dubai – built to show the power and wealth of those who own them.
But Jesus does not have time for such architectural statements. He declares that a time will come when the whole Temple building will come crashing down.
There can be a temptation amongst people in power to look to the future with brash confidence, to believe that they are the answer to the world’s problems, that they have the skill, the insight, the courage to solve the problems of the world. Some of Donald Trump’s statements since becoming President-Elect sound almost messianic. But such confidence is almost always misplaced. And perhaps the Democrats were also guilty of hubris, thinking that Joe Biden’s increasing incapacity to lead could be hidden away, or that people of certain ethnic groups would always vote for them.
We need humility, not hubris, from our leaders, a recognition that pride almost always comes before a fall. And we need that for ourselves too. If we are tempted to look to the future and think that through our own efforts, we have got it all sorted, that a future of plain-sailing lies ahead, we are encouraged to think again. The edifices we build can come crashing down.
As we look to the future there is also a temptation to look for easy answers, to look to those who may promise quick, pain-free solutions. Jesus warned his disciples, “Many will come in my name claiming, “I am he”, and will deceive many.”
A feature of 21st century public life has been the growing distrust of institutions. We have been rocked by the numerous scandals and outrages committed by institutions which have been unearthed, whether it has been cover ups over the Hillsborough or Grenfell Tower disasters, or the Post Office Horizon scandal, or Partygate, or just this week, within the Church of England over failures to adequately address safeguarding concerns that led to Justin Welby’s resignation. I know of people whose lives have been torn apart by the inappropriate use of power by institutions that I for one had formerly just assumed were trustworthy.
And in that climate it is tempting to believe that what we need is people who offer simple solutions, whether it is to “drain the swamp” or repatriate all illegal immigrants or in morality terms, “go back to basics”. Across the world, incumbent governments are being voted out as people look for someone to blame. Frustration with how things are causes us to seek hope in ever more desperate places.
That may be true in our politics, but can it be true in other areas of our lives too? We look to those who offer us disarmingly simple solutions to challenges we face in our relationships, in our work, or in our Christian faith, because we are struggling to hold onto faith in what we have relied on in the past.
Jesus warned his disciples not to be deceived by false promises. As we look to the future, that warning applies to us too.
And as we look to the future, another temptation is to become overwhelmed by fear and despair. Jesus speaks of wars and rumours of wars, of nation rising against nation, of earthquakes and famines. We look around our world today and see those things all too clearly.
We live in a world where 800 million people (more than one in 10 people in the world) don’t have enough food to eat; where, due to climate change, the world is hotter and sea levels are higher than at any time in the last 2000 years; where wars and conflict proliferate, at appalling human cost. And where in our own communities there are immense challenges too: surveys finding that loneliness affects three quarters of all elderly people and that one in 4 girls aged 17-19 suffer from mental health problems. These are the challenges of a world in need.
But Jesus’ message is that the future does not end this way, it does not end in total destruction of our world or an endless spiral into darkness. This is part of the reality now, but a new future is coming, one of life and abundance, one of salvation and life.
This is a future not based on human achievement – which is as fragile and transitory as those huge stones of the Jerusalem temple turned out to be; nor is it based on the fake promises and simple solutions of those false messiahs that Jesus warned his disciples about; but is based on Jesus’ own life, death and resurrection.
It is Christ’s own life that shows us how we are to live: with love, compassion and humility, neither trumpeting our achievements or wallowing in despair. If we want a model for how to live our lives going forwards, we can do little better than to focus our vision on Jesus Christ. He is our guide, our inspiration, our strength, the foundation from which we can then address the challenges of our world.
It is Christ’s own death that gives us a realistic understanding of what life is like, that shows us that there are no simple, pain-free solutions, but that there is a real cost to service, that there is a real cost to making right decisions, and that the human sin that nailed Jesus to the cross continues to cause immense hurt and pain today.
And it is Christ’s own resurrection that points us to the fact that he will ultimately triumph over death and sin, bringing hope to the whole world. That his resurrection, his entering into the healing and abundant life of heaven, is a foretaste of our own future, and that of the world.
As we look to the future, let us look to Christ, to his life, his death and his resurrection, that we may find the hope and resilience we need to live in this world and work for its good.
