Community Church Sermons

Year B

November 18, 2012

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Corrective Lenses

Mark 13:1-8

Rev. Rhonda A. Blevins

Associate Pastor

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Many of you have noticed that I got new glasses a few days ago. Some of you have been intolerably cruel to equate this new development with the inevitability of old age creeping up on me. While I’m certain that my age has nothing to do with it, the fact of the matter is that it has become clear to me that the world has become increasingly blurry to me. I don’t mind that so much, but the Tennessee Department of Transportation doesn’t share my ambivalence.

I have to tell you what happened when I walked out of Dr. Bizer’s Vision World into West Town Mall donning my brand new glasses. Everything was crisper—clearer. Colors were more vivid. The way I looked at the world morphed in an instant. The world came alive and I stood amazed, marveling at how sharp things suddenly appeared. I looked at other people in the mall, somehow expecting them to be as excited as I was—but it didn’t take long to remember that nothing had changed for them. No one else seemed amazed. No one else seemed transfixed by the sights of West Town Mall. I was alone in this amazing experience—it was a whole new world, all thanks to corrective lenses.

In our scripture lesson today, Jesus offers the disciples a new way of seeing their world. We find Jesus and the disciples at the Temple in Jerusalem—he’s been teaching all who would listen about an assortment of things from loving God, loving others, dealing with taxes, and stewardship. Our text today picks up with Jesus and the disciples leaving the Temple, when one of them prompts Jesus to marvel at the architectural achievement of the Temple itself. It must have been an amazing sight . . . a massive complex of white marble adorned with gold according to one ancient historian. The temple in Jerusalem was not only a place for worship and sacrifice, but it was the center of wealth, of government, of religion, of culture. The temple, in all of its splendor, represented the entire way of life for the Jewish people. The temple was the pentagon, the white house, and the world trade center all rolled in together. It was a source of pride and national identity. The disciple commenting on the temple’s magnificence did nothing wrong. He simply expressed the sentiment of a nation.

Jesus’ response is amusing to me. Here’s the conversation in the RBV (Rhonda Blevins version).

“Jesus, this temple is an amazing architectural feat, isn’t it?”

Jesus stops in his tracks, and directs the attention of all his followers to the glorious building before them.

“Look at this incredible building, guys. It’s amazing, isn’t it?” They respond in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s all going to be obliterated. Nothing will be left. OK, let’s walk.”

It seems that Jesus teases them. He drops a bomb and leaves them hanging. He continues walking—perhaps a knowing smirk on his face. Together they leave the temple and walk the 10-15 minutes to the top of the Mount of Olives where they pause to rest, now looking out with a bird’s eye view of the temple in the distance.

Four of the disciples, two sets of brothers, Peter and Andrew, James and John, find their opportunity to press Jesus for more. They want inside information. These guys apparently have stock in the temple, and they want to know when to sell. Looking around to make sure the conversation can’t be overheard, they ask the question. “So . . . Jesus. Tell us when it’s going to happen. You know, the temple being destroyed thing.”

Let’s stop here and remember that Jesus constantly disappoints his followers. When they want him to play the militant rebel, he plays the Lamb of God. When they want him to pick favorites, he picks everyone. When they want him to be a soothsayer, he instead becomes a truth sayer.

“So . . . when’s it going to happen, Jesus?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows. And when someone tells you they know, they’re lying. There will always be wars and rumors of war. That’s just how it is. There will be earthquakes and famine. These things just are.”

I don’t know about you, but I like the happy Jesus better. As a preacher, I wrestled this week with this doom and gloom Jesus. “They’re not going to like this!” I argued with God. “What was Jesus trying to teach us? What is the message for us today?”

Finally, I got it. It’s corrective lenses. The disciples hoped in all the wrong things. Their hope, their wonder, their worldview completely revolved around the temple and everything it represented. They placed their trust in Judaism, in its institutions, in its currency, in its government. Their faith was short-sighted, myopic. They could only see what was right before them. “Look at the Temple, Jesus! Isn’t it amazing?” With no lack of shock value, Jesus told them that everything they trusted in would crumble. Their eyesight was weak, and they needed some new lenses to see reality more clearly.

Have you ever trusted in something that crumbled? A relationship? An institution? Your bank account? Your health? A system of belief?

Jesus wants to teach his disciples to view the world through the lens of faith. To place their trust in ultimate reality instead of the virtual reality of fallible human creations. The disciples have a hard time with this. We disciples still have a hard time with placing our faith in ultimate, albeit ethereal, truth. We prefer to trust in things we can touch and feel—in tangible things instead of some otherworldly notion of God and God’s love. So we create idols, golden calves, out of anything and everything we think might give us security. We place our trust in relationships, institutions, bank accounts, even in religion. And when these things fail, it seems as if our world is falling apart. But Jesus tells us how to make it through those times when it feels like the world is falling apart.

First of all he says, “Watch out—be not deceived. Keep your eyes open, and wear your glasses so that you can see beyond what is right in front of you. People will try to deceive you, and they’ll try to scare you with all kinds of scenarios. Some will even do that in my name. Things will happen that make no sense. It’s easy to let the fear-mongers suck you in. But put on the lens of faith so that you can see truth through the lies people tell.”

Secondly he says, “Fear not—be not afraid. Yes, there will be wars and rumors of war. There will be earthquakes and famine. That’s how it is here on planet earth. Don’t let these things scare you, and don’t believe those who tell you it’s God’s punishment or a sign of the end of times. Put on the lens of faith so that you can see truth through the tactics people use.”

A couple of months ago I saw a 2012 movie called “Seeking a Friend for the End of the World.” Perhaps capitalizing on the doomsday scenarios around the Mayan calendar ending on December 21^st (about a month away you know), the plot revolves around an insurance agent named Dodge (played by Steve Carell), who hears the announcement that changes life as he knows it—a massive asteroid is headed straight for earth. With the nations of the world agreeing there is no way to stop its trajectory, the world will end in exactly three weeks.

The moment he and his wife hear this news, she leaves him—she jumps out of the car without a word. With three weeks to live—three weeks before the end of the world—he tries to find some meaning. His marriage suddenly done, the world facing certain doom, Dodge flounders about in anxiety and despair. But he meets a new friend in the chaos, and genuine love is born. One of the most powerful and fascinating scenes in the movie is when the two of them, as they are driving along, see a line of people—hundreds of people. They stop the car to see what’s going on, they realize that these hundreds of people are in line to be baptized in the ocean by an unknown, but tender-eyed prophet. One by one, men, women and children of every race, color, and creed, are immersed in the ocean’s deep waters. Dodge and his friend instantly know what they must do. So into the waters they go.

When the world around us crumbles, something deep inside knows where to go. Though the earth shakes, the center still holds. That center, the one thing that never, ever changes, is the unchangeable, unshakable, tenacious love of God.

Jesus paints a scenario of doom and gloom—utter destruction of all his followers held dear. But let us not miss the final words of this doom and gloom scenario. “These are the beginning of birth pains,” he explains. Birth pains? Really? Some of you know a thing or two about birth pains. Who would ever sign up for birth pains? No one . . . except we know that birth pains are the prerequisite for new life, new hope, and new love. The destruction of everything held dear compared to birth pains? Yes, because out of destruction hope springs forth. When all is lost, love remains. That’s what Jesus wants us to see through these new, corrective lenses he offers.

You know what happened to the temple, right? It happened as Jesus said it would. It was destroyed in 70 AD, some 40 years after Jesus made this prediction. But you know what? Something new was emerging even as invading forces ravaged that temple . . . this new thing called Christianity was springing forth. A new way of living and being. A way that has given hope to untold millions of people. A way that has given hope to me, and maybe to you too. Be not deceived, child of God. Be not afraid. The world will change. Our temples will fall. But the love of God endures.

Is your world in turmoil? Is your temple under siege? Hold fast to the center, dear friend. Remember your baptism. Rest in the ultimate reality of the unchangeable, unshakable, tenacious love of God.