Waiting on Tiptoe
November 30, 2008
Rev. Susan Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 64:1-8, Mark 13:24-37
Advent…this peculiar season. It was the first liturgical season I was ever aware of – in my church growing up, we lit the advent candles, the colors changed to purple, and I knew we were in a countdown toward Christmas, even when I didn’t have one of those nifty calendars with a door for every day, and a picture behind every door. Long before I had ever heard of Lent, or Pentecost, Epiphany or certainly Ordinary Time, I was aware of Advent. For some of us, these liturgical seasons mark the turning of the year with as much familiarity and predictability as the changing colors of the leaves, the chill in the air, the smell of fires, the dusting, and later, piling of snow, the ice, the bone-chilling cold that eventually yields to thawing, and balmy breezes, the damp greenness of early spring, and the rich blooms of later spring and the summer – truly hot at times, even in Wisconsin – and the heat producing all those flowers: Echinacea, Rudbeckia, lavender, zinnias, hydrangeas, and eventually, chrysanthemums as the leaves begin to change, and we flirt again with those early snowfalls. The liturgical year, too, has its familiar turns…highs, lows and in-betweens – the waiting seasons of purple and blue, the holidays that show up in white, except for the red of Pentecost, and then the green that marks most of the year as ordinary time.
Advent marks the beginning of the year…a beginning that is spent, appropriately, I think, in waiting. But this waiting has a different feel than Lent – and part of the difference lies in its different relationship to the culture. For during Lent, which usually begins in late February and continues for seven weeks until Easter, there is no cultural component. But during Advent, the culture is also waiting, and indeed waiting for Christmas. But the culture’s approach is quite different than the church’s, which presents some challenges for us. What’s going on in the culture is enough like what we’re doing in church for it to seem the same…but it’s different enough to highlight the questions that seem to be at the heart of Mark’s Gospel, which we are beginning to read today, and which will be the primary Gospel over the next year. Mark’s is the earliest of the four Gospels, and is also the shortest. If you have never read it, try to find the time to read it all in one sitting. In one of my Bibles, it is about 20 pages – doable for a Sunday afternoon. About 5 years ago, Carl and I saw an actor perform it from memory as a one-act, one-man performance, about 70 minutes long.
Mark’s Gospel was likely written between 66 and 70 AD, already about 40 years after the death of Jesus. Jerusalem had continued under Roman rule, but during 66-70, there was a Jewish uprising which became known as the Roman-Judean war. In 70, Rome finally triumphed over the Jews, recaptured Jerusalem, and destroyed the Temple. Mark’s Gospel was probably written during the war, but before the destruction of the Temple. Mark’s purpose in writing the Gospel was to draw distinctions between two ways of living in order to remind readers in his own time of the non-violent teachings of Jesus. Mark’s Gospel will continually contrast the way of God with the way of the world, He contrasts the fear of the disciples with the hope embodied in Jesus. and is always presenting a choice between the following the self-centered fear-based way of the world, or following the hope based, other-centered way of God. He reminds the disciples that since Jesus chose not to use force to establish his rule, they shouldn’t join in the rebel’s revolt either. He is reminding the early believers that Jesus taught non-violence, and that violence by the oppressed was no more God’s way than the violence by the oppressor. That is, Jewish liberation violence was no more virtuous than Roman violence. While this particular chapter seems similar to the apocalyptic passages we have read recently in Matthew, there are significant differences.
One difference is the absence of judgment – in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus the Human one, also called the Son of Man, comes to redeem the world, to reveal the beginning of the new age, the dawning of the messianic era that is beginning with his own embrace of non-violence. This is the beginning of God’s rule emerging on earth. Another difference is that this passage is inconclusive – it doesn’t really wrap up. It’s more the beginning of the new age than the end of the world. Mark describes the coming of the Son of Man, and his gathering of the followers, but there is no end to the story. One interpretation of this end-time narrative is that it has already begun, that Christ’s rule began during the ministry of Jesus, and continues to emerge, little bit by little bit, as we each embrace the way of life that Jesus revealed..
I have been reading Ched Myers’ comprehensive analysis of Mark, Binding the Strong Man which has just been released in a new, 20th anniversary edition. His book, subtitled A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus has been acclaimed as “…quite simply, the most important commentary on a book of Scripture since Barth’s Romans.” Myers approach is a socio-literary one – he looks both at the context of the story and the way the story is told. Myers reminds his readers, as he is beginning his analysis of the literary form of Mark, that “…antiquity…did not share our (admittedly ideological) distinctions between ‘fact’ and ‘fiction,’ between ‘history’ and ‘story.’” It is essential for us to remember this as we read the Bible – and if we consider our own lives as an example that we are more familiar with, we can understand this better. What historically happens in our lives is not as important as the story we tell ourselves about what happens. For example, if we lost a job some years ago, is the way we remember the story that we experienced a job loss during an economic downturn? Or is our version of this that once the layoff occurred, we didn’t wait to be called back but quickly made a career change? Both may be true, but in one version we are the victim, in the other version, we transcend the circumstances to make a new way. While the facts are important, the impact in our life comes from the story we tell ourselves and others about it. So analyzing the way the story is told is as least as important as knowing what facts produced it.
As we read the Bible, we must take context seriously. In a passage such as today’s Gospel reading, there are three contexts with which we must contend: the context within which Jesus was speaking, the context within which Mark was writing, and our own context.
In the context of Jesus, this episode comes in his last week. He has come to Jerusalem, to face the powers of Rome and those who are complicit with Rome, and he knows that the confrontation will likely lead to his death. He reminds the disciples to see, to notice what’s going on around them, to stay alert, to stay awake. He is aware that his ministry is entering a critical and dangerous period when the disciples will need to be alert and aware of what is happening around them.
In the context of Mark, he sees that the temple system of Jerusalem may be destroyed in the war with Rome and he is showing people that even if the temple is destroyed, the teachings of Jesus are that God is still with us. He is reminding his contemporaries that in times of war, it is hard to be discerning, and harder to hold fast to nonviolence. He is suggesting in this episode that the worst can happen, but life goes on. And he is warning them not to believe those who say that what is happening portends the end of the world, because Jesus assured them that no one knows the signs for that.
We see some of the same reminders in the passage from Isaiah that was written near the end of the exile in Babylon several hundred years before Jesus. The people in Isaiah’s time were also waiting – waiting to return from exile, and although the prophet articulates the anger and impatience of the people, he also affirms their ultimate trust in God, and their sense that in good times and bad, they belong to God.
In our own context, we certainly know what waiting in hope or fear, with patience or impatience, is like. These days, it seems everyone is waiting one way or another – often impatiently: will the financial system collapse? Will the new administration provide wise solutions to the economic challenges, and the international challenges in our world? Will the U.S. successfully withdraw from the war in Iraq? Will a health care solution be proposed? Will terrorists infiltrate New York City? Will India and Pakistan end up at war? Mark’s counsel to the people of his own time would seem to remind us that we can’t expect a change in the government to make fundamental change, but that we should be alert, and notice what’s happening in the world, we should keep ourselves awake to the possibilities, and be aware and discerning. Mark’s counsel to us would likely be that even if the worst happens, it’s not the end.
Myers’ analysis also takes the literary dimensions – the way the story is told – seriously. He reminds us that when Mark writes that Jesus said, “This generation shall not pass away until all these things have taken place…” it was already a generation after the crucifixion of Jesus. He reminds us that apocalyptic literature is not about the end of the world itself, but about the ordering of power within the world. He reminds us that the nonviolent teachings of Jesus were not tied to what Myers called “the tyranny of immediate results.”
In the life of Jesus, following God led to the cross. In the time of Mark, not joining the rebellion might lead to the destruction of the Temple. But beyond those immediate results were transformation – beyond the crucifixion lay the transformation of the disciples from frightened failed followers to bold believers. Beyond the destruction of the temple lay the emergence of Rabbinic Judaism, no longer tied to the economic exploitation of the temple financial system.
Part of the message of Christmas is that God is not dependent upon the events of history – God can break into the world in new and surprising ways, as he did by coming among us as one of us, God coming among humans as the Human One, the Son of Man.
Part of our waiting at Advent is waiting with the knowledge that while God works in the world, and God works through us, God is also able to surprise us, and take initiative in the world. Our own visions don’t define the range of what can happen. And that when people are able to believe in hope, and to begin to see the world that Jesus revealed, God is able to work transformation – in people, in events, and in the way we tell our stories. So we are waiting on tiptoe, waiting in hope that God will enter our lives, waiting in hope that we be open to possibilities and new visions that allow us to believe in hope.
Mark’s advice can remind us to be aware in the present moment, be alert to the possibilities – in ourselves, in our relationships, in our communities, and in the systems – and to notice the signs of change. We also are reminded to keep ourselves awake – to notice the difference between the hopes of God and the fears of this world, and to cast our lot with hope.
But our waiting isn’t passive – we are actively waiting, preparing, and being alert. If we are following God’s way in the world, we won’t be getting ready for Christmas by waiting in line for the biggest bargains. We prepare the way by being aware, by being present to each moment, to God’s possibilities, and by awake to what God might be preparing in us as well. Amen.
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 64:1-8, Mark 13:24-37
Advent…this peculiar season. It was the first liturgical season I was ever aware of – in my church growing up, we lit the advent candles, the colors changed to purple, and I knew we were in a countdown toward Christmas, even when I didn’t have one of those nifty calendars with a door for every day, and a picture behind every door. Long before I had ever heard of Lent, or Pentecost, Epiphany or certainly Ordinary Time, I was aware of Advent. For some of us, these liturgical seasons mark the turning of the year with as much familiarity and predictability as the changing colors of the leaves, the chill in the air, the smell of fires, the dusting, and later, piling of snow, the ice, the bone-chilling cold that eventually yields to thawing, and balmy breezes, the damp greenness of early spring, and the rich blooms of later spring and the summer – truly hot at times, even in Wisconsin – and the heat producing all those flowers: Echinacea, Rudbeckia, lavender, zinnias, hydrangeas, and eventually, chrysanthemums as the leaves begin to change, and we flirt again with those early snowfalls. The liturgical year, too, has its familiar turns…highs, lows and in-betweens – the waiting seasons of purple and blue, the holidays that show up in white, except for the red of Pentecost, and then the green that marks most of the year as ordinary time.
Advent marks the beginning of the year…a beginning that is spent, appropriately, I think, in waiting. But this waiting has a different feel than Lent – and part of the difference lies in its different relationship to the culture. For during Lent, which usually begins in late February and continues for seven weeks until Easter, there is no cultural component. But during Advent, the culture is also waiting, and indeed waiting for Christmas. But the culture’s approach is quite different than the church’s, which presents some challenges for us. What’s going on in the culture is enough like what we’re doing in church for it to seem the same…but it’s different enough to highlight the questions that seem to be at the heart of Mark’s Gospel, which we are beginning to read today, and which will be the primary Gospel over the next year. Mark’s is the earliest of the four Gospels, and is also the shortest. If you have never read it, try to find the time to read it all in one sitting. In one of my Bibles, it is about 20 pages – doable for a Sunday afternoon. About 5 years ago, Carl and I saw an actor perform it from memory as a one-act, one-man performance, about 70 minutes long.
Mark’s Gospel was likely written between 66 and 70 AD, already about 40 years after the death of Jesus. Jerusalem had continued under Roman rule, but during 66-70, there was a Jewish uprising which became known as the Roman-Judean war. In 70, Rome finally triumphed over the Jews, recaptured Jerusalem, and destroyed the Temple. Mark’s Gospel was probably written during the war, but before the destruction of the Temple. Mark’s purpose in writing the Gospel was to draw distinctions between two ways of living in order to remind readers in his own time of the non-violent teachings of Jesus. Mark’s Gospel will continually contrast the way of God with the way of the world, He contrasts the fear of the disciples with the hope embodied in Jesus. and is always presenting a choice between the following the self-centered fear-based way of the world, or following the hope based, other-centered way of God. He reminds the disciples that since Jesus chose not to use force to establish his rule, they shouldn’t join in the rebel’s revolt either. He is reminding the early believers that Jesus taught non-violence, and that violence by the oppressed was no more God’s way than the violence by the oppressor. That is, Jewish liberation violence was no more virtuous than Roman violence. While this particular chapter seems similar to the apocalyptic passages we have read recently in Matthew, there are significant differences.
One difference is the absence of judgment – in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus the Human one, also called the Son of Man, comes to redeem the world, to reveal the beginning of the new age, the dawning of the messianic era that is beginning with his own embrace of non-violence. This is the beginning of God’s rule emerging on earth. Another difference is that this passage is inconclusive – it doesn’t really wrap up. It’s more the beginning of the new age than the end of the world. Mark describes the coming of the Son of Man, and his gathering of the followers, but there is no end to the story. One interpretation of this end-time narrative is that it has already begun, that Christ’s rule began during the ministry of Jesus, and continues to emerge, little bit by little bit, as we each embrace the way of life that Jesus revealed..
I have been reading Ched Myers’ comprehensive analysis of Mark, Binding the Strong Man which has just been released in a new, 20th anniversary edition. His book, subtitled A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus has been acclaimed as “…quite simply, the most important commentary on a book of Scripture since Barth’s Romans.” Myers approach is a socio-literary one – he looks both at the context of the story and the way the story is told. Myers reminds his readers, as he is beginning his analysis of the literary form of Mark, that “…antiquity…did not share our (admittedly ideological) distinctions between ‘fact’ and ‘fiction,’ between ‘history’ and ‘story.’” It is essential for us to remember this as we read the Bible – and if we consider our own lives as an example that we are more familiar with, we can understand this better. What historically happens in our lives is not as important as the story we tell ourselves about what happens. For example, if we lost a job some years ago, is the way we remember the story that we experienced a job loss during an economic downturn? Or is our version of this that once the layoff occurred, we didn’t wait to be called back but quickly made a career change? Both may be true, but in one version we are the victim, in the other version, we transcend the circumstances to make a new way. While the facts are important, the impact in our life comes from the story we tell ourselves and others about it. So analyzing the way the story is told is as least as important as knowing what facts produced it.
As we read the Bible, we must take context seriously. In a passage such as today’s Gospel reading, there are three contexts with which we must contend: the context within which Jesus was speaking, the context within which Mark was writing, and our own context.
In the context of Jesus, this episode comes in his last week. He has come to Jerusalem, to face the powers of Rome and those who are complicit with Rome, and he knows that the confrontation will likely lead to his death. He reminds the disciples to see, to notice what’s going on around them, to stay alert, to stay awake. He is aware that his ministry is entering a critical and dangerous period when the disciples will need to be alert and aware of what is happening around them.
In the context of Mark, he sees that the temple system of Jerusalem may be destroyed in the war with Rome and he is showing people that even if the temple is destroyed, the teachings of Jesus are that God is still with us. He is reminding his contemporaries that in times of war, it is hard to be discerning, and harder to hold fast to nonviolence. He is suggesting in this episode that the worst can happen, but life goes on. And he is warning them not to believe those who say that what is happening portends the end of the world, because Jesus assured them that no one knows the signs for that.
We see some of the same reminders in the passage from Isaiah that was written near the end of the exile in Babylon several hundred years before Jesus. The people in Isaiah’s time were also waiting – waiting to return from exile, and although the prophet articulates the anger and impatience of the people, he also affirms their ultimate trust in God, and their sense that in good times and bad, they belong to God.
In our own context, we certainly know what waiting in hope or fear, with patience or impatience, is like. These days, it seems everyone is waiting one way or another – often impatiently: will the financial system collapse? Will the new administration provide wise solutions to the economic challenges, and the international challenges in our world? Will the U.S. successfully withdraw from the war in Iraq? Will a health care solution be proposed? Will terrorists infiltrate New York City? Will India and Pakistan end up at war? Mark’s counsel to the people of his own time would seem to remind us that we can’t expect a change in the government to make fundamental change, but that we should be alert, and notice what’s happening in the world, we should keep ourselves awake to the possibilities, and be aware and discerning. Mark’s counsel to us would likely be that even if the worst happens, it’s not the end.
Myers’ analysis also takes the literary dimensions – the way the story is told – seriously. He reminds us that when Mark writes that Jesus said, “This generation shall not pass away until all these things have taken place…” it was already a generation after the crucifixion of Jesus. He reminds us that apocalyptic literature is not about the end of the world itself, but about the ordering of power within the world. He reminds us that the nonviolent teachings of Jesus were not tied to what Myers called “the tyranny of immediate results.”
In the life of Jesus, following God led to the cross. In the time of Mark, not joining the rebellion might lead to the destruction of the Temple. But beyond those immediate results were transformation – beyond the crucifixion lay the transformation of the disciples from frightened failed followers to bold believers. Beyond the destruction of the temple lay the emergence of Rabbinic Judaism, no longer tied to the economic exploitation of the temple financial system.
Part of the message of Christmas is that God is not dependent upon the events of history – God can break into the world in new and surprising ways, as he did by coming among us as one of us, God coming among humans as the Human One, the Son of Man.
Part of our waiting at Advent is waiting with the knowledge that while God works in the world, and God works through us, God is also able to surprise us, and take initiative in the world. Our own visions don’t define the range of what can happen. And that when people are able to believe in hope, and to begin to see the world that Jesus revealed, God is able to work transformation – in people, in events, and in the way we tell our stories. So we are waiting on tiptoe, waiting in hope that God will enter our lives, waiting in hope that we be open to possibilities and new visions that allow us to believe in hope.
Mark’s advice can remind us to be aware in the present moment, be alert to the possibilities – in ourselves, in our relationships, in our communities, and in the systems – and to notice the signs of change. We also are reminded to keep ourselves awake – to notice the difference between the hopes of God and the fears of this world, and to cast our lot with hope.
But our waiting isn’t passive – we are actively waiting, preparing, and being alert. If we are following God’s way in the world, we won’t be getting ready for Christmas by waiting in line for the biggest bargains. We prepare the way by being aware, by being present to each moment, to God’s possibilities, and by awake to what God might be preparing in us as well. Amen.