Jesus’ “Mini-Apocalypse”
If you think today’s political climate is a disaster, you should have seen first-century Judea. The Jewish people were split every which way. Nearly everyone agreed that living under the heel of their Roman occupying forces was not ideal. But that was the extent of their union. Everyone had a different solution. The extremists, known as the zealots, desired an armed rebellion. Others, including the community responsible for the Dead Sea Scrolls, thought it best to retreat to the wilderness and wait for God’s catastrophic intervention. And yet others, including many of the Pharisees and scribes, counseled patience and cooperation. If the Judeans would just settle down and not cause the Romans any trouble, maybe the Romans would take a more relaxed stance and let them live in peace.
Enter Jesus into the fray. He looks upon the temple, the
monument of Jewish faith, the glory of the Judean people. It is the center of
everyone’s attention. All the different factions are, in one way or another,
trying to save it. But not Jesus. He says, “The days will come when not one
stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” (Luke 21:6). He then
delivers what some readers have called a “mini-apocalypse.” Famine, plagues,
earthquakes, war. Trials and death penalties.
Jesus is right. He surveys the conflict and chaos that is fomenting in his own time, as various individuals and groups struggle for power and popular support, and he interprets accurately that it only has one outcome. This social climate is not constructive. It is the opposite. It is destructive. And sure enough, about forty years later, the temple falls. Isolated incidents of Jewish protest against Roman taxation and violence against Roman citizens escalate into a full-blown insurrection. The result is a brutal war with the Roman empire, which does not suffer protesters gladly. Its army eventually breaches Jerusalem and razes the temple to the ground.
How Jesus Responds
Jesus cuts a peculiar figure in today’s scripture. Everyone else is trying to stay in control. Everyone else is trying to save the Temple. In contrast, Jesus accepts that things are out of control, and he does not try to control them. It is a curious feature of Jesus’ ministry. He is always calling people—“Follow me”; inviting people—“Take up your mat and walk”; challenging people—“Sell your possessions and give the money to the poor”; asking people questions—“What do you want from me?”…but never does he use force on a person. Never does he control them. Read through any one of the gospels, and ask yourself, “Is Jesus ever in control of any person other than himself?” The cross stands ever as a reminder that Jesus relinquished the way of control.
The good news of Jesus is not control but care. The good news of Jesus is how he responds to a world that is out of control. He responds not by taking up the sword or seeking the popular vote, but by caring for widows and children, by loving his enemies and blessing those who curse him, by befriending strangers and making peace.
For Jesus, what happens to the Temple is out of his control, and quite frankly, has nothing to do with his good news. His good news is not about controlling others but caring for them. That is what his kingdom looks like.
Jesus in DC?
Many of us may have voted this past Tuesday. The airwaves have pounded into our heads that our votes on that one day are more important than anything else we might decide this year. But as I read today’s scripture, I wonder.
I imagine Jesus sitting on the steps of the Washington Monument or standing by the fence around the White House. I imagine him saying, not with revolutionary venom, but with thoughtful pause, “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” (21:6). I imagine a host of worried looks and furrowed brows, as we all agonize at the thought of our nation’s demise.
He continues, “There will be big men who rise up and say, ‘Join my cause. It is up to us. The time is now.’ They may even invoke my name. Do not follow them” (cf. 21:8).
He continues, “Terrible things may happen. Do not be terrified. Wherever you are, you are right where you are supposed to be. For there, as the world around you spins out of control, you have an opportunity to respond. You have an opportunity to bear witness to God’s care” (cf. 21:9-15).
Muting the Television to Talk
I remember visiting my grandpa in the nursing home where he lived the last years of his life. Walking through the nursing home’s entrance was like entering a different world. The rush of traffic and all the hubbub of life suddenly became muffled. In its place were the quiet sounds of a community in its last stage of life. There were the sounds of medical equipment beeping. There was the occasional cry from someone needing help. And from just about every room, there was the sound of a television. I could usually pick out the programming within a few seconds: Fox news or CNN. The animated news anchors and analysts could be heard almost shouting, inviting listeners into their righteous indignation and imploring them to take up one cause or another. Even back then, over a decade ago, the news proclaimed that the world was out of control, and it was the listener’s duty to help the right side take control by voting the right way and supporting the right big men and women.
We would enter my grandpa’s room. The news would be on, but he would mute it. As we were finding places to sit, he would insist that my brother and I take a chocolate from a welcome basket that he kept on his dresser. Then we would talk. About family and friends whom we cared about. About the flowers outside my grandpa’s window and the birds that daily visited his feeder. About our hopes and our fears. During our conversation, his nurse Reba would quietly slip into the room and tidy up. My grandpa might take notice and insist that she have a chocolate too. Sometimes, it would be time for a pill, or time for him to use the bathroom, and Reba would tenderly guide him through the necessary movements. All the while, during our close-knit gathering and Reba’s caregiving, the talking heads on television got red in the face. But they did not make a sound. Before we left, we would all hold hands and pray. If it were our last visit before leaving Kentucky, there would be tears.
Being Different
In today’s passage, Jesus tells his followers that their world will fall apart and it is out of their control. But he encourages them: “Do not be terrified….This will give you an opportunity to [bear witness]” (21:9, 12). That is not an easy word. The good news that I read is not that Christ is in control of our world. If anything, the world around him seems out of control, and he himself will become a victim of its power-hungry conflicts. The good news that I read is that Christ cares for us, for every single hair on our head (cf. 21:18), and that his care gives us the strength to show the same care to others.
The partisan struggles of our nation that clamor for our attention, lure us with the illusion of control and threaten to distract us from what really matters. We are in danger of worrying more about how we vote once every two years, than how we live every day. We are enticed to make a difference rather than to be different. But that is what Christ invites from us. To be different. To bear witness to a different way, a way of care rather than control, a way that includes blessing those who curse us, loving our enemies, lifting up children, caring for our widowed neighbors, befriending the poor and the homeless.
Remembering those sacred visits to my grandpa in the nursing home, I am struck by a contrast. All those televisions clamoring for control. And all those residents, with little to no control, living by the care of others and, in some cases, showing care themselves. I do not hear Christ on the televisions. But I see Christ in those rooms, slipping in quietly and tidying up, guiding the needful patiently through the rituals of life. I see Christ, frail and feeble in a hospital bed, offering visitors a chocolate, asking how they’re doing, holding hands and praying with them. I see Christ, dying and gaining life.
Prayer
Loving God,Whose care we know
In Christ crucified—
Help us to recognize in ourselves
The treacherous thought
Of controlling others
And to tune it out
…
Sensitize us to your care
That we might know its salvation
And might bear witness to it
Day by day.
In Christ, whose love endures: Amen.
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