The Labor of Hope

 Mark 13:1-8

November 14, 2021

 

            I was 17 when my first nephew, Benjamin, was born. My sister came home from Greece to Nashville to have the baby. My brother-in-law, Nikos, who worked for Olympic Airlines, came to Nashville in the last two weeks of Jill’s pregnancy. Nikos was able to be here and with Jill for the birth, but Jill had to begin her birthing classes before he arrived. My mom went with her to the classes as her coach just in case the baby arrived before Nikos did.

            Mom and Jill invited me to come to class with them one week, and I eagerly agreed. I thought it would be like what I had seen on television: a group of parents-to-be sitting on pillows on the floor, practicing breathing techniques and holding baby dolls that were supposed to simulate newborns. But as it turned out, the night I attended class was movie night. And we aren’t talking Disney films either. This was the night when the parents watch a film that showed, up close and personal, women giving birth. I don’t know exactly what my face must have looked like while we were watching the film, but I suspect that my eyes got big, and my face grew quite pale.

            There were two women featured: one who cried and moaned and groaned and yelled, and the other who was very calm and just breathed in short, calm squeaks. The irony was that at the end of the movie, they interviewed both women about the experience of giving birth. The woman who groaned and moaned exclaimed with joy that she would do it again as soon as possible. The woman who was calm and quiet and throughout the whole experience said she was not doing this again, no way, no how.

            What I learned that night and later on when I had my own babies is that there is a reason birth is called labor. It is labor. It remains the hardest work that I have ever done, and I have had a variety of jobs in my lifetime. Giving birth is labor, however that birth happens, and the metaphor of giving birth and the hard work of labor is employed several times in scripture. I think of Paul’s words in Romans 8 – “we know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now.” And the subject of birth comes up in our gospel reading this morning, We read of birth pangs in the last verse of our passage from Mark’s gospel.

            Jesus has been teaching in the temple. He and the disciples are leaving that holy place and one of his disciples – we don’t know which one – looks back at the gleaming stones of the temple building and says,
            “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!”

            Perhaps the disciple expected Jesus to agree with him about the size of the stones or make a comment about the holiness of the place where observant Jews were taught and believed God resided. But if that was the kind of response the disciple expected, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, Jesus said,
            “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

            Wait. What?

            That would be like those of us who were at church yesterday, working in the courtyard with RFD or in Nall Hall with SCHRA and the other community resource agencies, and someone were to look up at the church and say,

            “What a beautiful church this is. Look at these bricks. Look at these windows and the steeple.”

            And someone else says in reply,

            “Yeah, but it will all be rubble one day.”

            That would be an awful and shocking thing to hear. It would feel even worse to think about. None of us want to contemplate a future where our beloved buildings, our sacred spaces, such as this beautiful sanctuary, are not. But Jesus pushes the disciples to do just that.

            After Jesus says this, he and the disciples walk away from the temple and go to the Mount of Olives. What I learned from commentaries this week was that the Mount of Olives was the place where generations of Jewish people had been buried. It was the hallowed ground where Jewish people were laid to rest after lives that were blessedly long or achingly short. And on this sacred spot, Peter, James, John, and Andrew had a private word with Jesus. They wanted clarification on what he had said about the temple. They asked him about when this destruction of the temple would happen, because if the temple were truly destroyed, it would not only be a demolition of a building but a sign of the end times. It would be a sign of the apocalypse, the end of the world as they knew it.

            Again, Jesus does not give them the answer they were looking for. He does not confess that he was exaggerating – which I suspect they might have hoped for. He doesn’t offer any dates or lay out a timeline for the end of the world, so that they can make plans. Instead, he warns them to beware those who might lead them astray.

            “Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” 

            They wanted Jesus to tell them about the end, to give them specifics, dates, time, and signs about when the end of the world will come. But Jesus turned this on its head and said that anything that might be taken for a sign is really just the beginning. It might look like the end, false prophets will say it is the end, but truly it is the beginning of the birth pangs. It is the beginning of the labor of creation. It is the labor of the new thing God is doing in

their midst.

            If you think about it, this should not have surprised them. They have been told numerous times, Peter himself confessed it, that Jesus was the Son of God, the incarnate God. Jesus was the Messiah in the flesh and in the spirit. From his first days of preaching, teaching, exorcising, healing, Jesus has been telling them that the kingdom of God has drawn near, that it was in their midst, in their presence, in their peripheral vision, if not glaringly in their line of sight. God was and is doing a new thing, Jesus proclaimed, and that new thing was a new creation and creation required labor.

            Notice that Jesus did not say, in any way, that the labor of creation would be without pain or suffering or struggle. There would be wars. There would be rumors of wars. There would be earthquakes and famines and hardship and pain. And during these times when everything will seem to be falling apart, there would be people who would try to lead them astray. There were snake oil salesmen then just as there are now: people who promise miracles, safety, security, deliverance, with no ability to follow through on any of it. But don’t fall for it, Jesus warned them. What looks like the end is really just the beginning.

            Notice that Jesus did not assure them that they would be safe. Jesus did not assure them that they would remain above the struggle and suffering of life. He gave them no reassurances that they would be immune to the struggles. He only told them that this was the beginning of the birth pangs. This was the beginning of God’s labor to bring about the new creation, the new thing, the kingdom, and the kin-dom in their midst. There is a reason giving birth is called labor. Bringing new life, new creation, into the world is work. There is a reason giving birth is called labor.

            The disciples surely had many more questions to ask, but I suspect that they may have fallen along the lines of these: but what do we do with all of this? How do we live knowing what lies ahead and also not knowing what lies ahead? Where do we go from here?

            Those may be our questions as well. The temple was destroyed. Mark may have known that when he wrote his gospel. Those large stones were brought down, and that sacred place was leveled. We continue to live under the threat of wars and rumors of wars. Earthquakes and famine and false prophets have all come to pass, and its likely there will be more of them in the future. Will the birth pangs ever cease? Will the labor of creation ever be complete?

            I don’t know. Maybe not in my lifetime or in yours. Maybe not in the lifetime of the next generation. So, what do we do? How do we hold on? We hope.

            No, that’s not the most satisfying of answers. It is not definitive. It does not erase suffering. But just as giving birth is labor, so is hope. We are called to the labor of hope. To hope and trust in God’s promises even when everything seems to be crashing down around us. We are called to the labor of hope. Preacher and professor, David Lose, once said that there is a difference between hope and optimism. Optimism is the belief that everything is going to be okay. Hope is the recognition that things may just be awful, but God was there in the beginning, God is with us in the present, in the midst of the awful, and God is with us in the future. God is with us, so in the end all will be well.

            We are called to the labor of hope, and because of this call and our labor, we find the courage to be faithful, the strength to proclaim the gospel, the passion to work for peace and justice, and the will to keep going, to keep following, to keep walking, day after day, one foot after another. We are called to the labor of hope, and it is labor, but God is with us, always, in the suffering and in the joy, God is with us. And God is doing a new thing, God is bringing forth creation. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs. This is but the beginning.

            Let all of God’s hopeful children say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.