A Fourth Church Sermon by Jocelyn C. Cadwallader

November 30, 2008 | 6:30 p.m. Vespers

What Time Is It?

Jocelyn C. Cadwallader
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 80:1–7, 17–19
1 Corinthians 1:3–9
Mark 13:24–37

Our passage this evening, as you will hear, really emphasizes keeping awake. It warns us to keep awake so as to not miss what’s ahead. Great things will happen, glory will come, and we certainly do not want to miss it.

I sometimes have an overactive imagination, so the images this brings to mind are a little outrageous. It triggers the image in my head of a whole people, staying awake, sleepless and weary, delirious with anticipation and even fear—fear of missing what might come, fear from paranoia that sets in when the human body doesn’t get enough sleep. It brings to my mind memories of this television show that I watched when I was living in Northern Ireland. It was on for one week only. It was a pilot for the idea of what could become a series and this particular show was called Shattered. It was a reality show and called by that name because all of the participants were to stay awake for a whole week straight, kind of like Big Brother meets caffeine and delirium. There was no sleeping allowed. Even if they closed their eyes for an extended period of time (meaning ten seconds), they would be disqualified from the game. And they had challenges. I remember one of the women had to lie in an easy chair with a giant teddy bear in the dark for thirty minutes while a lullaby played in the background. She made it through: she spent the time talking to the bear, telling it all about her upbringing and stories from her childhood. I watched as these individuals became shattered by their exhaustion, shattered from keeping awake, literally, to see what prize they might receive. So, I’m wondering, do you think this is the kind of “Keep awake” the Gospel writer is talking about? Let’s listen to the story in Mark 13:24–37 and see what might be meant by the warning to keep awake.

. . .

Keep awake. Keep awake. Are we to stay awake as the participants on Shattered? I’m not so sure. This particular text is known as the little apocalypse. I realize that might sound a bit grim. Darkening skies, falling stars, the powers of heaven shaking—these are the signs we are to look for, to keep awake for. Are we literally supposed to stay awake? To see if the moon darkens, if the stars fall at night, if the heavens shake? That seems like something I’d rather hide under the covers during, rather than keep awake for. Plus there are already so many things in this world that are on our minds to keep us awake. Waiting, staying awake to see all these seemingly scary signs take place to usher in the great hope and glory of God, seems like a hopeless and squandering use of our bodily energies. Don’t you think, Jesus, that if all that started to happen, even if we were in the deepest slumber, we’d wake up for that? I mean, I remember when the earthquake hit several months ago in the middle of Illinois and I was awakened by the subtle vibrations of the earth. Surely if the heavens are shaking, I’ll wake from sleeping. Surely the Gospel writer understands this, so perhaps thinking of this text literally isn’t exactly what Mark had in mind. It seems to me that we must reject the literalist notion that apocalyptic literature is about a future pie in the sky and instead see, as Kathleen Norris claims, it is a command to come to full attention in the here and now. It’s not about acting out of fear or anticipation of what may happen in the future; it’s about what needs attention now, what deserves attention now.

What time is it? It is almost 7:00 in the evening. The first night of Advent is just before us. We can see the stars. They’re not darkening yet, perhaps blocked by the snow, but not darkened. The day is coming to a close. Our bodies are relaxing from a long day of work or play. It is the Sunday of a holiday weekend. Our senses are softening, and as the day fades into night, we are trying to allow our eyes to ease and our minds to rest. Our bodies are growing weary, our eyelids heavy, our minds hoping for sweet dreams. And we’re listening for and reflecting on these words of scripture for us today.

Mark’s audience was not a stranger to great oppression. In the earlier part of this chapter, we see evidence of the horrible consequences of the Jewish revolt, which ended with the Romans starving out Jerusalem before breaking through and destroying the temple. In Mark’s view, their times had to be the last times. Their only hope was in the end. And this Gospel expresses for us how it feels that things are so bad, that the only hope is in the end of the world. As William Loader says of our text this evening, reflecting on the place where God’s people were in the text and on the message for us today, “The poetry of pain and despair, the fantasies of escape and resolution, challenge us to silence, to listening, to action.”

What time is it? It’s almost midnight. We are officially in a recession. A war rages on in many parts of the world, and our children, wives, husbands, and parents are some of the ones fighting in it. Our environment is in desperate need of care, attention, and repair. Our health care system seems to not care so much anymore. Tomorrow is World AIDS day, a day to call to attention the great need in our world for healing from this ravaging disease. Our education system is struggling to educate. Her mother is in the hospital. His child is in hospice care. I’m hungry in this food crisis, and you’re struggling with addiction and stress from being overworked at a job you might not have in a few weeks. Friends, at this time, at this midnight hour, our lives are raging on, and sometimes it’s hard to keep up the motivation to stay awake for what else is out there. Should we be looking for, waiting for the end of the world for our hope? Or is there something that desires our attention now, here in the present? Is there hope for us now, in this hour of midnight?

What time is it? The cock is crowing outside the door. The cat is stirring at the foot of the bed, and something feels a little different. Maybe it was something in a dream during the night or maybe it’s something stirring within the heart, leading you to sense this day might be different from the last. The Gospel writer draws our attention to a hope that is beyond our imagination. It is a hope that is strongly desired, that we are to keep alert for and keep watch for—not literally, but at the very least to seek that hope within our hearts that that hope restores us. This apocalyptic style of writing is one that can jolt the attention, jolt the heart into a different direction, to something more present, something more pressing. There are glimmers of hope as the stars continue to shine above our heads, as our families gather round in the hospital to pray, as teachers continue to teach, as a group gathers to practice and share in the AA process, as we share resources with one another and grant Christmas wishes for others whom we have never met, as a staff accepts a lower pay raise in the new year to ensure everyone’s sustained employment, as a new president is elected whose platform’s foundation is the belief in hope of better things yet to come. And at this hour, as the cock crows, we begin to feel it, listening to the awakening of the world outside, listening for the quiet, small voice of a child, newly born in a manger.

What time is it? The dawn is breaking. The light of the stars fades as a light much brighter fills the earth as the sun breaks the horizon. The word apocalypse simply means to reveal, to uncover. So, yes, in this little apocalypse we see as the light begins to reveal the world, uncovering that which was covered the night before. The night before we were weary, heavy-laden with burden and sorrow. But, now the light reveals to us that that day has passed and another day is ahead. There is hope in this new day. And if we continue this pattern, there is hope for tomorrow as well. And it’s not just the sleep. Loader continues, “Just having a ‘good sleep’, a sleep of ‘good’—is good and harmless and may have many other marketable qualities like being peaceful and stress free . . . but it has little to do with the engaged alertness which recognizes the new leaves, feels the shaking, and sees what the powers of this world are doing.” It has more to do with the hope that we find in this day, in the gifts that are promised to us for today, not just those to come.

Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, reminds us that we are enriched by this God that will come to us on a cloud. Enriched? Yes, enriched, now, by this God. We, like the Apostle Paul, may give thanks to God because of the grace of God that has been given to us in Christ Jesus, for in every way we have been enriched in God, in speech and knowledge of every kind so that we might not lack in spiritual gifts as we wait.

Is there something great ahead or is there something great to experience right now? Perhaps the answer is both. But in this time, as the morning dawns, as another cycle of the day begins again, as we wait for what may come in the future, we wait in hope, not sorrow nor hope for relief from what oppression plagues us today. We wait in the hope that enriches us, even in the midst of our hardships, hope in the faithfulness of God who is with us, Emmanuel. Amen.