Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost
November 16, 2025

Sermon

Camille Cook Howe
Pastor

Isaiah 65:17–25
Luke 21:5–19    

One of the ancient monastic traditions in the Christian church is the Rule of St. Benedict, which was written around 529 AD. One of the central commands for the monks to live by was “to keep death daily before your eyes.” It is a sober way to live one’s life, but the teachings from Jesus often draw us to think about the end: the end of his life, the end of our lives, and the end of the world. Jesus, in this apocalyptic text from Luke’s Gospel, is encouraging the listener to “keep death daily before your eyes.” Jesus tells them there will be wars and famines and disasters and trials and tribulations, and not one stone will be left on top of another. And the very human response to listening to this sermon from Jesus was to ask, “When exactly is that all going to happen?” Jesus is asking them to prepare spiritually for the days that are ahead of them, and they rush to the practical details: “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?”

There could be two ways to read this passage of scripture. One is to hear this as a literal prediction as to events that will unfold and culminate into one epic end of the world, an apocalyptic moment in history. The other is to hear these texts as an explanation of how to be oriented though all the calamites and disasters experienced by humans throughout the generations. Different branches of Christianity tend to adopt one or the other as their preferred interpretation. But what if neither interpretation is wrong and both of these ways of reading the text and hearing the teachings could coexist and ultimately prove to be true? Could we handle two different readings of the same text simultaneously?

Now I know that is not how we prefer to interpret scripture. We would much rather just have one clear teaching to stick in our back pocket for the week ahead. But with the apocalyptic texts, it is hard to really know how we are supposed to receive them and interpret them two thousand years after the words were spoken.

Last week I was asked again if I was going to support the Cubs or the White Sox. The person asking the question then told me that since I was not from Chicago, I could actually cheer for both teams. But then the next day he emailed me and said that he had done some research. In fact, the Chicago Baseball Guidebook says that newcomers can only be neutral on a team for one year, at which point you must pick a side!

With this scripture, I wonder if we have to pick a side or if this genre requires us to have a more complex theology that could make space for both interpretations. Does it mean that the things happening around us right now — the wars, the disasters, and the trials and sufferings — are all being redeemed by God? Or does it mean that someday wars and disasters and trials and sufferings will be redeemed by God? I don’t want to pick a side, because I believe that both can be true — and I think it would be hard not to fall into despair if it had to be just one or the other.

Hebrew Bible scholar Walter Brueggemann writes, “All this talk in the Bible about the end-time is intellectually difficult and pastorally problematic.” The apocalyptic texts are ultimately supposed to be messages of hope, but if you focus on the long list of terrifying things — wars, earthquakes, famines, plagues, and the like — then it is hard to hear the hope. The list of horrible events makes us want to create a bunker and stockpile canned goods. I remember someone told me once when the end times come, I will need to have two things ready to go: a motorcycle and a lot of cash! That is not what I hear Jesus saying in this text. I hear Jesus telling the people of God that all they need, no matter what they will face in their lives, is strong faith and steady hope.

The line from a song came to my mind as I was thinking about this weighty text: “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.” Some of you will probably already be able to name that tune, but I could not place it, so I looked it up. “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.” It is from the Christmas carol “O Holy Night.”“Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared, and the spirit felt its worth.” Isn’t it true that Jesus offered the people a thrill of hope for their individual journeys right then and there but that Jesus also offered ultimate and final hope so the weary world could rejoice? Jesus coming into the world meant we did not have to wait for the end times to find hope and comfort and strength. And Jesus coming into the world offered the ultimate salvation and redemption for all of creation on the last day. Can we live in the tension of those two interpretations being possible and perhaps even coexisting?

When I looked up “O Holy Night,” then of course I had to listen to it. And once you start listening to Christmas music, it is a slippery slope. And so it happened, not with great intentionality but accidentally when trying to get my head around the apocalyptic text from Luke’s Gospel, suddenly Christmas crept in without my permission. Now I am known for programming a seasonally inappropriate hymn from time to time, like “Joy to the World” in July or “O Come, All Ye Faithful” in September, because I love them but also because sometimes we need the startling reminder that God can break in any time and any place. The thrill of hope comes to us in unexpected ways to lift weary hearts and souls once again.

“O Holy Night” was written first as a poem on December 3, 1847. The French poet Placide Cappeau was asked by a local priest to write something that could be shared at the Christmas service. Cappeau wrote the poem on train ride to Paris while he was on a business trip. It was then given to Adolphe Adam, who wrote the music, and the song was performed a few weeks later on Christmas Eve and became immediately popular. Fast forward to Christmas Eve 1906, and the very first AM radio program was broadcast. It is reported that sailors were the first to tune in and hear the program. And the very first song sent out on the radio waves was “O Holy Night!” And so the thrill of hope breaks into the world again in new and surprising ways.

The apocalyptic reality is that at any time and all the time Jesus can enter the scene, creating new life and fresh hope and the weary world rejoices. We rejoice because of what God has done and what God is doing. Our theology is big enough to believe God is above and beyond this life and that God is truly in the midst of this life with us as well.

Paul in the letter to the Romans writes, “What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

That is the promise we have been given for whatever you face today or will face in the days to come — neither things present nor things to come will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Will illness, depression, grief, loneliness, school pressures, relationship troubles, family dramas, work stresses, financial strains, trials and tribulations, disasters and devastations — will anything be able to separate us from the love of God? The gospel says not now and not ever!

This is the theological treaty made real for us in the person and the witness of Jesus Christ. Jesus did not deny the reality of suffering. Jesus did not avoid suffering for his own journey. Jesus proved that through it all God’s love would endure. For God so loved the world — that was true and is true and shall be true forevermore.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church