Stories that apocalyptic – a word that literally means revealing.
The apocalypse is not some terrifying spectrum that culture suggests – it’s the literal unveiling of what is real.
And sometimes, that unveiling – that revelation – encourages us to ask some questions that may seem unusual.
Firstly, in the prophet Isaiah, we’re reminded to NOT look to the past…
“For I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.”
…and then the whole passage speaks with images that evoke the past – the Eden experience and early families of the faith.
For a people coming out of exile, these images invited them to move out of their trauma response, returning into one of trusting. One of faith.
Yet – it sounds… too good to be true. A little too idyllic. Too dream-like.
And – to be frank – a bit awkward. There are so many questions!
Perhaps coming out of that confusion is as simple as reframing the context: the question many hearing this would ask may be “how do I forget the past?” and instead, for people of faith, it could be adjusted to be “how can I look to the future?”
The message of Good News from God is not about whether the past is remembered or forgotten, it’s about keeping a focus on a new beginning – informed by the lessons of the past – and implemented in ways that build up the kingdom to be a place of peaceful presence and coexistance.
The Wolf and Lamb forging a new relationship of tolerance and sharing of resources; the newly vegetarian lion adapting to allow for the fullness of life of others. There’s a lot of stunning metaphor in the imagery of this glorious new creation.
And, we recognise – a lot of need for trust and hope and peace.
Our reading from the Epistle likewise takes us into slightly head-scratching territory. It’s one of those scriptures that can be used in seemingly unChristian ways – “do not be idle” and “do things exactly as we tell you” – hmm.
The statement “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat” really seems an incongruous directive, when we are thinking about the God of grace –
The God who provided manna to the community so that they would have bread for their journey.
The one who, through the prophets instructed people to feed the hungry as a means of loosing the chains of injustice and setting the oppressed free…
the God in Christ who fed the multitude with physical bread and fish – and ensured there were leftovers for any who would hunger the next day.
The Christ who declared “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will not hunger...”
There’s a LOT of passages where God specifically tells us to provide food.
So… as we read what Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, we can’t help but admit that his commentary today raises questions.
And again, perhaps the unlikely question is the one to best help us understand.:
Rather than saying “WHAT was Paul thinking?!”
Perhaps we need to hear it as “What was the community hearing?”
There’s a slight nuance – easily overlooked - that invites us to consider how the message of idleness was received.
Back in the Greek, the word for idle doesn’t mean unable to work, or lazy; it means the intentionally unruly.
In this letter, It is not so much that believers had given up on their work to do nothing; rather, Paul is calling out the folks who had given up on work to make trouble.
The community had a number folks who, convinced of the end times, were honouring themselves at the expense of others – rather than honouring God with the work they had been called to do.
The same work we are all called to do: to live faithfully, in service to one another. Sharing of our abundance, that we might all have the abundant life that God promises. In this, Paul reminds us to “not be weary of doing what is right.”
Our Gospel again brings us to the edge of the apocalypse! That unveiled awareness of inevitable change…
Jesus speaks first about the destruction of the Temple – which is a bit weird, given that they were IN the temple at the time.
And it was GLORIOUS. A phenomenal structure that had been constructed to intimidate and overwhelm all who saw it – done so intentionally by its benefactor, the insecure and power-hungry Herod.
Even now, Architectural historians recognise Herod’s skill as a builder because of the Temple – so for Jesus to speak of its ultimate destruction would normally elicit a question of “HOW could THAT happen?”
But instead, his friends ask:
When?
Because they don’t need to know how. They understand that while that may be interesting, it’s not significant to their ministry.
Because they believe.
If Jesus says it will come down; it will. The details are just details.
But (understandably), they are naturally curious to know the timing.
And – the circumstances. What will be the signs?
Here, they’re not asking about foundational cracks or structural faults…
They know that a fallen Temple suggests a drastic shift in the community – and that is what they want to be ready for.
Perhaps this is why Jesus does not articulate a timeline that can be measured by a calendar, but rather a contextual change that requires attention to the community.
And goes on to provide the assurance and comfort to his followers that God will provide what they need – along with the gentle nudge of a reminder that we are all to be living in the present, not fearing the future.
For the pressure to prepare ahead comes from a fear of not being able to meet the moment.
Instead, the disciples (ourselves included) are promised that God’s provision will give them whatever defense they need in their own experience of turmoil; and that our endurance in the faith is lifted up as virtue.
What a gorgeous reminder then, for all of us – as we live in a time of questions and confusions, of curiosities and uncertainties:
that God invites us to ask those questions.
That God reminds us of the constancy of that beautiful divine love.
That God encourages us to continue the work of faith: and the actions that result from it.
This is our calling, as people of faith:
to trust in God’s faithfulness, and to bring that message to the world.
May our lives reflect that truth.
The statement “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat” really seems an incongruous directive, when we are thinking about the God of grace –
The God who provided manna to the community so that they would have bread for their journey.
The one who, through the prophets instructed people to feed the hungry as a means of loosing the chains of injustice and setting the oppressed free…
the God in Christ who fed the multitude with physical bread and fish – and ensured there were leftovers for any who would hunger the next day.
The Christ who declared “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will not hunger...”
There’s a LOT of passages where God specifically tells us to provide food.
So… as we read what Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, we can’t help but admit that his commentary today raises questions.
And again, perhaps the unlikely question is the one to best help us understand.:
Rather than saying “WHAT was Paul thinking?!”
Perhaps we need to hear it as “What was the community hearing?”
There’s a slight nuance – easily overlooked - that invites us to consider how the message of idleness was received.
Back in the Greek, the word for idle doesn’t mean unable to work, or lazy; it means the intentionally unruly.
In this letter, It is not so much that believers had given up on their work to do nothing; rather, Paul is calling out the folks who had given up on work to make trouble.
The community had a number folks who, convinced of the end times, were honouring themselves at the expense of others – rather than honouring God with the work they had been called to do.
The same work we are all called to do: to live faithfully, in service to one another. Sharing of our abundance, that we might all have the abundant life that God promises. In this, Paul reminds us to “not be weary of doing what is right.”
Our Gospel again brings us to the edge of the apocalypse! That unveiled awareness of inevitable change…
Jesus speaks first about the destruction of the Temple – which is a bit weird, given that they were IN the temple at the time.
And it was GLORIOUS. A phenomenal structure that had been constructed to intimidate and overwhelm all who saw it – done so intentionally by its benefactor, the insecure and power-hungry Herod.
Even now, Architectural historians recognise Herod’s skill as a builder because of the Temple – so for Jesus to speak of its ultimate destruction would normally elicit a question of “HOW could THAT happen?”
But instead, his friends ask:
When?
Because they don’t need to know how. They understand that while that may be interesting, it’s not significant to their ministry.
Because they believe.
If Jesus says it will come down; it will. The details are just details.
But (understandably), they are naturally curious to know the timing.
And – the circumstances. What will be the signs?
Here, they’re not asking about foundational cracks or structural faults…
They know that a fallen Temple suggests a drastic shift in the community – and that is what they want to be ready for.
Perhaps this is why Jesus does not articulate a timeline that can be measured by a calendar, but rather a contextual change that requires attention to the community.
And goes on to provide the assurance and comfort to his followers that God will provide what they need – along with the gentle nudge of a reminder that we are all to be living in the present, not fearing the future.
For the pressure to prepare ahead comes from a fear of not being able to meet the moment.
Instead, the disciples (ourselves included) are promised that God’s provision will give them whatever defense they need in their own experience of turmoil; and that our endurance in the faith is lifted up as virtue.
What a gorgeous reminder then, for all of us – as we live in a time of questions and confusions, of curiosities and uncertainties:
that God invites us to ask those questions.
That God reminds us of the constancy of that beautiful divine love.
That God encourages us to continue the work of faith: and the actions that result from it.
This is our calling, as people of faith:
to trust in God’s faithfulness, and to bring that message to the world.
May our lives reflect that truth.
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