Birth Pangs of Birth, Death, and New Life

In the gospel last week, after teaching in the Temple, Jesus noticed how a poor widow gave more of what she had, two small copper coins, to the treasury than all of the rich people who preceded her. The rich gave out of their abundance – money not needed on daily necessities and money that would not be missed if given away – the widow gave all that she had. Jesus then gathers four of his closest disciples, two sets of brothers -- Peter and Andrew, and James and John – to sit with him across the Kidron Valley on the Mount of Olives. This would be the same place, to a garden area of the Mount called Gethsemane, where Jesus would come in the hours of the night soon before his trial and death. It was a place where many pilgrims would come to camp out for the evening if there was no room in the inns or homes of the city. It was a prime location from which the Temple could be viewed in its full splendor. When the sun would rise at dawn, the light reflecting off the gold surface of the outer Temple looked like fire. It was a man-made structure that by its very construction spoke to the holiness, the permanence, the location and the might of God. . Inside its holiest place, it was the place where heaven touched earth. From the beginning of recorded time humanity has gathered to worship the infinite in the confines of the finite: temples, shrines, pyramids, and churches. To ponder the mystery and the unknown, we build structures to gather in to pray and know the mystery.

Earlier in the week I gathered with a small group of Canadian and American deans in Montreal to discuss, as we do twice a year in different cities, the particular joys and challenges of serving in cathedrals. We routinely find common threads and trends in our ministries. What cathedrals share in common is a sense of history, location and identity. Many of our churches have been attended and prayed in for generations, have seen every latest liturgical innovation and church controversy possible and yet still remain, and we exist not only for our Sunday congregation but also as a focal point in the life of the larger community, in our case the Diocese of Connecticut and the city of Hartford. The great Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple once said that the church is the only organization in the world that exists primarily for those who are not its members. Cathedrals remind us of this challenge when we open our doors to the city, to visitors and to the many parishes in our diocese. We have been given the gift of identity in a time when many parish churches wrestle with questions of mission.

Challenges that come with our identity remain. Cathedrals in North America tend be older buildings built in the center of cities where much of the population has long since moved away to the suburbs to build newer churches. Before the exodus, some of our members still remember when the pews were full at four services on Sundays; there were six to seven priests on staff, 500 children in Sunday school and 75 in the various choirs. Times have changed in Hartford! In my time in town thus far, I cannot tell you how many people I have met around town that know of Christ Church Cathedral because we are located across the street from the old G Fox Department Store, now Capital Community College. Many a childhood memory was formed in this city across the street from where we are today. They remember the escalators, and Christmas displays and the grand foyers. It was shopping magic, I’m told. And they remember that Christ Church was the pretty brownstone church across the street.

All of the deans at the meeting this week (except one) face the same challenge: fewer members worshipping in older buildings. There is, as we realized from our sharing, a type of person attracted to Cathedral life. Being downtown and within walking distance of various hotels, we tend to see more visitors from out of town than the typical suburban parish. What this means is that when we see a new face on Sunday morning it may be their first and last visit. Also, people attracted to larger worship spaces common in many cathedrals value the space around them. Many do not want to sit right up front or even near someone, but would rather sit on the edges and behind the occasional pillar. Larger worship spaces offer community or anonymity. Cathedrals tend not to attract people who are busting at the seams to teach Sunday school. They come for excellence in music and worship and would rather not serve on committees or host coffee hour. Sound familiar? Even as we shared with one another the challenges of our communities, all in our group realized that not one of us would want to be anywhere else.

For me, this week of reflection about the symbolism, the endurance, the centrality of a man-made worship space offered me another way to hear what Jesus was saying in the 13th chapter of Mark – a section referred to as the “little apocalypse.” When Jesus turned to the four and said, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” He pointed to the central location of the community’s worship and said that it would not last forever. Jesus said that nothing man-made is permanent and often, things get harder before they get better.

If true, and we know from history that the Romans destroyed the Temple some 30 years after Jesus lived, it would not be the first time the Temple faced destruction. A mini Temple history refresher: the first Temple dated back to the time of King Solomon, the son of King David, some ten centuries before Christ. That temple was destroyed during the invasion by the Babylonians some four centuries later. This was the time of the Exile when the people of Israel were scattered. They returned within a century and began work on the Second Temple. That temple would be desecrated later first by the Greeks and the Romans. It would fall upon Herod the Great, the King of the Jews when Jesus was born, to begin the last rebuilding of the Temple. The last rebuilding began some 15 years before Jesus’ birth and would not be completed until A.D. 62, some 25 years after the crucifixion. So the Temple that Jesus and the others gazed upon was not even complete when Jesus predicted its destruction. It was a building in progress.

When we think of the world’s great buildings, some of them took centuries to be built. The great cathedral in Cologne, Germany took seven centuries to be completed. St. John the Divine, the Episcopal Cathedral in New York City, is still unfinished. Many buildings were begun in one time period, and later had to be trimmed back due to lack of money. With so much attention we continue to give to our buildings during this recent stage of our ongoing restoration, it can be noted that work on this parish church began in 1827. When it was built, it looked quite different on the inside than it does today. First of all, I would not be preaching here off to the side, I would be preaching from a central high pulpit. All of this rather ornate painting and murals were added 50 years later. The chancel was recessed 16’ in 1879. The baptistery was in the chapel. This building that oozes permanence has changed over time.

The destruction that Jesus spoke of would come at a time of profound conflict and upheaval in the world. Today, we too have wars and rumors of war. Each week gives yet another heart wrenching account of the violence in Iraq. As if that is not enough, we are told to worry about a nuclear Iran and North Korea. We too have earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, epidemics and famine. Is our end near? Is Christ set to return? How would we know? Jesus said later in chapter 13 of Mark. v. 32 “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

In this country, we may not experience famine, but in a society of abundance many are hungry. Each Sunday we feed from our kitchens at least one hundred hungry souls. Many others with full stomachs hunger for love, meaning and lasting relationships.

A lesson to take away from the gospel this morning is that an end is not always “the” end. An end of an era, the collapse of a beloved building, or a fixed mindset of looking at our lives and the world can lead to new beginnings. Remember: nothing is permanent. Nothing is indestructible. No one is untouchable. Buildings made of thick walls; roofs covered with gold, and filled with furnishings of the best woods can be destroyed. Nations that spend billions and billions on their self-defense can be infiltrated by no-name terrorists with plane tickets and box cutters and their desire to inflict unspeakable horror. Well-financed incumbents in carefully redrawn congressional districts can be voted out of office. Individuals who go through life largely untouched by hardship, doubt, disappointment or tragedy, can be just one incident away from a profound crisis of faith. What happens when the temples in our world come apart, lose credibility and become diminished in our eyes and the eyes of the world? What and who will anchor us when everything else seems adrift? How can one believe in a church when a trusted pastor has breached their trust through immorality or betrayal? How can we trust anew a partner who has strayed and been unfaithful? How can we forgive a parent for not giving us what we most wanted and needed but never knew how to say it?

Finally, Jesus said that all of what the world was seeing was just the beginning, it was the birth pangs. It is quite interesting that Jesus described this chaotic uncertain end time as the beginning of birth pains. The gospel records the word used (the Greek word odin) as the same word for death. In every birth, there is a dying. In every dying, there is a new birth.

Sometimes, before things can get better in our world and in our lives things get harder and darker and lonelier. Maybe that is what we need to finally see the way though. We need darkness to block out the false teachers and their empty promises. We need loneliness to finally come to terms with who we are and to begin to take the risky step of loving the God who has made us. And we need some pain to realize how to pray and call out for God’s help and comfort when all else fails. Buildings may fall, leaders may change. May we turn to God alone for what never ends: God’s love for us and for this world.