We are one Sunday away from the end of the church’s liturgical year. Hence it is logical to surmise that the lessons for today are related to the supposed end of the world. Needless to say, people of all ages and cultures have speculated about it. The first lesson from Daniel and the lessons from Hebrews and Mark were written two turbulent centuries apart, but all three were composed for a turbulent and quite unsettling time for people of faith. Nonetheless, the last word in these works is not despair over utter devastation, but solid hope and affirmation for the future of God’s great intentions for this earth.
What I find remarkable about the Gospel is that Jesus doesn’t let the disciples dwell on the vision of the total destruction of the magnificent Jerusalem Temple, one of the largest structures in the world at the time, but affirms, even if this sort of thing happens, it will not be the end, but the beginning of birth pangs. That is to say, out of this extreme pain, confusion, and terrible uncertainty, will come forth new birth, a beginning with all the promise of a full future. Jesus points us to look for the morning sunrise, not the evening sunset.
Interestingly enough, the exact historical circumstances of the particular passages we just heard have been in dispute from the day when they were included in the Bible, but what is very clear is their witness of confidence in the future of God’s enterprise. Now is the time to get ready, to witness to the goodness of God, to support and embrace the kindness of grace that seeks to gently kiss us all. “Don’t give up, hold on, remember how the good news set your hearts on fire” their voices urge.
I’ve told the story before of a faithful lady who for decades worked on numerous rummage sales and cooked at countless dish-to-pass or covered-dish suppers. She was always there ready to help, and her small parish was like a child to her. When she neared her death she instructed her family to please bury her with her favorite apron and a folk. Her family could understand the apron, for she loved to be in the kitchen, but the fork seemed more difficult to interpret. The lady just smiled when asked to explain, and would merely say to them “you will understand when the time comes.”
When at last she died, they found among her last instructions, an envelope labeled “remember the fork”. Inside was a letter to her family that began “Dear Family, I know that you will mourn my loss, but I have asked you to place a fork beside my body to remind you to recall that near the end of all those church suppers, one of us in the kitchen would come out and say, remember to keep your forks. And then everyone knew that dessert was coming, and that there was something good we all should anticipate. I want to be laid to rest with you knowing something good awaits, for me and in time, for you, too.
This Sunday is our official “ingathering Sunday” to offer thanks for what has been given us as we lift up and offer our commitments for the coming year. Of course a specified ingathering Sunday is largely symbolic, for giving from our hearts has no deadlines or restrictions. Pledge cards are just a sign of something deeper. For every time we come together here to give thanks and to lift up our hearts, we are in effect telling each other to keep our forks.
Yes, the future is of some concern, and we can certainly scare each other with ample fears. Yet the last word is that among people of faith enduring troubling times, there are always signs of birth pangs. Keep your forks, for there are some really super things in store for this parish and we are quite fortunate to be included and to be here. There are concerts, special education events, some fellowship gatherings, as well as wonderful liturgical services that promise more than all the cakes in Wegmans’ dessert cases. Yes, we must deal with deficits, lean times and budget squeezes, but through it all, keep your fork.
So in appreciation and as a reminder for all of us in the times ahead, there is a fork taped to your bulletin. Take it home, tape it to your refrigerator. As we close out this year and look forward to Advent, the season of preparation for the coming of our Lord, may it remind us to always keep our hope strong and anticipate the goodness and signs of God’s grace that await to be discovered and to be born.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
