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I begin this sermon with fear and trembling, because I am well aware that it would probably be best preached by a woman.

The Beginning of the Birth Pangs - Mark 13: 1-8 - November 15,2009 - Cicero United Methodist Church - Everett J. Bassett

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            I begin this sermon with fear and trembling, because I am well aware that it would probably be best preached by a woman. I'm going to talk about labor pains, and a good number of you are going to hear every other thing I say, and be thinking, "What does he know?" And I can't blame you. The Book of Ecclesiastes says that there is a time to keep silence, and a time to speak out, and like most every man here I have learned that there is a time to keep silence. If you are sitting around talking in a bunch of people, and the women begin to share their birthing experiences - if you're the man in that situation ­just don't say anything. You can't add anything to the conversation. If you see a chance to get the conversation back to football, you can go for it, but it probably won't do you much good. Just be silent, and bide your time. Now that I've passed a couple kidney stones, I've been a little braver - but, it turns out, no wiser. Just be quiet.

            So it is with great humility that I speak this morning, of something about which I have no experiential basis. But giving birth is one of the most powerful images from beginning to end in the Bible. From God's command to go forth and multiply - to stories like those of Sarah, Hannah, and Elizabeth - to God's special attention to the prayers of those who long to give birth - to the central imagery of being 'born again' in the teaching of Jesus, and in the life of faith after Jesus - to Jesus the Risen Lord being described as the 'firstborn from the dead' -- to countless other examples - the imagery of childbirth and labor pains and new birth are central to the faith of the Bible.

            And so, at the beginning of Mark 13, in the passage we read this morning, Jesus talks about a world in pain. It begins with a shocking prediction. One of the disciples is remarking somewhat amazed about the temple in Jerusalem. What a great structure. What great stones have been brought here and made into this building. We all know the sense of what's being said. We've stood before great buildings. Think about the Empire State Building. Or one of the great hotels in Las Vegas. The Eiffel Tower. The marvels of Epcot, or even the Carrier Dome. There is a sense of awe and pride that goes with being around one of these great engineering accomplishments. This is what human beings can do. This is something that will always stand, indestructible. And Jesus and his disciples are from the country, and they are staring up at this great temple.

            And Jesus shocks them. He says that this temple will be thrown down. Not one stone will be left here. And that is just the beginning. As the chapter goes on, the catalog of pain grows - there will be wars; there will be earthquakes; there will be betrayals; there will be false teachings and phony accusations; there will be family breakdowns, and even greater outrages. It is a dreadful picture. What do we do with it?

            As you know, there are a number of devout Christian believers who put this chapter under the category of predictions of the end of the world. They make the case that many of the things talked about in this chapter have come true, and so, they believe, the end of the world is very close. I've never been sure why God would want us to know that, unless it was to scare us into obedience. And, while I do respect the many people here in this church and elsewhere who believe that's exactly what God wants to do, J have to say

that kind of thinking doesn't speak to me. I don't see Jesus using fear to relate to people, or wanting his disciples to. He seems to me to be about something else.

            When I read Mark 13, and the other apocalyptic passages in the Bible, I read about birth. I read about God working hard to bring new and hopeful realities out of this struggling world. Yes, the things that Jesus predicted in Mark 13 have come true, because they are always true. There are always wars, there are always natural disasters, families always struggle with conflict division, there is always betrayal, and great buildings always fall. There is a lot of pain described in Mark 13, because there is a lot of pain in the world. And Jesus knew it.

            But what Jesus wants us to know is that this grim reality is not the whole picture. The pain of this life is not the last word. And the image Jesus uses is birth - these are, he says, the beginning of the birth pangs. Because the fact is, even here in this world of pain, God is creating something. God is not causing the pain, but God is working in the middle of the pain like a midwife bringing something new to birth. Jesus called it a new kingdom, or a new reign of love and peace in this world. And certainly it would come with great pain - miraculous and wonderful births do. But the end result would be something amazing. At the core of our faith is this great expectation - God's kingdom is coming, on earth as it is in heaven.

            Of course, people always have wanted to know when this wonderful new thing will take place; Jesus knew there would be this curiosity and impatience. We can't know the hour of the birth, said Jesus. Just be ready. Be watching. This waiting is the backdrop of Christian hope that God would have us cherish through the journeys of our lives.

Yet while it is a waiting game, there are also times when this newly born world becomes more than just a distant hope. Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is among (us)." So, if we're paying attention, there are gracious signs of this rebirth taking place right now. Let me just share a couple examples:

            The first is a very painful story. It took place, oddly enough, on this day, November 15, but in the year 1917. History has since labeled that night the Night of Terror. 33 women demonstrated outside Woodrow Wilson's White House that day, protesting the fact that women were still denied the vote in America. There was bitter resistance to the women in general, but especially at that time that America had been at war. To demonstrate against the government was seen as treason. So that night, those 33 were arrested. They were taken to Occaquon Prison, where a sadistic warden decided it was time to teach them a lesson. He gave orders to over 40 male guards to hold nothing back. The women were beaten with clubs and tortured; they were tied up overnight in excruciating positions. By the morning most of them - some of them in their seventies -­were just barely alive. Some were imprisoned for weeks, under a veil of secrecy.

            As I said, that's a very painful story. But many historians have argued that it was a turning point in the struggle for women's rights. The details of the night came to light. The public responded with outrage at the abuse of the women. The courts ruled the women unjustly arrested, and people were punished for their treatment. Three years later, women won the right to vote. And we know the results; we take them for granted - the first female mayor of a major city in New York State elected this year - the first major campaign by a woman for the office of President of the United States, and so on. Such a painful event 92 years ago. But those pains endured by women like Lucy Burns and

Dora Lewis became birth pangs for a new possibility for justice for women in America.

            If you read the history of any movement of liberation, you'll find that justice and freedom only come with terrible birth pangs. In the last couple weeks we have seen many images of the Berlin Wall coming down. We know the great waves of history that led to that day, with famous statesmen - Reagan, Gorbachev, Pope John Paul II, and so on -- who brought it about. But we don't always remember the pain borne by millions under the repressive regimes behind that wall. In the thick of it were the people of St. Nikolai Evangelical Lutheran Church in Leipzig, Germany. In response to the suffering of the people, the church began to hold a weekly Monday night prayer vigil for peace. At first, it was a handful of people, but gradually it grew into hundreds, and then even thousands. Eventually, it became a place for people to express their hopes and dreams for their nation, for families divided by the wall- a safe place for ideas and connections.

            The governing heard of it, and was not pleased. In October of 1989, they cracked down. They arrested worshipers and guests, roughed up the pastor, threatened the participants and ordered the meeting stopped. Three days later, 70,000 people showed up, and walked through the streets in front of armed soldiers who were ready to act, but could find no reason. One of them said, "We were ready for anything, except for candles and prayers." A month later, the Berlin Wall came down, and the Iron Curtain began to crumble. Again, those were the labor pains of a new possibility.

            This world is not what it should be. We struggle with so many injustices and turmoils in the human experience. People endure unspeakable hardship. In the midst of it we wonder what God is doing. And people propose all sorts of things: there is no God, some say. Or God no longer pays attention. Or God is helpless to stop the pain. Or God is punishing us. But Jesus proposes another way of seeing it, and that is to ask a question in the middle of the struggle - 'What is being born here? What is the new thing that is being midwifed into the world'. That's the perspective of Easter - of a faith represented in the Bible by such as the apostle Paul, who despite all the hardships and persecutions he endured, said with absolute trust - 'In all things God works for good ... ' and then, 'Nothing in this life or in this death or in all creation can keep me apart from the love of God in Jesus Christ.' That's the faith option Jesus taught his disciples. I believe it for Burns and Lewis and those other women who suffered through that Night of Terror. I believe it for Pastor Fuhrer and his Lutheran congregation in Leipzig, Germany.

            And I believe it for you and me, each one of us, because we all have to endure deep pain and disappointment in the course of our lives. This world is not as it should be. We live in unsettling times in America. People are troubled by many things - a hurting economy; two devastating wars; fears of nuclear weaponry; fears of global climate shifts - the list can go on and on. 'Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.' Jesus saw it all. And there are hurts and fears and griefs right here in this room from all the various losses in life - loss of hope, loss of dreams, jobs, relationships, health, homes. I don't say this lightly at all, because I know those pains are real and deep. But here's something you should at least ask - 'What is being born out of this? What is the new thing God is doing? God didn't cause this, but now that it's here, where is God at work bringing healing and newness and Easter hope?' And we know that's happening too. The testimony of the Bible and all the great millions of disciples before us is that God is faithful. And God is making all things new. And if we're paying attention there are signs everywhere of new life and new possibilities in reborn people taking up great causes, living for justice and goodness and hope.

            I want to be part of that. That's why I'm here. What about you? What about God birthing new potential, a new destiny, in your life?