November 19, 2006
(Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 28)

Once Upon a Time

by The Rev. Carol Sanford, Curate

Daniel 12:1-4a(5-13)  •  Psalm 16 or 16:5-11  •  Hebrews 10:31-39  •  Mark 13:14-23
(From The Lectionary Page)

The summer before I went to college, I went to school in France. Even with my limited language skills, I quickly learned to navigate the local pastry shop and to ask directions to the ladies’ room, but I never really mastered the local idiom; the particular turns of phrase that make perfect sense to native speakers, but remain nonsense to the uninitiated. Only when I made some direct translations of idiomatic English did I discover that not everything, well, translates. One evening, for example, I finished a delicious French meal and was offered seconds. I replied, in French, no thank you, I’m full. I was an unsophisticated seventeen-year-old student who was linguistically ignorant, and it was with a mixture of shock and amusement that a French dinner companion explained to me that I had just announced to the group that I was expecting a baby. In Southwest Missouri English idiom, “full” means no longer hungry. In the idiom of central France, “full” meant pregnant. Oh dear.

The Lord spoke to Daniel, saying, “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake. Our lesson from Hebrews says, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Jesus says, in Mark, “When you see the desolating sacrilege set up where it ought not to be [let the reader understand]…” OK, let’s stop right there. Do you understand all this? I don’t! First of all, what is this desolating sacrilege and where is it being set up? Is this something that has happened already or will happen in the future or is it symbolic language for something else, or what? Should we be worried? Most of us get a little confused with all this, and with good reason.

We are hearing English words, but they are put together in apocalyptic idiom; a very particular style of communication used in ancient times. We understand the words, but we often miss the meaning because apocalyptic is no longer our natural vocabulary for telling stories.

Most scholars believe that this style of writing was used to convey both warnings and reassurances to persons in threatening political situations, such as persecutions of Jews or of the early Christian communities. But even those who have studied these texts for years cannot claim total comprehension. Most of the symbols simply no longer speak to us as they did to people then.

If we hear, ‘once upon a time,’ we are perfectly comfortable if a prince turns into a frog or someone wears magic slippers. But if the story starts out with a phrase about a desolating sacrilege, or says people in the dust of the earth will awake, we are perplexed.

If this is true for you, don’t worry that you are missing an important part of Holy Scripture. We tell this story all the time, but we tell it more often in our own idiom.

Let’s try telling it this way: Terrible things happen on earth. We hurt and there are wars and people die and it is very hard and scary. We turn to God and are safe in God in ways that transcend all of this. We look to a future when the kingdom of God shown forth in Christ will come to completion on earth. We don’t give up. Now this, we understand.

Our readings are full of apocalyptic stories now because the church year is coming to a close. Next Sunday we hear the final chapter, the full realization of the kingdom of God with the coming of Christ the King. In God’s realm, there is one language that crosses all barriers of time, linguistics, geography, class, race, age or creed. It is the Word of God we have heard spoken in the actions of Jesus: food shared and hungry people fed; outcasts welcomed and hurts healed; life offered for the good of others.

These actions carry the story of hope in a language that is understood by everyone. It is the language of the Divine Word spoken in the idiom of common human experience. Everyone comprehends pain and everyone comprehends love and assistance.

At the Recent Table of Faiths gathering, over 700 persons of diverse religions, including our bishop and representatives of your cathedral clergy and staff, came together to share food, conversation, and prayer. One concept we heard was that communities move in the direction of their stories. The story we tell each week, no matter what our readings are, is the story of the sharing of God’s life and love.

Liturgy and sacrament are our most basic language, and there is something deep within them that we comprehend. We may not always understand intellectually, but they are written in our bodies and on our hearts. They are the stories of our hope. We are not the only people of hope, but we are the Cathedral at the heart of the city and we are the Episcopal Church, and don’t think for one minute that we are not a vision of hope for others.

A Bill Tammeus article last weekend pointed to the Kansas City Community Kitchen as an example of our faith being lived out in practice. A recent visitor to the cathedral remarked that they came here because the Playground equipment told them that we care for children. People come here every day looking for physical and mental and emotional and, of course, spiritual hope and help. We are challenged every day with setting the priorities of our outreach and of our service and sharing with one another. What portion of our resources do we direct to the community that sees the cross on our tower and rightfully expects that aid and comfort are present here? How much personal attention do we give to the people outside our gates and to each other within them?

Katherine, our presiding Bishop, Barry, our Bishop and Terry, our Dean continue to challenge us to carry forward the story of God in helping to reach the Millennium Development Goals and in Loving God Back through how we respond to the world around us. We give to others out of what has been given to us, and if we remember that we celebrate our Thanksgiving every Sunday, all year long, we will find that we have more to offer.

Here is a simple method: if you have enough food to eat and clothes to wear and a place to live safely, find a way some way to share with those who don’t. Not all needs are physical. If you have dignity and respect in you life, find a way to share those, too. And, most certainly, if you have found this cathedral to be a place to encounter God, and to be not alone and not afraid, invite others in.

Liturgy and sacrament, not Apocalyptic, make up our idiom, but we are still telling the same story: bad stuff, scary times, faithful God, hope.

We move in the direction of the stories we tell. Here, we tell of being filled with the love and life of God and of giving out of our fullness. We are full, and, with Advent just a few weeks away, we might even say that we are pregnant with Love and Hope. Let us speak in God’s idiom; let us share with one another.