Proper Twenty-eight 11/17/24
The Still Point
A Time of Meditation and Reflection
The Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper XXVIII
... At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance...
T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton
Peace on each one who comes in need;
Peace on each one who comes in joy.
Peace on each one who offers prayers;
Peace on each one who offers song.
Peace of the Maker, Peace of the Son,
Peace of the Spirit, the Triune One.
Opening Prayer
Praise to you, God, for all your work among us. Yours is the vigor in creation, yours is the impulse in our new discoveries. Make us adventurous, yet reverent and hopeful in all we do. Amen.
Scripture Reading Mark 13:1-8
As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”
Poem: “The Spaces of Hope” by Ivan V. Lalic
I have experienced the spaces of hope,
The spaces of a moderate mercy. Experienced
The places which suddenly set
Into a random form: a lilac garden,
A street in Florence, a morning room,
A sea smeared with silver before the storm,
Or a starless night lit only
By a book on the table. The spaces of hope
Are in time, not linked into
A system of miracles, nor into a unity;
They merely exist. As in Kanfanar,
At the station; wind in a wild vine
A quarter-century ago: one space of hope.
Another, set somewhere in the future,
Is already destroying the void around it,
Unclear but real. Probable.
In the spaces of hope light grows,
Free of charge, and voices are clearer,
Death has a beautiful shadow, the lilac blooms later,
But for that it looks like its first-ever flower.
translated from the Serbian by Francis R. Jones
Meditation
Imagine spending time with a beloved mentor (like the disciples in today's Gospel reading), taking a stroll, and mustering up the courage to comment on the amazing stones and buildings of the temple. You’ve spent a lot of time with this wise man, but you’re finally at that point of the friendship when you can just say what’s on your mind. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Hoping that he’ll agree, or add some deep statement, or nurture your own contemplative wonder, he instead kills the mood, saying, in short order, that the temple won’t be there for long, and that all sorts of troubles are soon to come. Oh, and don’t trust anyone.
Think of the emotional whiplash - wonder and awe brought down to earth, replaced by destruction, family strife, and what some have called the ‘little’ apocalypse (as if any apocalypse can be a little one!). Now look at that last work of the gospel reading, which deserves to be highlighted, starred, underlined, just so that it doesn't get overlooked. Out of that gloomy vision comes not just another symptom of a violent world, but birthpangs.
In the King James Version of the Bible, and in other translations, this word was ‘sorrows’, which checks all the right boxes if you want darkness and apocalypses, but seems to completely miss the point of the term’s original meaning. Pangs / pains, yes, but the type of pains that bring about new life. In fact, the type of pains whose very existence is defined in its relationship to new life about to arrive.
It is that word that might help us join two sides of a metaphorical hinge: this reading, after all, comes near the end of one church year, and the beginning of another is just two weeks away. In this hinge moment of the year, apocalypses, ruined temples, and, of course, an apocalyptic election, all might tempt us to go dark ourselves. But both the pangs and the birth are real, and just around the corner God will visit as an infant king, creating light in the darkness of Advent. If you look for them, wonderful writers and thinkers are giving us words of hope in this dark political time, too.
That word, ‘birth pangs,’ might challenge us to look for God in ruin, for light in dark places, and for the divine in ruined temples.
So, if ruins, planets on fire, and wolf bellies can be spaces of hope, maybe anything can. That’s what today’s poem seems to say: ‘The spaces of hope are in time, not linked into a system of miracles, nor into a unity; they merely exist.’
‘In the spaces of hope, light grows, free of charge, and voices are clearer’
Questions for Reflection
What 'birth pangs' are part of your own life at this moment?
Where do you see signs of hope and new life, even in a season (or year, or decade . . .) of darkness?
Where can you carve out spaces of hope at the end of this church year?
Prayers
We bring before God someone whom we have met or remembered today
We bring to God someone who is hurting tonight and needs our prayer
We bring to God a troubled situation in our world
We bring to God, silently, someone whom we find hard to forgive or trust
We bring ourselves to God that we might grow in generosity of spirit, clarity of mind, and warmth of affection
We offer our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives
We name before God those who have died.
Now to God who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or conceive, by the power which is at work among us, be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all ages. Amen.
Accept our thanks for all you have done, O God. Our hands were empty, and you filled them.
May Christ’s holy, healing, enabling Spirit be with us every step of the way, and be our guide as our road changes and turns, and the blessing of God our Creator, Redeemer and Giver of life be among us now and remain with us forever. Amen.
Reflections this month offered by: Matt Bentley
