"The Situation in Judea"

Mark 13:24-37 

Advent 1

11-30-2014

Jerusalem was on fire, and everybody knew it.

Talk was of a full-scale revolt.

The Jews in Rome would talk about the latest news they got from friends and relatives back home. They’d huddle closer and lower their voices when Aurelia walked by.

She didn’t blame them. A wealthy Roman citizen like herself: they probably thought she’d turn them in for sedition. They couldn’t know that Aurelia worshiped the same God they did. She was careful who she told about that.

She had learned to hold her tongue at her husband’s dinner parties, when people talked about “The Judean situation,” and said things about her new family of faith, like, “If those agitators want to go up against Rome, and burn down their own city, it’s on them.”

Even some of her closest friends didn’t know what she did in the early hours each Sunday morning: quietly unlocking the back door to her large house, inviting Christ-followers from all walks of life, both Jews and Gentiles, into her dining room by candlelight, to eat, and sing, pray, and tell stories. 

It was the stories that first got her attention: of this Jewish peasant from the far Eastern territories, who announced a kingdom of justice and equality, who embodied the presence of the One God of the universe, and who resisted oppression, even to the point of dying on a cross, and rising, in the early hours of a Sunday.

And this Sunday, hours before dawn, as she stood in her atrium and peered up at the fading stars, it was to this man, the Son of God,

that she prayed:

“Watch over my new brothers and sisters in that land. 
And watch over my son.

Keep him safe.”

There was a knock at the door.

Her heart sped up.

She unlatched the door, opening it just a crack.

Standing there was Joshua, a contractor who had worked on her house, and his wife Esther.

Members of her congregation.

“Joshua, Esther…hello…

you’re the first ones here.”

Esther spoke up first.

“Yes, Aurelia my dear, so sorry if it’s a bad time. We wondered if we could have a word before worship.”

“Of course,” Aurelia said, opening the door and inviting them inside.

“What’s on your mind?”

Joshua’s eyes were fixed on the floor

as Esther began.

“You’ve been such a good friend to us, Aurelia. We were so thankful when you lent us that money after Joshua hurt his back, and we still intend to pay the rest back, so please know it isn’t you…but…”

“We can’t worship here anymore,”

Joshua blurted out.

There was silence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” Aurelia said.

“It really isn’t you,” Esther continued. “It’s just…you know Joshua lost his cousin in Judea last month, and it’s getting even worse now, and it’s…it’s not that we approve of violent revolt, but at the same time, people know we come here. Maybe your friends don’t,

but ours do.” 

“I think I understand,” Aurelia said.

“See, that’s part of the problem,”

Joshua replied, “You think you understand. You’ve studied our stories, our faith, like a school subject. How we’ve been conquered, enslaved, scattered across the world. What  you don’t know is how it feels to live with it all the time. How closely and cautiously the merchants watch us. How the soldiers look at us, like terrorists, like any moment we’ll pull out our knives and attack. You’ll never understand that. And the thing is, our friends, the people I do business with…they know who you are. And they just…they don’t understand what we do here.”

There was a long silence.

Aurelia spoke up. “I see.

So is this about my son? Titus?”

Joshua’s face fell.

“I can tell you that doesn’t help. I mean he’s an officer. He’s not just taking orders down there, he’s giving them. While our people die! And meanwhile we come here, week after week.”

“Alright,” Aurelia said. “Do what you need to do, of course. I really will miss you…will you at least stay for today’s meal?”

Esther looked troubled.

“I’m not sure we should.”

“Look…it’s okay, really,” Aurelia said, “These are such hard times. But you’re my friends. If not for you, I’d never have known the Lord. You both have a long day of work ahead. Just eat with us. Just to say goodbye.”

“Well…alright, we’ll stay for a bit,”

Joshua said at last.

The food was good, as always.

Aurelia and the servants had prepared it last night, so they could eat together. But it was tense, and quiet. Like a funeral. People spoke quietly. The Gentiles and Jews sat separately, which had always bothered Aurelia,

but today even more so.

She ate silently, her mind adrift.

How can I love Christ, yet follow him in secret?

How can I sit silent,

while my brothers and sisters suffer?

And yet, how can I speak out, without being seen as disloyal to my country? My family?

Could Titus lose his rank because of me?

“Aurelia. Aurelia!” Her husband had her elbow. 
“head out of the clouds, dear. It’s time to start.”

“Oh, yes…thank you. Greetings in Christ, sisters and brothers. Does anyone have a word from the Lord this morning?”

The silence stretched longer than normal.

“I do.”

All eyes turned to Mark, a middle-aged Roman, with jet black hair, graying at the temples. 

“Grace to you, my brothers and sisters. 

As you know, I spent several years following Peter, the apostle of the Lord. I heard his stories many times, and I have begun collecting others.

Peter once spoke of a time in the last week of Jesus’ life, in Jerusalem, when he taught about the end of the world.

A time of great suffering, when the sun and moon will go dark, and the stars will fall, and even the powers in the heavens will be shaken. He said that even some of us would live to see these things.

Hearing the news from Jerusalem, the signs are abundant: it would certainly seem that the day is drawing closer. The powers of this earth, the institutions we rely on to keep us safe and do justice, have shaken our trust.

Our footing is not sound.

And yet, we wait. We wait in hope.

Because the Lord could come tomorrow, or in a thousand years, or two thousand,

but the kingdom he announced,

the kingdom of unity and love,

can come now. Immediately.

God’s Spirit is with us, drawing us together, Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, slave and free. We need no Savior from the clouds for that: God is already doing it here.

God’s Spirit draws together the fruits of our labor, to feed the poor and care for the sick among us.

More than that, God’s spirit is drawing together these healing stories: stories not just about a God of power and glory in the clouds, but a God who walked as one of us: who did not dismiss or belittle the pain of any man, woman, or child, but instead came to serve them, and give up his life for them—and for us—on the cross.

Heaven and earth may pass away,

but his words never will.

We bear in our hearts this story—his story, which I have begun committing to writing—In our words and deeds,

Reminding our world that each life lost,

whether like ours or very different,

was a child of God, for whom Jesus died,

and while he weeps with us at the injustice,

He comes to establish peace,

And yet he has come, in our community of love.

These are dark days.

But we keep awake for signs of his presence, and we wait in hope.”

A few others shared reflections and prayers.

After the Lord’s Supper, each one left for the day’s work. In the weeks after, Aurelia would see Joshua and Esther in the marketplace from time to time.

They’d nod and smile politely.

They finally did pay the money back;

she knew they would.

In the following year, Aurelia became very ill.

The congregation came late one night, to pray and lay hands on her.

She felt a pair of hands join the rest as they prayed. 
When she opened her eyes,

there was Esther with the others.

During her illness,

Titus had pulled every string he could

to get reassigned to the capital.

He spoke more softly and seemed more anxious than the boy she had known,

But he was home.  

And early one Sunday morning when she was feeling better, she woke him from an uneasy sleep.

“My son,” she whispered,

“It’s time to wake up. It’s high time you met some friends of mine…”