What Jesus taught the disciples that Tuesday evening of Holy Week would have sounded to them like the end of the world.
On Tuesday of that Passover week, Jesus spent the day in the Temple compound, exercising control over it after having done a house-cleaning in it the day before. His day was filled with teaching, fielding questions, and avoiding the attempts to trap him wielded by the different religious and political factions. The religious authorities were furious with him for taking control of what they considered to be their world. They were set on arresting him. All they needed was an excuse.
As the day ended, Jesus and his disciples left the Temple complex, heading back to Bethany for the night. As they left, one of the disciples spoke with wonder about the structure. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” (Mark 13:1). The quarried stones that had been used in the construction of the compound—the foundation, the walls surrounding the complex, the various courtyards and porticos, the temple itself—were indeed massive. The majority were limestone blocks that measured thirty-seven and a half feet long, eighteen feet wide, and twelve feet thick. The unnamed disciple’s comment suggests he was overwhelmed with the sheer massiveness of the complex. It also suggests he was surveying the structure in anticipation that he and his companions would assume control of it when Jesus revealed himself as the Messiah. His comment could be understood to mean, “Just think, Jesus! All of this is going to be yours (and ours)!”
Jesus’s response to the disciple’s statement would have squelched his enthusiasm while leaving him bewildered. “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon anther; all will be thrown down” (Mark 13:2).
What Jesus taught his disciples on that occasion is known as the Temple Discourse. It is found in Mark 13. What he said was going to happen would have been almost beyond their ability to imagine. The Temple was going to be destroyed. That reality would have sounded to them like the end of the world.
For over five hundred years—since its dedication in 515 BCE—the Second Temple had been the center of Israel’s religious life. (The first Temple—Solomon’s Temple—had been destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BCE.) By the time of Jesus, the Second Temple was known as Herod’s Temple because of Herod’s work in expanding the Temple compound. The people viewed the Temple as the dwelling place of God on earth. It was one of three pillars around which their faith was built—the law representing their covenant with God, the Davidic monarchy representing the LORD’s rule in the life of their nation, and the Temple as God’s dwelling place in their midst. The Temple embodied the heart of their identity as the covenant people of God. To think of it being destroyed was simply unimaginable.
In the discourse, Jesus taught about the coming crisis in which the Temple would be destroyed. That crisis and destruction occurred in 70 CE when the Roman army, after a three-year siege, destroyed the Temple. Using apocalyptic language, Jesus also taught about the end of the age—the end of the current age that would usher in the age to come when heaven and earth would be reunited and God would reign on earth. The destruction of the Temple was not the end of the age.
While the destruction of the temple would have sounded to the disciples like the end of the world, it was not. It was, however, the end of the world as they knew it.
The end of the world as we know it is a normal part of life. It does not always involve a life-shattering crisis as the disciples faced. As the years go by, life as we have known it gives way to a different stage of life in which we face new realities and new challenges. We get married, leaving our youth and life as a single behind. We have children with all the joys and challenges they create. The kids go off to kindergarten and, then, before we know it, they graduate from high school, moving off toward adulthood and leaving us with an empty nest. We go through the loss of a job or a career change or a relocation. We walk through an unexpected divorce or a health crisis. We come to retirement, leaving the work years and the productive stage of life behind. We cope with the death of spouse. In all of these situations—and many more—we experience the end of the world as we have known it.
We are living through the end of the world as we have known it—in the splintering of The UMC through the disaffiliation process, in the decline of the institutional church in the US and growth of the NONES, in the growing diversity and corresponding shrinking of the “white” demographic within our nation, in the resurfacing of racial, ethnic, and religious bigotry in our national politics—a pushback against the decline of WASP power, in the climate of extremism in the political arena displacing a commitment to the “common good,” in the rejection of science and education as respected sources of truth in our culture, in the abandoning of public education as a primary means of “getting ahead” socially and economically in life.
What happens to us when we experience the end of the world as we know it? How do we deal with the loss of the old? How do we face the new reality with its many unknowns?
Change of any kind—even change that we want and choose—stirs anxiety and fear. Facing new experiences that require different ways of thinking and new skills for coping also stirs anxiety. By nature, we resist change and the new it brings. We cling to the familiarity and comfort of what was. We live as though what is will always be. Yet, it is the nature of life that what was gives way to what is next. What is never remains the same.
As Jesus spoke about the coming end of the world as they knew it, he sought to prepare his disciples for what they would face. He told them to beware (twice—Mark 13:5, 9), be alert (Mark 13:23), beware and keep alert (Mark 13:33), keep awake (twice—Mark 13:35, 37).
His exhortations carry the idea of being aware—i.e., self-aware—as opposed to being on our guard about some external danger. The greatest danger seldom lies outside ourselves. It lies in the anxiety-driven emotional reactivity that stirs within our hearts and minds. Our anxiety can cause us to look for a quick fix that will help us escape the pain and struggle of the situation (Mark 13:6) rather than recognizing, addressing, and learning from the issues reflected in our struggle. Anxiety can cause us to be reactive to the situation rather than staying present, aware of and contributing to how God is at work in the situation (Mark 13:9-13). To be alert is to live consciously rather than unconsciously—thinking and choosing how to respond rather than unconsciously reacting out of unrecognized, unaddressed, and unresolved anxiety-laden issues from the past. To keep awake is to be aware of and responsive to what is happening in the present rather than being lulled into the complacency of old habits and immature patterns of the past.
We cannot avoid the end of the world as we know it. It does happen and will happen again. We can, however, allow our faith in God to guide how we deal with such times. Faith helps us look at what was with gratitude, treasuring the goodness we experienced in it. It trains us to look at the new that will be with confidence, trusting God’s steadfast, faithful love to sustain us, guide us, provide for us, and bless us in what will be. It empowers us to live in the present with self-awareness, managing our anxiety so that we can be God’s partner in what is happening in the moment.
On this Tuesday of Holy
Week, how are you experiencing the end of the world as you know it?
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