Last summer as the smoke from wildfires blew into Moscow there were a few days when the air quality registered as unhealthy or even hazardous. Breathing was hard, especially for those with respiratory ailments. As unpleasant as it was for us, I kept thinking about people in places like Kamiah, Chelan, and Omak. Those communities were so close to the fires that they not only had smoke they actually had ashes falling from the sky.
I served the United Methodist Churches in Omak and Conconully for 7 ½ years so the Okanogan Complex fires hit especially close to home for me. When I heard that the village of Conconully had been evacuated I was riveted to Face Book, watching for posts from former parishioners. I imagined that little white church going up in flames. Even from this distance it seemed like the world was falling apart.
And for some people it nearly did. Three firefighters were killed when their vehicle crashed as they fled from the flames. Across the West over a million acres burned and 80 some houses were destroyed. Former parishioners lost their outbuildings though their house was saved.
Fire seems to be the natural disaster most common in the West. Other places get typhoons, hurricanes, and earthquakes. The loss caused is terrible. As they are happening nothing else matters than sheer survival. The horror they bring is distressingly real.
As close to home as those fires hit they were, for most of us, a story on the news, perhaps one told by someone we knew, but not a crisis facing our community. At least not this year. Most of us do face times when our worlds fall apart: a health crisis; the death of a loved one whether it is sudden or long and drawn out; the loss of a job or the ending of a marriage. In the middle of those times it can feel like the world is falling apart around you.
In our Gospel reading this morning, Jesus warns the disciples that the world as they know it will come to an end. The disciples gaze in wonder at the beauty of the temple and Jesus tells them, "Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." Such a thought must have seemed impossible to them, as unthinkable as it would be for us to imagine the basalt stones of this church crumbling or a the Moscow Mountain cedar grove gone up in smoke. Yet only a few decades later Jerusalem itself, including the temple, was destroyed by the Romans. Mark wrote his Gospel either as that tragedy was about to happen or perhaps it already had. Jews in that time surely felt the pressure to join the battle, just as young men and women enlisted in the military after the World Trade towers fell on 9-11.
Our reading today from I Samuel gives us a very different picture of despair. Hannah cries out to God in deep pain because she has not conceived a child. For her infertility was an all consuming disaster. Without a child she had no purpose in life. Her crisis was more individual and personal than a fire which sends smoke for thousands of miles, and for Hannah nothing else mattered.
Back in the Gospel of Mark Jesus takes the one disaster of the temple's destruction and looks ahead to the end of all time. "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines." As surely as the temple itself would fall, so too, says Jesus, is the certainty of God's final judgment. The one disaster has a relative value compared to the ultimate judgment.
Over the millennia since, people have read Jesus' prediction as if it were a roadmap to the future. When war breaks out, especially if it is in the Middle East, or an earthquake crumbles houses in Nepal or China they see the end of the world. For those in the midst of any particular disaster it may indeed be the end of the world as they know it. But despite those who have gathered on mountain tops or quit their jobs in anticipation of the end of the world, it has not happened. Again and again people have missed the full meaning of Jesus' statement: "This is but the beginning of the birth pangs."
One of my parishioners all those years ago in Omak was a retired nurse named Myrtle. Myrtle did not suffer fools gladly. She liked to tell of the time she was working in Labor and Delivery when the doctor was a pompous man. He came in to examine the expectant mother, accompanied by students, whose presence only made him more pompous. "The birth won't be for at least another thirty minutes," he said, and left the room along with the students. At that point Myrtle leaned over to the mother and said "Push." She then caught the baby, placed it on the mother's chest, and went out to the hallway to say, "Doctor, would you like to come cut the cord?"
After Hannah's prayer of despair over her infertility, she went home and less than a year later she cried out in a very different way as she labored to give birth to Samuel. Her cries of despair had been the beginning of the birth pangs.
These are but the beginning of the birth pangs. When we cry out in agony God can bring forth new life. "Do not be alarmed," Jesus told the disciples. What feels like the end of the world can be only a step along the way. God's future is not dust and ashes but new life. The goal is salvation and salvation is not a onetime event but a process that leads to healing and wholeness.
"Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he,' and they will lead many astray." Jesus said. When it seems the world is falling down around us we must look for Jesus' arrival in the midst of the disaster. Like the doctor who predicted the birth would not be for another half an hour, new life can surprise us.
Along the way we have faithful work to do. "Push," Myrtle told the mother, she pushed, and a child was born.
As followers of Jesus when the world is falling apart we must be about the work of hope. Part of the tragedy of the Okanogan Complex fires this past summer is that they followed equally terrible fires in the summer of 2014. In 2014 fire swept through the town of Pateros, burning forty some homes, including the United Methodist parsonage. This past summer the Pateros Church became a shelter for people fleeing the fires further north in the county. The United Methodist Volunteers in Mission who had been building new houses along with an ecumenical team had to quit work for a time because the air quality was so unhealthy. They've resumed work and last month they broke ground on the new parsonage. From the ashes of despair hope was born. The UMVIM teams pushed and new life has come.
As followers of Jesus when the world is falling apart we must be about the work of peace. This year the Staff Parish Relations Committee has worked hard to write a Conflict Resolution Policy. Thanks especially to DM and CP who put untold hours into it. The policy itself is primarily for the work of the Staff Parish Relations Committee when complaints come their way. Its procedure, however, has wisdom for us all. Based on Biblical teaching it encourages us to first talk directly to someone with whom we are unhappy. Be as specific as possible about the concern and do it immediately or as soon as possible. If that doesn't resolve the problem, ask one other person to accompany you. It could be a member of the SPRC if your complaint is with a staff member of the church. If it is another situation find someone you trust to go with you. And if THAT does not resolve the issue then it can go on to a larger group, perhaps the Council or another larger body.
Jesus offered this basic procedure as a way to resolve conflict and to build peace. Direct, immediate, specific, and with as few people involved as possible. No rumor mongering or building dissension in the ranks. Instead do the work of peace.
These steps are the faithful work of peace. We are to do so when the birth pangs start. New life will come. Push.