The author of the letter to the Hebrews knew things were changing. The signs were all around. The rule of Rome looks – to the casual observer – to be an eternal certainty. But when your life has been affected by an encounter with Jesus, you begin to see things differently.

The world as it is no longer seems so self-contained. The dependable institutions and habits and traditions seem less magnificent. Present events take on an unpredictable tone. The future feels like an impossible destination.

Jesus – on his last trip to Jerusalem – was trying to help his disciples see through an illusion. And when we consider this passage from Mark’s gospel, we are never sure how to respond.

Jesus offers a litany of warning and caution. Not encouraging.

Jesus, standing at the spiritual centre of the physical universe says “yes, this is lovely – but it’s all going to crumble. You will see and hear things that sound like solutions. Be careful, and don’t be fooled. These horrible things must happen. Only then will you see what magnificence really looks like.”

Wait – did Jesus just promise war and rumours of war? Did Jesus just say we would have to endure some measure of misery? Where is the good news in that? How can we take Jesus at his word?

War and the rumour of war has been ours in abundance – especially since the turn of the Twentieth Century. False prophets, and those claiming to offer some kind of temporal salvation are everywhere – even now. Powerful people – and those who desire power – know that these promises are the quickest way to the throne. And somehow the Gospel anticipated all this.

In truth, prophecy of the kind we read in Mark 12 is not all that difficult. People, in general, want to be assured. People who want to control others quickly learn what to say to sound assuring. These habits create a façade of magnificence – an illusion of security – things that are fragile and sadly temporary. Jesus is training his disciples to look past the façade. To expose the greed, arrogance and delusion that offers such temporary and particular security.

The things we have become accustomed to – things that protect the privilege of some at the expense of the liberty of others – can we see them for what they really are?

The question for disciples of Jesus in 2024 is this: are we ready to examine our habits and our institutions – are we ready to let those thing crumble that do not truly serve the needs of humanity? Are we able to help live into a prophetic present, where the seemingly magnificent things must give way for God’s justice and compassion -God’s grace and salvation?

These are hard questions to ask these last several years. In a time when plenty of questions are being asked of our treasured institutions. In an age when suspicion abounds, and a thousand voices claim to have the answer, Jesus’ words from Mark 12 are suddenly very personal. But the gospel is also instructive.

Jesus is on his way to his fateful appointment on the cross, so it would be easy to imagine that he is leaving us to our own devices. But in Jerusalem, Jesus walks knowingly into a situation where the system will unmask itself. Pax Romana is a façade – that ‘peace’ comes at a horrible price. Unflinching obedience is the coin of the realm. The cost is spread over any who are not deemed worthy.

Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion reveal the methods of the treasured system of Roman justice. And that should have been the lesson – over and done. But the resurrection changes the tone.
We still long fo and fight for justice because the author of justice upended the story – the true power is revealed in the risen Christ and the empty grave. Creation can seem to be tamed and ruled by the worst of human impulses, but God’s impulse towards justice and grace will always have the last word.

“Many will claim ‘I am he’…do not be deceived…these things must happen…they are but the beginning of the birth pangs.” The hope that sustains the author of the letter to the Hebrews is based on the stirrings of a new thing, long promised. The Creator is always at work – though often that work is obscured by those who are only too happy to claim power that is not rightly theirs. Our task in this unfolding drama is not easy, but it is essential. To claim the hope that rests in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. To cling to that hope – even when all seems lost – to remember that hope when all seems well. We are master illusionists, always ready to be fooled by our own brilliance. Jesus bids us open our eyes to the steady, certain reality of God’s grace and peace. Even now. Especially now.