Luke
21:5-19
We live in uncertain times. But that’s
nothing new. Every age and every life deals with uncertainty. And often the way
we deal with it is to hold tight to things that make us feel secure.
Back in first century Palestine, it was
the temple that offered this sense of security to the Jewish people. Just to
look at it conjured up feelings of strength and safety. Made up of gigantic
stones weighing anywhere from two to five hundred tons, the temple covered the
equivalent of twenty- nine football fields in Jerusalem. It was a sight to
behold. A remarkable feat of engineering which was only dwarfed by the grandeur
it held in every Jewish heart as the center of everything sacred and dear.
And then Jesus goes and drops a bomb. A
verbal bomb that is, smack dab in the middle of the temple. “As for these
things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon
another; all will be thrown down." Which is followed by a series of
apocalyptic, end time predictions. Wars, rebellions, earthquakes, famines,
plagues, family betrayals. It’s fearful and frightening, to say the least. But
we need not get bogged down with the particulars here because, sadly, Jesus’
predictions are not unique to any particular time or place. Every age has its
own disasters.
And everybody has their own temples. Some
temples are made out of stone, but more of them, especially in our day, are
made up of people, places, values, identities, beliefs. Some we have inherited.
Others we have built for ourselves. But whatever that shape or form our temple
takes its role is always the same - to provide us with a sense of stability,
security, identity, meaning - something solid that we can hold onto in an
uncertain world.
But part of Jesus’ message to us is that
whatever our temple, no matter how seemingly strong or secure, eventually it
will fall. So what then? What do we do when our temple falls? When what we have
depended upon fails us? Well, what we often do is what the people did in our
reading from Luke’s gospel. Upon hearing the shocking news of the coming
destruction of their temple they grasp for some sort of certainty even if it’s
just some meager details - “When will this be?...What will be the sign?” they desperately ask - hoping that an answer
might give them something to hold onto, some degree of clarity in the midst of
the unknown. But that’s not what Jesus offers.
Jesuit philosopher, John Kavanaugh, tells
of a time when Mother Teresa asked him, “What can I do for you?” As Kavanaugh
had been ministering to the poor in Calcutta with her and all the while had
been wrestling mightily as he tried to figure out his life path. “Please pray
for me,” he answered. “What do you want me to pray for?” she asked. “Pray that
I have clarity,” he requested. Her response, though, took him by surprise. “No.
No, I will not do that,” she said emphatically, “Clarity is the last thing you
are clinging to and must let go of.” Confused by this Kavanaugh explained to
her that she, Mother Teresa, always seemed to have the clarity in what she was
doing and that was what he longed for. Which made her laugh. “I have never had
clarity,” she told him, “what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that
you trust God.”
Clarity is the last thing we cling to
when our temples crumble and fall. When we feel unsure, insecure or just
completely lost we seek explanations, reasons, answers to why things are the
way they are. But instead of offering those kinds of answers, Jesus calls us to
what we really need. To be still in the midst of chaos or calamity. To resist
reacting out of fear or despair. And instead to remain present and faithful in
whatever circumstances we find ourselves. Trusting that even when, or
especially when, we are at a loss and things are unclear that God is very
present and at work.
Honestly, though, that sounds like a
mighty tall order - to be still and present and faithful when things are
falling apart? And then to add to that the part about enduring, specifically
when Jesus says, “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” The stakes seem
way too high. But know this, Jesus isn’t telling us to simply buck up, tough it
out, and soldier on. Nor is he calling us to a type of fatalism where we
passively accept of life’s hardships. Rather the endurance Jesus speaks of is a
communal hope and faith. It’s not something we do on our own, by ourselves
individually. But by the power of God’s spirit living in us and moving through
us, together, we are able to believe and hope and trust and endure - all the
while knowing that at any one time some of us are really solid in the faith
while others of us are barely holding on. So that even when our temples fall we
hope together trusting ultimately not in our own powers to endure, but in
Jesus’ enduring presence which will save our souls in all times and in all
places.
Life is uncertain. And all the temples of
this world will eventually fall - the one in Jerusalem fell in the year 70. But
what will never fall or fail us is God. The love of God. The love of God that
promises in Christ that from our ruins, whatever they may be, that there will
always, always come new life.
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