Sermon for the 17th of November - Second Sunday Before Advent
The resignation of the ABC this week is a powerful reminder that nothing is fixed, that the CoE is always evolving. Not that we like this very much. I remember one vicar saying, ‘The Church of England is absolutely committed to change…. As long as absolutely nothing alters.’
But change is a part of life and can lead to growth and maturity. One of the most important emphases of the Buddhist tradition is impermanence. All that exists is impermanent; nothing lasts. Life is about continual change. Therefore, nothing can be grasped or held onto. Today’s readings have got me thinking about this, particularly in relation to the Jerusalem temple.
Jesus is standing in the temple courtyard with his disciples shortly after asking them to notice a widow surrendering her last two coins to the temple. One of his disciples is dazzled by the architectural majesty surrounding them.
The Jerusalem temple in Jesus's time was rebuilt by Herod the Great. It was an awe-inspiring structure. Its massive retaining walls were built from forty-foot stones. And its platform was twice the size of the Roman Forum and four times that of the Acropolis in Athens. Herod covered the temple's exterior in so much gold that anyone who gazed at it in bright sunlight risked blinding themselves.
The disciples understandably see an architectural marvel. It was the biggest, boldest, and most unshakeable symbol of God’s presence they are capable of imagining. Those massive stones hold religious memory. They bolster a colonised people’s identity.
And yet Jesus sees impermanence… using apocalyptic language, Jesus sees rubble, ruin, destruction. ‘Not one stone will be left here upon another’, we are told. An apocalypse is an unveiling, often using very dramatic and sometimes ominous language. And what is Jesus’s apocalyptic vision. Jesus urges his disciples to see beyond the temple's grandeur. He reminds them that God transcends buildings, institutions, and human symbols.
As much as we rightly cherish and look after our church here, we must be reminded that God is not confined to structures, or mission statements, nor impressed by grandeur—it’s us humans that are seduced by the biggest, newest, and shiniest. We are wowed by size and splendour.
The writer Barbara Brown, in her book entitled, God in Pain, she says that disillusionment is essential to the Christian life. She writes: ‘Disillusionment is, literally, the loss of an illusion — about ourselves, about the world, about God — and while it’s usually a painful thing, it’s never a bad thing, to lose the lies we have mistaken for the truth.’
We might ask ourselves: In what memories and traditions do we attempt to ‘house’ God? We naturally cling to permanence, yet Jesus invites us to evolve. Can we embrace a journey of faith that includes rubble, ruin, and failure?
Tom Stacy’s favourite quote by the Dominican c.13 mystic, Meister Eckhart, was: ‘I pray to God that he may rid me of God.’
It’s purposely provocative. We are challenged to realise that our conceptions of God and faith will always fall short. Augustine said something similar. ‘If you think understand God, what you understand isn't God.’
We need to dare to let go of those gods we tend to form in our own image. To dare to see what Jesus sees. This open-hearted perspective recognises that the truth disrupts, the truth about God, ourselves and our church can be uncomfortable. It challenges us to grow and change. And yet the wonderful new here, is that the truth will set us free.
Having described the destruction of the temple, Jesus teaches his disciples what to do when the walls come tumbling down. He says: ‘Do not be alarmed’. Jesus insists on calm strength and generous love in the face of the apocalyptic. When nations make war, and people’s speech is full of fear, anger, and hatred. Do not give in to terror. Do not despair.
As we go through changes in life, make peace, choose hope, and cultivate patience.
For those who are living through dark and challenging times today, do not despair. It’s easy to fall into despair or numbness. Yet, now more than ever, we are called to trust in God’s presence in and through these times.
I don’t mean for this to sound trite, but we need to hold on to God’s healing love. As a community of faith, let us support each other. As our Hebrews reading puts it: ‘let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings…’
And may we trust in the promise that following the birth pangs of changes, something new will emerge. Despite the pain, Jesus assures us this isn’t an end, but a beginning—a painful birth that God, as our midwife, will bring to joyful fulfillment.
Reference
Debie Thomas, ‘Not one stone’, 11 November 2018.