Audio is here.
Video will be available here at the YouTube channel of the Central Presbyterian Church, Fort Smith, AR. after the Sunday service on the Traditional Services playlist.
Luke 21:25-36
[Jesus said:] “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”
There were a number of puzzling questions that the early Christians felt the burden of answering after Jesus was no longer physically present. They included these:
If Jesus was Messiah, why did he die? Messiah was, many believed, supposed to lead the nation to victory over the Romans. So, why did the Romans kill the Messiah?
Second, how did Jesus relate to God? Was he a god? Just a man full of God? Some combination of God and man? Diverse Christian communities believed in different answers.
Third, what is going to happen in the future? This is all the more difficult to answer because, by the time Matthew, Luke and John were written, there had been a Jewish war against Rome.
It started as a Jewish civil war but when the Roman army came to quell the fight, the Jews united and it became an all-out war with Rome. Rome won.
In reprisal, the Roman army left the Jewish temple a smoking pile of rubble. They carted off its treasures to Rome as spoils of war. Roman general Titus’ Arch of Triumph, still standing today, sports a relief depicting the looting of the temple treasures, like the golden menorah lampstand.
Telling the Story Afterwards
The gospel of Mark was probably written just before the war, but New Testament scholars believe that the experience of that war had a major impact on the way in which Matthew, Luke, and John tell the story of Jesus.
How could it not? Jesus clearly had issues with the temple; things he objected to about it and how it was being operated. He even enacted a public demonstration against it. It would be hard to write about Jesus’ opposition to the temple without being influenced by its subsequent destruction.
It would be like telling the story of an anti-Communist political figure from the 1950s after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the break up of the Soviet Union.
If you lived back in Jesus’ day, you would not have had to have been a prophet with supernatural gifts to predict that if the nation continued hurtling towards war, there would be a disaster.
And if it did come to blows, you would not have to have been a genius to predict that Rome would win. So it was not remarkable that Jesus foresaw the coming violence.
Neither was it remarkable or unusual to describe the looming catastrophe with bold, bizarre apocalyptic images like
“signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.”
In those days apocalyptic stories were popular. They often predicted the future coming with calamities and violence, described metaphorically with images such as the heavenly bodies being shaken, stars falling from the sky, the sun going dark and the moon turning to blood.
Some of that kind of language still remains today when we speak of major events like 9/11 as “earthshaking.” We all know what we mean. So did they.
The Temple as Symbol
In fact the memory of 9/11 may help us understand the impact that the destruction of the temple had on Jews of that day. On 9/11, it was not just that America was attacked and many lives were lost, it was also that they attacked the very symbols of our country. The Twin Towers were icons of our prosperity. The Pentagon symbolized our military power. The plane that crashed in Pennsylvania was likely headed for the Capitol with its obvious symbolic importance. On 9/11 the symbols of our nation were attacked.
Similarly, the temple was the icon of the Jewish people. Its destruction was both a military and political defeat plus a major religious crisis.
No longer could priests offer sacrifices for sin. There could be no more Day of Atonement liturgy. On Passover, the celebration of Jewish independence from Egyptian slavery, there was now no temple to make a pilgrimage to. Everything had changed.
A Practice for Our Times of Religious Change
In this time of Advent, so many years later, it is interesting to notice the similarities we share with the experience of those gospel writers. We have not gone through anything as horrific as the Jewish War, but we have experienced a great tidal wave of change in our religious culture.
The church used to be the center of gravity for a community. Now it is at the periphery. Religious participation, especially among the young, has plummeted.
The future is uncertain and scary. Whatever it will look like, clearly it will not look like it did in the 1950s when this sanctuary was built and this church was full. That ship has sailed.
So, how do we live into this uncertain future? Traditionally, Advent has been a time of anticipation, of waiting. In the literal sense, we are waiting for the celebration of the birth of Jesus at Christmas.
But we also take time out in Advent for spiritual reflection, anticipating the new thing that God will do in our lives and in our community, as we seek God’s future.
In this text, we hear Jesus telling his disciples, in their time of upset and change, what to do. This is the right text for us.
First, Jesus says, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down…”. Be on guard against resignation, against despair, against cynicism, against pessimism. Those are not the habits of the heart of faith.
There is no question that things we never wished to happen have happened, but we are not people of despair. We are nevertheless people of hope. We do not have to turn to “dissipation and drunkenness,” the vain hopes for self-soothing remedies that simply constitute denial. We do not have to be overwhelmed by
“the worries of this life,” as Jesus said.
So those are the end states to avoid, but how do we avoid them? Next, Jesus teaches the positive practices that can keep us from ending up in the wrong place. Jesus says,
“Be alert at all times, praying…”.
You do not need a temple to go to, which is good news when there is no long one available. You do not need a priest to do your praying for you. You have unmediated access to God. So use it, Jesus says. Pray.
What could it mean to pray at all times? It cannot mean walking around constantly muttering prayers under our breath. In fact, if you are working or even working at a hobby, your attention is required. So what is meant by “at all times praying?”
I believe it means living with a non-anxious sense of well-being that comes from a life consciously oriented toward the Divine. It is the sense of peace that comes from believing that you are in God’s hands, even as the temple burns and the culture changes.
It is the settled conviction that whatever is happening, you will get through it because you know that this world exists in God, and you exist in God, and that God is with you.
I believe this kind of sense of wellbeing, this sense of the presence of God is the fruit of spiritual practices, prayer being chief among them. In fact, contemplative prayer, or meditation is especially effective in producing this kind of calm or equanimity.
Contemplative prayer, that is wordless, silent prayer, done with the intention to be present to the Divine Presence has the effect, over time, of calming down our spirits. We become less stressed, less triggered by threats, especially threats to our egos. We become less reactive, less resistant to experiences of inconvenience or frustration.
Contemplative prayer, as Jesus practiced it, creates a sense that even though there is massive change happening, even though the future is uncertain, we do not have to be weighed down by worries. We can, nevertheless, hope.
The past cannot be changed, but if I could, I would love to go back in time and fix something that I believe was broken in those early days after Jesus was no longer physically present.
As Christian communities started devoting time to those vexing questions: “Why did Jesus die at the hands of the Romans? How did Jesus relate to God? What was going to happen in the future?”, I would have loved to have been in a position to say something like, “Hey guys, all of those theological questions are interesting, but none of them are what Jesus told us to concentrate on.
Rather, Jesus told us to be on guard, because there is a real danger to our souls and to our communities that the worries of this life could weigh us down. The changes and uncertainty could make us lose hope.
So instead of getting into theological arguments, do what is yours to do, so that that doesn’t happen. Develop a practice of prayer, and especially contemplative prayer. Orient your life towards the Divine. Then you will be able to stand up to whatever is coming with hope.
I believe that if the early church had been teaching her children, her youth and her young adults to practice contemplative prayer, instead of fighting over creeds, we would have had a different history.
We could have had our own theological convictions, but we would have been generous, allowing other people to differ without calling them heretics and excommunicating them.
We could have admitted that many of our doctrines are merely human attempts at defining an unfathomable God, and so we could have held our opinions with humility instead of stridency. We would have never dreamed of inquisitions, book banning, and heresy trials. Crusades would have been unthinkable. Violence itself would have seemed absurd.
Nevertheless, Hope
Of course, history is what it is, not what we might have wished it to be. But we have an opportunity now, in our generation, to get back on track.
We do that by turning our attention to Jesus and learning from him. He knew there would be difficulties, but he believed we could nevertheless, be people of hope.
Make this Advent season be a time of spiritual renewal. Set aside some time every day to pray. If you have not yet, then consider starting to practice contemplative, wordless prayer. Let it orient your spirit toward the Divine. Let it make you a person of hope.
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