Sermon from Sunday 16 November

 

Reading(s): Luke 21:5-19. This sermon was given by Ann Devereux at All Saints and St Mark.

Today’s readings probably don’t come top of the list of encouraging Bible verses, but they do contain some hope and certainty for us, living in uncertain times. Let us begin with a local story.

For centuries, the great Winchester Cathedral stood as an unshakeable testament to faith and English craftsmanship. Its Gothic arches and long, majestic nave were built upon a stable of peat and gravel, a foundation that had held for generations. But in the early 20th century, a terrifying discovery was made: the cathedral was slowly sinking. The great walls were cracking, and the very foundations were giving way. The unthinkable was happening; this symbol of permanence was under threat from below. It took a remarkable feat of engineering to save it - a deep-sea diver named William Walker, who worked in pitch darkness and murky water for six years, single-handedly placed concrete bags and shored up the foundations to make the building secure once more. What was believed to be unshakable was, in fact, very fragile, and required saving from an unseen place.

This morning our passage from the Gospel of Luke speaks of beginning in a place of awe at an unshakable structure, and ending with a promise that sustains us when all such structures fail.

Jesus and his disciples were in Jerusalem, standing within the Temple complex - a building designed to inspire awe - constructed of colossal white marble stones, and adorned with gold plating. Indeed, the largest stone found is over 13m by 3m by 4m, and weighs about 600 tons. It is one of the heaviest objects ever lifted by human beings, without powered machinery. It is an architectural marvel.

The Temple was a tangible symbol of God’s presence among His people - the centre of their universe and a place where heaven and earth met. It represented permanence, security, and divine favour.

It is no wonder, then, that the disciples gazed upon this splendour. “Look, Teacher!” they exclaimed. “What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!” In their admiration, we hear a very human sentiment: a state of awe and a sense of security in something visible and enduring.

However, Jesus speaks a word that is deeply unsettling. “As for what you see here,” He tells them, “the time will come when not one stone will be left on another; every one of them will be thrown down.”

One can only imagine the silence that must have followed. The foundation of their world, both literally and spiritually, was being declared only temporary. Naturally, they sought understanding. “Teacher,” they asked, “when will this happen? And what will be the sign?” Jesus spoke of wars and insurrections, of nations in conflict, of earthquakes, famines, and plagues. And then He said: “Do not be frightened. These things must happen first, but the end will not come right away.”

Jesus is reframing our understanding of turmoil. The chaos and suffering we witness in the world are not, in themselves, signs of a creation hurtling towards the end. It’s all very well for Jesus to say, ‘do not be frightened’ when it all seems pretty terrifying. We look at the chaos on the news - the wars and rumours of wars, the earthquakes, flooding and hurricanes, but Jesus says, “No. This is not the end. This is the birth pains.” Birth pains are not a sign of death, but of life. They are intense, frightening, and chaotic, but they are purposeful. They are leading us to something new.

The turmoil of the world could suggest the groaning of a creation in labour, awaiting its redemption but our call is not to calculate the due date, but to be faithful in the process. It might be helpful to remember that what we are living through today is not new.

Then, Jesus gets intensely personal. He moves from global upheaval to personal trials - the persecution of his followers. “They will lay hands on you and persecute you… You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends…” (v. 12 &16). It’s one thing to talk about wars in distant lands; it’s another to talk about family and relationship betrayal. Jesus is describing a world where the very things that are supposed to provide security - our institutions and our families - will fracture and fail. And in the midst of this complete unraveling, he says: “Make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict” (v. 14-15).

When the Temple falls, we are not to run and build another one. When our human securities crumble, we are not to search frantically for new ones, for our security and foundation is not in a building, a political system, or even in the stability of our own families. Our foundation is in the living presence of Christ, who promises to be with us in the fire, giving us a voice, and a wisdom that is not our own. This is not a promise of physical safety, or a prosperity gospel. It is a ‘perseverance gospel’.

Your identity cannot be taken from you. “Everyone will hate you because of me,” he said. The hatred is not for you, but for the one you represent, and your identity is securely hidden in Christ.

So where do we place our trust today? Perhaps it is our nation, our government or our economic system. We look at them and say, “What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!” And Christ whispers, “They will not last.” Perhaps it is our career, our reputation or our retirement plan. We point and say, “This is my security.” And Christ says, “Not one stone will be left on another.” Perhaps it is even our church building, our denomination, or our way of doing theology. And Christ gently reminds us that even the most holy of human institutions are temporary.

When everything that can be shaken is being shaken, our calling is not to panic, not to retreat, and not to place our trust in new but equally fragile ‘temples’. Our calling is to stand firm. Not in our own strength, but in the promise that he is with us. Not with a guarantee of safety, but with the assurance of life.

The true Temple, the unshakable meeting place between God and humanity, is no longer a building of stone, it is Jesus Christ. And by His Spirit, He dwells within His people. As William Walker placed concrete bags from an unseen place to shore up the foundations of Winchester Cathedral, we are called to be living stones and to build our lives upon Him, the cornerstone. And, when everything that can be shaken is shaken, we who are founded upon Him will not be moved. For in Him, we possess the one thing that is truly and eternally unshakable.

Thanks be to God. Amen.