Endings
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale
November 13, 2022—Proper 28C
Luke 21:5-19
At this hinge of the church year,
as we wind up the long stretch of the Season after Pentecost,
and head into Advent,
we talk a lot about endings
so you are all to be congratulated for showing up here today,
since, as a general rule, people don’t like endings very much
they unsettle us
asking us, as they do, to face into the unknown
to accept such unpleasant things as loss, and change
So we recognize the disciples’ dread
in the face of this week’s prediction of the destruction of the Temple
because that same dread stirs through us
in the face of every loss, every change,
every ending, big or small
The unknown always feels huge
I think we are particularly aware of that right now, as a community
as we face the transition in our music leadership
getting ready to say goodbye to David,
who’s been our organist for ten years
and search for a new choir director
after 34? 37? years of faithful service from Sandy.
It’s a time to celebrate and be thankful for all the gifts they’ve shared with us
but also a time of grief and goodbyes
of transition and uncertainty
We don’t know what the future holds
We don’t know what will happen; who will be sent to lead and accompany us
Will we love them?
Will they love us?
These are the questions posed by the unknown
(by every unknown that we face)
and those questions can be very scary,
unless we can somehow resist the impulse to catastrophize
(that’s what trips us up: the impulse to imagine only the bad possibilities!)
and take hold of what scripture actually has to teach us about endings
We resist it a little.
After all, when we hear the word Apocalypse:
our first thought is of destruction
Walking Dead; nuclear war; all those grisly end-times movies
caught up in the things that are destroyed
thinking that they are the point
But … Apocalypse is the revealing, the opening up
what is Jesus opening up here?
that all of the things we build to house God are impermanent
that no matter how grand or beautiful the building
the liturgy
the scripture or the theological construct
they will come to an end
They will come to an end
But then, just as the disciples, and we, begin to weep and to wail
Jesus dares us to do something … impossible
He dares us to begin to believe
that loss and impermanence are not synonymous with desolation
This … is not an easy message to take hold of
we are SO. AFRAID.
afraid of failure, afraid of disappointment, afraid of change…
we are, quite honestly, terrified that it will kill us
or at the very least, undo us
Because we can’t see past the loss
But Jesus here is pointing us to look further
to be brave
to stop clenching around the fear of the loss,
of the change, massive as it might be
and to trust that we will survive
This is clearly no small promise
if we put ourselves back into the enormity of 1st century Palestine
and what it was to have Rome destroy the Temple
They had already lived under occupation
lost so much, endured so much
and now, the center of their religious and cultural life has been destroyed:
the sign of connection between God and the people
the sign of thanksgiving, the sign of repentance,
the sign that relationship between God and the people
could be mended after it has been broken ….
is now in ruins.
Think something like the destruction in the Ukraine,
or Syria, or the Sudan, or anyplace demolished by war
India after the recent floods, the west coast after wildfires,
Florida after hurricanes
buildings flattened, cultural centers wiped out, common lives shattered
This biblical passage speaks into all those situations
speaks into every time we sit in the midst of the wreckage
of lives shattered by every kind of tragedy
every unnerving change
every terrifying unknown
And speaks words of reassurance
Seriously
Apocalyptic literature is always, at base, speaking words of reassurance
It begins by acknowledging our fear,
bearing witness to the devastation around us
and our deep, deep wish that things were otherwise
But then, it raises our line of sight
to see not just the destruction to come
or the destruction all around us
but also the resurrection
to recognize the loss of whatever we had held dear
but also raise the possibility that there is something else
something new
something we could not even have imagined
So, the disciples admire the Temple and Jesus tells them it will be destroyed
that the people will need to find a new way to be in relationship with God
and it will be terrible. But they will do it.
Judaism will find it in the synagogue,
and a deep and daily commitment to the commandments of Torah
Christians will find it in Jesus himself
Instead of a mighty edifice of stones,
that seemed it would last forever and yet was pulled down,
there will be him.
Flesh and blood, love and sadness, pain and compassion.
Living, breathing; giving, sharing; dying and rising again.
He will be our Temple.
He is the bridge between God and humanity,
between heaven and earth.
and he cannot be destroyed, as the temple was destroyed,
because they killed him and then he rose again
And he joins us in the rubble of our own lives
in all of the change and loss and failure that we wish weren’t part of it all
but they are
He joins us there
to remind us that the promise of a new future that we hear in scripture
in those beautiful words of Isaiah and the psalmist
are brought about by our own willingness to be in the present
as flesh and blood
love and sadness
pain and compassion
Living, breathing; giving, sharing
dying (oh Lord, yes, I’m afraid we will have to let all kinds of things die)
and rising again
For it is only by being HERE in such a way,
that we will find Jesus here in such a way
that will enable us to reach toward the future that lies beyond the fear
that sees only the destruction to come,
and take hold of the resurrection promise,
of the Apocalyptic promise
Of the promise and possibility that lie within every change
every loss,
everything that seems like an ending.