2022 11 13 Sermon

The Blessing of Impermanence

Pentecost 23 C

Rev. Karl-John N. Stone

Luke 21:5-19; Malachi 3:13-4:6

The train stopped in the wee hours of the morning. I was 5 years old, and we were on a family vacation, riding Amtrak cross-country to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins near Seattle. My dad got out of the train to stretch his legs on the train station platform. When he got back to his seat he said, “Here, Karl-John. Look at this.” He had filled a 35-mm film canister with what looked like gray dust. “What is it?” I asked. “Volcanic ash,” he replied. A couple of months earlier, Mount St. Helens had erupted, sending up into the air a plume of ash, stretching thousands of miles to the east, and depositing a good bit of it at the train station where we stopped in the middle of the night.

It goes to show that things we think of as permanent, unchanging—like the mountain majesties of the American West—are, in the great scheme of things, temporary. When Mount St. Helens erupted, it’s cone-shaped peak blew off in a matter of seconds, leaving a giant crater. I’m sure it was tempting for some to point to that eruption as one of the “dreadful portents and great signs from heaven” that Jesus talked about in today’s gospel, and to interpret it as a sign that the Messiah would be coming soon.

It’s an understandable impulse. When things in the world happen which make us feel like we have no control—either natural, or man-made—we try to find answers. Jesus even warned about this: “Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say ‘I am he’ and ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.” Be wary of those who offer “my way or the highway” certainty in themselves, instead of confidence that God provides a path through the unknown by following his way of grace, mercy, forgiveness, and faithfulness.

Jesus spoke these words of warning in the Temple in Jerusalem. At the time of Jesus, the Temple was truly a wonder of the ancient world. It was built with huge blocks of stone and long sheets of marble. Its courtyards could hold 400,000 people. Five hundred years earlier, their ancestors had returned from exile in Babylon, and set to work rebuilding the Temple. Just think of the dedication to craft of all the devoted architects, engineers, stonemasons, and construction workers, who spent their entire lives working on it. Think of the artists and artisans, over the next 500 years, who adorned the Temple with gold, colorful stones, intricate carvings, beautiful tapestries, and ornamentation. All of this was meant to point people to the glory of God; to open a window into what heaven might be like.

This beauty and majesty was meant to be permanent, to stand the test of time. And it did—for 500 years. Jesus warned, however, that “the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” And about 40 years later, that’s what happened. The Romans sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple, and looted all of its treasures.

It’s a bit ironic that we’ve chosen today to dedicate the new worship furnishings that we’ve added over the past couple of years here at church. Ironic, but also fitting. Fitting because the name of our church—House of Prayer—comes from the word of the Lord that Isaiah spoke about the Jerusalem Temple [Isaiah 56:7]: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” Ironic because as we enjoy the beauty and craftsmanship of these paraments and quilts, and of the hand carved wooden altar, font, and lectern received from Our Savior’s in Milwaukee, we also need to keep in mind Jesus’ words in today’s gospel. The worship furnishings are meant to be signs pointing us to God’s glory; signs of our dedication to God, and love for God. Yet even these things of lasting beauty won’t last forever.

Our lives, and the things our human hands and minds have created are by nature impermanent. And that is okay. That is how God has designed it. Because only God’s kingdom is forever. We each have our allotted time on this earth, and then we have no choice but to release all we have accomplished over to God, and let the next generations have their allotted time under the sun. The act of handing everything over to God is ultimately an act of faith: to let go, and let God.

So, do the critics whose voices we heard in today’s first reading, from the prophet Malachi, have a point? Those who say, “It is vain to serve God.” Those who ask, “What do we profit by keeping God’s command?” Malachi answers with a word from the Lord: “the arrogant and evildoers will be stubble, left with neither root nor branch. But for you who revere God’s name, the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.”

The impermanence of our lives and the things we create is ultimately a blessing, because it leaves us no choice but to seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and to open our souls to the healing that comes when we allow Christ’s grace and mercy to get into the broken places of our lives. Our congregation, and every congregation, may have people whose hopes have been shattered, and others who rejoice in the stirrings of hope in a new day. Wherever you may find yourself on that continuum, the crucified and risen Christ is with you, pointing you to a God who reigns over earth and heaven, regardless of whether a majestic Temple stands or falls.

The beauty we create with our hands, even if it won’t last forever, is meant to direct our hearts and minds towards God’s kingdom. And these beautiful things are signs that encourage us to endure in faith, through the difficulties and trials of life, by loving one another; by treating others as you would want to be treated; by supporting one another with an open heart when someone face illness, personal challenges, loss, or grief; by finding ways to be generous, keeping a humble heart, and being good neighbors. These intangible things are also things of beauty. Even if they are perhaps not seen, they are felt, and make people’s lives better in the here and now. This is how Christ builds a new Temple out of us, his people, by forming us into “living stones”, loving and serving God and neighbor, as we wait together in hope for Christ to come again. Amen.