Luke 21:5-19;28

All it takes is a visit today to Temple Mount in Jerusalem to see the actual fulfillment of Jesus’ prediction in Luke 21. All that is left of the beautiful Temple the disciples were admiring that day long ago is a small part of the western wall. It is commonly called “The Wailing Wall” for around it gather every day devout Jews offering their prayers to God, inserting paper prayer requests into the spaces between the blocks, and praying for the restoration of the Temple which was destroyed in 70 AD. It is – in my mind – a mournful sight that represents a common part of the religious experience.

How hard it is for us…when Temples fall.

At first glance, you and I might simply pass over this passage from Luke 21 as one of those that lends fuel to the fire of those who write about apocalyptic end-of-the-world things. And no doubt the passage speaks to that. But there is more to it than that, for the people it was first given to were those who lived through the actual destruction of the Temple, and they heard Jesus’ speak these words in a deeper way that had to do with their own lives in that moment of time.

It is a teaching not so much about the ending of history…but about the falling of temples.

And it begins in a strange way – in the few verses that precede our text this morning.

Jesus and the disciples are in Jerusalem, outside the Temple, and people are bringing their tithes as prescribed by the religious law. The disciples are admiring the beautiful opulence of the place, and the majestic architecture of the Temple complex. To them, it is like the Vatican and Las Vegas all wrapped up into one! They’ve never seen anything as grand!

Well, somewhere along the line, a little widow woman shows up in the line of those making their offerings, and as she drops her two little copper coins into the pot, Jesus hears their distinctive clink. You see, poverty even SOUNDS different than wealth.

And Jesus stops his conversation. Pointing to the little widow woman, he says, “This poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave gifts out of their wealth, but she out of poverty has given all she had to live on.”

Now you and I have heard many sermons about the “widow’s mite”, and have been left with the impression that this is a story about generous giving. And it is. Sort of. And then again, it isn’t. Yes, the widow should be celebrated for her faithful generosity, but we should not let that fact obscure the real message of the passage.

It is about how the religious institution, represented by the grand and glorious Temple, with all its laws and commandments about giving, taking away from this little widow woman ALL THAT SHE HAS TO LIVE ON!!!!!  In our day, it would be like your or my elderly mother sending her whole Social Security check to some televangelist who has taken advantage of her faith and her trust.

And Jesus becomes infuriated. So he says, “This Temple will fall! Not one stone will be left upon another! Every one of them will be thrown down!”

And all you have to do is travel to Jerusalem today to see the result. All that is left of the Temple is rubble.

This is a sermon about when Temples fall.

If I could offer you one piece of spiritual advice that I know from my own life to be true, it would be that the Christian journey involves a life-long process of being set free from man-made Temples. These Temples often appear in our lives as the religious institutions and values that have nurtured us, but at one time or another reveal themselves to be not true, sometimes unhealthy, and often injurious to us or others.

Some of you know that I took an unplanned ride to the hospital in the back of an ambulance the other day. It had started out like any other morning, and I was enjoying a nice hot shower. But all of a sudden, the walls started closing in and it got dark around the edges. And before I knew it, I was crumbling to my knees, and crashing out the shower door, leaving me unconscious for a moment on the bathroom floor. Thanks goodness Sandy was there. I was pretty helpless. She dialed 911 and then helped me to the bed and into some underwear and a pair of pants. It’s been a long time since I couldn’t put my own underpants on.

And that’s the point. I’m one of those people who can pretty much handle it all. I worship in the Temple of my own self-sufficiency and don’t even like to ask for help. I’ve always believed about myself that I could handle anything.

But there I was – helpless and being cared FOR by my wife and our great first responders.

Many of us worship at the Temple of self-strength. But then illness strikes, or the company doesn’t need us anymore, or the one we love doesn’t love us anymore and there’s nothing we can do to get them back.

And the Temple falls.

But that wasn’t the first time one of my Temples came crashing down around me.

I was twelve years old when my mother received a telephone call from my grandmother telling her that something had happened to my grandfather – that he had collapsed – maybe a heart attack…

My mother quickly arranged a ride to my grandparents’ house, and before she left told my sister, brother and me that grandpa was very sick, and that he might die. She asked us to pray.

I remember running upstairs to my room, throwing myself down at the side of my bed and desperately crying out to God to not let my grandpa die. I offered God everything I had – my bad behavior which I promised would become good behavior – my future as a major league baseball player which I would give up to become a missionary – my coin collection, my woodburning set, everything I had I would give away to the poor… You know how it goes when you bargain with God.

And then came the word. My grandpa was gone.

And that childhood Temple of mine – within which I worshipped the idea that all I had to do was tell God to jump and God would ask, “How high?”, and within which I believed I could use God and my faith in God to manipulate my way through life, and insure myself against disaster, and change reality to my own liking – came crumbling and tumbling down that day.

Oh, it’s a hard thing for all of us – even 12-year olds – when our Temples fall.

They’ve come crashing down in your life, too, haven’t they? And these Temples are not just the personal places we worship, but often are institutional and are very painful to see crumble.

American slavery was one such Temple, supported by Scripture no less, and enforced by large segments of the Christian Church. You do know, don’t you, that the difference between Southern Baptists and Northern Baptists turned over this very issue? What you may not know is that it was actually not until 9 years ago – in 1995 – that the Southern Baptist Convention finally  acknowledged slavery to be a sin, and offered a long overdue apology to African-Americans. 1995! Now, I sincerely do not offer this as a criticism of my Southern Baptist friends – most of whom had nothing to do with those institutional decisions. But I do offer it as an illustration of how hard it is for people – and yet how necessary – when Temples fall.

In 1988, when Barbara Harris was ordained as the first female bishop in the Episcopal Church, many thought it was the end of the world. Traditionalists cited Scripture passages proving the limited role of women in the leadership of the church. Of course, they left out all the passages where women were shown as leaders. Never mentioned that Mary Magdalene was known in the early Church as the “Apostle to the Apostles”, never mentioned that one of the top theological teachers was a woman named Priscilla, never mentioned a woman named Junia who Paul tells us in Romans was highly regarded among the apostles. Some of our most dearly loved Temples, you see, are built only on half-truths. And that day in 1988 when Barbara Harris was ordained, some Temples started to fall and the Christian Church was blessed by God with a whole new generation of pastors and leaders.

In our own day, as we move from the modern to the post-modern period, we can see Temples falling, too. I think of one of our church members who says that faith was so much easier when all the rules were black and white and everybody else in the world was simply described as “heathen” and consigned to go to hell. Now, he says, his faith understands that life is hard and there are many shades of gray that he never saw before. And not only that, but some of his next-door neighbors are not Christians but they seem to live more Christ-like lives than some of the Christians he knows. How do we love our neighbors in an increasingly multicultural world, and how do we share our faith with people who have a completely different perspective? The old ways don’t seem adequate. And that looks to me like a Temple starting to fall.

So what does Jesus have to say about all this Temple-tumbling going on in our lives? Are we just human specks blown up into the winds of change? Are we left to live in the constant undulations of a world where it seems like the end has come, with nations rising up against nations, and kingdoms against kingdoms, and earthquakes, famines and pestilence striking our lives?

No. What Jesus tells us in this passage is that there is a good way to deal with the experience of falling Temples. Listen to what he recommends:

“When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near!”

When Temples fall, look up!

It is not religion that sustains us. It is not our institutional values that are most important. The only thing that ultimately counts is neither our religion, nor our institutions, but the God who lies beyond them. When Temples fall, seek God!

And in seeking God, Jesus points out, we will discover the plumb line that can guide us through all the confusion of change and transition.

Jesus tells us to look for redemption!

True faith is always redemptive.

It is about weak people like Marty Singley coming to trust not in his own strength, but in God’s strength. It is about those of us who want to tell God what to do learning to yield ourselves and our prayers to the will and wisdom of God, and always to the benefit of the other person. In this way, you see, like many of you, I have learned that is not always right to pray for someone to live. Sometimes it is right to give our loved ones into the hands of God and pray for death to come quickly so that suffering can end and new life begin.

That is redemptive faith.

Redemption is always about injustices being turned around, and lost people being found, and downtrodden people being lifted up, and the weak among us being loved and cared for. Redemption is about God’s desire to save the whole world, and to see others as children of God and our sisters and brothers.

Redemption is what we see in the life of Jesus.

Temples fell in his life, too, you know. But Jesus never took his eyes off the prize. He knew how important it is in the midst of change to look up, and to remain focused on God’s redemption. And even when the Temple of Jerusalem turned against him, he found his way.

Jesus once said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days, I will raise it up.” The disciples thought he was talking about the Temple in Jerusalem, but he wasn’t. He was talking about himself!

Because, you see, Jesus himself is the true Temple where you and I find safety and strength and wisdom and guidance and salvation from all that would hurt us.

The other Temples of our lives all must fall.

They must fall so that we can find our way to Jesus.