St Luke’s, Havelock North – OS 33 2007 – Sermon

Readings: Isaiah 65: 17-25, Luke 21: 5-19

I’m sure many of you have visited Coventry Cathedral? As we know, it’s a cathedral that was virtually destroyed during the bombing campaign in World War 2, and as the re-building took place a single sentence was carved into the floor just inside the entrance – can anyone remember what it says? “To the Glory of God this Cathedral burnt”.

What a statement that is. If we can just imagine the devastation that the destruction of that cathedral must have meant to so many people – to be able to turn around and say that it all happened to the glory of God – it’s a stunning statement, in much the same way Jesus saying ‘do not be terrified’ is a stunning statement in the face of all the doom and gloom we find in our gospel reading this morning.

Although it’s not the only time we find Jesus talking like this, it’s not that common and it’s a long way from the more positive sounding Jesus who talks about healing and wholeness and life in all its fullness. But there’s a reason for that. If we look at where this exchange is set we find that Jesus has already had his anger roused since arriving at the Temple. He’s already condemned the money changers and the authorities who let them operate. Even more specifically at the end of the last chapter Jesus has spoken scathingly about the scribes “who love to walk around in long robes” and “devour widows’ houses.” Then at the beginning of this chapter he’s described one such scene, where a poor widow puts her last two cents into the Temple treasury.

And just when Jesus was already getting riled up, along come some sightseers, oohing and aahing over the Temple and how beautiful it is and that tips him over the edge. “The days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” An unidentified ‘they’ then ask him when all this will happen and what will be the warning sign for it, and he lets rip. ‘I’m the sign,’ he roars, ‘and it’s all going to happen very soon and it won’t be pretty. There’ll be wars and earthquakes and famines and persecutions and so on and so forth.’ In other words Jesus is talking about an apocalypse – and end to the way things are – maybe not now, but soon. It’s all very Old Testament – Jeremiah-like actually, except we don’t get Jeremiah alongside it this morning, we get Isaiah: ”For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating.” In stark contrast to the doom and gloom of Luke, Isaiah promises gladness and rejoicing. It’s an important balance.

Let’s remember that for those people hearing or reading Luke for the first time none of what Jesus is saying is that surprising, in fact they’ve already experienced most of it. By the late 1^st century they’ve already had a famine, they’re already experiencing persecution, they’ve already been shut out of the synagogues and the Temple has already been destroyed, torn down, every last stone. When Jesus says, ‘the days will come,’ they already have for those hearing it. For them the far more important part of the reading is where Jesus says, ‘do not be terrified.’

The technical term for the sort of writing we’re getting here in Luke is Apocalyptic Literature. It’s a style of writing fairly common in the scriptures and it’s always focused on an ending. In some places it’s the ending of creation – an Apocalypse with a capital A – in others, like this, it’s a more localised version – the ending of the Temple, the ending of a time of peace and so on. Almost without fail when we find ourselves reading apocalyptic literature we can assume it was originally written for an audience that was suffering. The overwhelming message of this sort of writing is that ‘these things shall pass.’ As Isaiah promises, there will be a new heaven and a new earth. The old things – these hard times, these bad times, these sad times – they’ll all pass away. There is a brighter day coming - Which is all well and good, unless you’re someone who’s actually doing quite well in this day and for whom the old heaven and earth is working out very well thank you very much.

There are some serious questions that can be asked about how we read apocalyptic literature, how we interpret it, for those who aren’t suffering. They’re not who it’s written for after all, or perhaps if we’re honest we can say we’re not who it’s written for, so does it have anything to offer us? There are some who want to say that it does. Some would want to say that when Jesus is telling those who are suffering to not be terrified, we might want to get worried. If the day is going to change for those who are suffering, it’ll just as surely change for those who aren’t, and the law of cause and effect suggests the change won’t be all that comfortable for the rest of us.

There’s some justification for that approach I think. I believe we who are not suffering now, we who are comfortable with the world as it is, should think carefully about what a new heaven and a new earth might mean for us. As our stewardship theme this week invites us to consider how we are Caring For Our Neighbours we might want to acknowledge that for some of those neighbours, both nearby and further off, the way things are that seems to work well for us isn’t quite so positive or helpful. How much are we willing to embrace changes that bring good results for those who need them most, often at the expense of we who are comfortable with the world as it is? They’re important questions, but I want to set them to one side for now.

“To the Glory of God this Cathedral Burnt.” I keep thinking about that statement. I keep wondering what sort of faith, what sense of hope, it was that made it possible to find glory in the midst of such tragedy. Part of the answer, I think, is in another statement you’ll find at Coventry Cathedral, outside this time, carved into one of the old burnt out walls. There you can see inscribed, ‘The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former.’ The best is yet to come.

That’s the message of Isaiah. As a result of the ascendance of the Persian Empire the long-exiled Israelites have been allowed home, but only a handful have decided to go. They arrive back to find a home in tatters. Farmland almost useless, their Temple gone, nothing in the way of infrastructure, but into that sense of desolation comes the promise of a new heaven and earth. An end to struggling, an end to tears, and end to the desperation that threatens to overwhelm – this is the promise a different sort of apocalypse again, an ending to the hurt – the best is yet to come. This is a promise designed to create hope.

But is the promise alone enough? We may not be suffering the way so many are suffering, but we all know what it’s like to despair. If we look beyond our comfortable little world and see the bigger picture, look at Iraq, or Afghanistan, or Pakistan, or Sudan – the list is a very long one. Where’s the hope in those situations? It’s all very well to promise a better day to come, but what’s the secret of maintaining a hope in that in the here and now?

If you’re waiting for me to tell you, we may have a problem. Trust me, I’ve looked and looked and I can’t find any simple or even mildly complicated answers to that question, except perhaps one.

Earlier on in Luke, just as Jesus is beginning his teaching in the Temple, a group of Pharisees come to him and ask, ‘when will the kingdom of God come?’ and Jesus responds, ‘its already here.’ Just as he’s about to go on to point out all the problems, all the wrongs being done in God’s name, all the evils being perpetrated by those who should know better, all the hardships and pain that are still to come, just as he’s about to get into all that, Jesus says, ‘the kingdom of God is already here.’

How do we live with despair and destruction? How do we live like those who believe in the promise of a new heaven and a new earth? By living as if they were already here – not by sticking our heads in the sand and pretending that everything’s ok, but by acknowledging and even celebrating the fact that despite all that’s wrong, in the midst of all the suffering and despair of our word, God is already here, and that somehow, someday, at some point, that will make a difference. Thanks be to God.