The Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost

This week a young client of mine told me he had a disturbing dream and had a premonition that something bad was going to happen to him. He’s had a tough year, so I understand why he’d worry about that. Have you ever had a premonition or made a prediction?

Here are some from the past: Thomas Watson, chairman of IBM, in 1943 said, "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers." There was an inventor by the name of Lee DeForest. He claimed that "While theoretically and technically television may be feasible, commercially and financially it is an impossibility." 

As the disciples walked out of the Temple in Jerusalem Jesus paused, looked back at the Temple and made this prediction, "Do you see all these great buildings. Not one stone will be left on another." To the disciples this was bedrock. Nothing could bring down these walls. "Look, teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!" they said to Jesus.

The temple stood at the heart of Jerusalem. It was the most prominent and sacred structure in that city. It also occupied the center of their culture. It was a symbol of God’s dwelling among the Hebrew people. By predicting its destruction, Jesus was proclaiming that the religious institutions of Israel had lost their life-giving properties and pointing to a new kind of temple in the Kingdom of God.

The temple brought traders who sold sacrificial animals and craftsmen who provided various ritual objects.

More than 20,000 people were employed there by the priestly hierarchy. How could such a significant edifice and the very foundation of their lives be subject to destruction? If this focus of their religious, cultural, and economic strength is demolished, what would be left for them?

Jesus’ listeners could not understand what Jesus was trying to tell them. He was talking about a new relationship and covenant with God—one built on love and not just regard for the Torah. He was trying to tell them that old ways needed to make way for the new. They did not get it.

We might construe this Gospel text to be nightmarish, but I believe that God would have us see it as the forecast of a dream. It paints us a reality beyond what is. What is now is not what God will bring in the fullness of time. This Gospel and the reading to the Thessalonian community are meant to encourage and support us as we hope, wait, and endure together until the realm of God is firmly established and we are all living in the new heaven and a new earth.

This text, taken at face value, is scary. The realities in our time corroborate for us the gloom and doom picture it presents. Wherever we land on the political, or theological spectrum, I think we can agree on one reality and truth: we need something new. And I believe this is true of the Church as well.

In the interim, God wants us to have a foretaste of that kingdom in the here and now. God wants us to at least stand on the threshold of a “new world.” To do that, just like the message Jesus was trying to give his disciples, we may have to let go of something old.

I wonder if there is any circumstance or situation in your life that longs for something new to happen, a new strategy, a fresh start. What “temples” need to be dismantled to make room for newness to come into your life. Some would call that the work of God.  

Let me suggest three simple examples: Ed Taylor shared some interesting information about what generation is seeking to find a religious connection. Gen Z, those born between 1997and 2012, is in spiritual search but not interested in returning to old norms—but rather about reimagining faith in ways that feel authentic, inclusive, and transformative. And many are attracted to the wisdom and life experience of the elderly.

A friend shared this with me this week: “One of my Italian mother’s best one liners was when Mrs. Tamsky called her to find out where her son and I were. My mother reples, “He come a home when he’s hungry.” That’s a metaphor for the search of Gen Z and others.

You may remember that famous line from the movie Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come.” But they won’t come unless they know about it! How can our Episcopal parishes, progressive communities with traditional worship, let the “Z’s” know we’re here? Might we work on that challenge?

Yesterday, the Episcopal Diocese of Western Mass elected the dean of our Cathedral, the Very Reverend Miguelina Howell, as it’s bishop. And in the Diocese of Eastern North Carolina that convention also elected a female who is a lesbian as its bishop. Would any of us have expected that thirty years ago? The Church let go of something old and something wonderfully new has happened.

Finally, right here in this parish, in order to provide safety for those who tend and serve at the Altar and bring the celebrant and congregation closer together, a new Communion Table stands in our sanctuary. Something old still stands—continuity with the past and something new has emerged.

I believe in the power of God to make all things new—whether it is the infrastructure of our nation, our city, our church, or our lives. That is the good news Jesus offer us this morning.

Think about this Gospel. Where we may think nightmare, God proposes a dream. Where we see an ending, God sees a beginning. Creation is not something that God did once and for all, but rather something that God continues to do everyday, all around us, and even within us, if we are willing to let something go in order that something new might be born.