Sermon at Parish Mass, The Second Sunday before Advent 2021

 

David Roberts  (1796–1864): The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans Under the Command of Titus, A.D. 70

Daniel 12.1-3

Hebrews 10.11-25

Mark 13.1-8

 

‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’

After the First World War, people looked back and remembered the almost unbearably beautiful and idyllic summer of 1914. The golden summer before the world that they knew came tumbling down. The carefree golden youths who little knew that, for many of them, it would be their last summer.

Perhaps some people saw it coming. But it seemed to take most unawares. Historians can help us to look back and understand the causes of war and conflict, to trace the path by which these things come about. We can see in hindsight things that could have been done to prevent such disasters. But it takes a prophet to look forward and see them coming.

A prophet, in the Bible, is not primarily someone who makes mysterious predictions from another world. Prophecy is, rather, the gift of seeing clearly what is going on in the present time, and where it is heading. And, just as importantly, seeing the hidden powers that are at work in human affairs. This is why the cry of the prophets so often is to repent, to turn aside from the path that leads to destruction.

Jesus, in the Gospel today, speaks words of prophecy. Jerusalem is doomed, because its rulers would not know the way of peace. And at the heart of Jerusalem was the Temple, the most awe-inspiring monument of all, of which not one stone would be left standing on another.

What was the Temple about? It should have been, as Jesus said, a house of prayer for all nations. Instead it had come to focus and symbolize the oppressive powers at work in Jerusalem. It was a place of sacred violence, both in the cult of sacrifice and in its exploitation of the poor. It was the power base of the elite, and was hugely rich – but it never ceased devouring the substance of the poor, right down to a poor widow’s last coins.

Because it was a place of power, the Temple was the touchstone for all the simmering violence between the Roman occupiers and Jewish nationalists. It focused hatred and fear of the other, which taken far enough even enables you to kill them when you stop seeing that they are the same as you.

Jesus saw with clarity the tragic future of Jerusalem and its Temple. In the year 70 there was a rebellion by Jewish Zealots, religious fundamentalists who wanted to purify the land by driving out foreigners. They proved no match for the might of Rome and ended up besieged in Jerusalem. The resulting destruction and massacre of the inhabitants were terrible. They were all killed, and Jerusalem and the Temple were completely destroyed.

All this is in Jesus’ mind, when he says that not one stone will be left here upon another. But this was dangerous talk. Imagine if a radical preacher of our own day were to stand outside Parliament, or the Bank of England, and say, ‘Do you see these great buildings? All this is going to be thrown down.’

I imagine the security forces would pay close attention if they heard that sort of thing. As indeed they did when Jesus said it. Because, after all, it sounds like a threat of violent revolution, something that Rome always feared.

But Jesus is different. His message has been, consistently, that he is destined to suffer and be killed, and that his followers must renounce violence and love their enemies. The violence that he prophesies is not his, but what he sees already building under the surface of society.

The disciples come to Jesus privately to ask him more about the destruction of the Temple. They ask, “when is all this going to happen, and what will be the sign”. As so often, they have misunderstood. They want to know when the starting gun for the revolution is going to be fired. But Jesus says to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray!” There will indeed be wars, and rising of nations against nations, and earthquakes, and famines. But, crucially, these are not the signs that the disciples are to look for. And, if anyone says that they are, they are being led astray.

This is absolutely central to Jesus’ message. The violent convulsions that engulf the world, the anguish that afflicts the nations, are not the signs of God.

God is not like that. And that is so difficult for the disciples to get their heads around because for millennia people have been imagining God in the shape of their own violence.

But Jesus shows that love, not violence, is the ruling principle of God’s Kingdom. God in Jesus has come to those who do not know him, who hate him, who in the end will reject him and kill him. So that they can be forgiven. So that they – we – can be loved back into friendship with God and with one another. So that we can come home and live in the love of God who made us for himself.

Fear of the other chokes and poisons society. It has been the root cause of so many wars and atrocities. The Gospel shows us a better way, the way of love. And it is the only way of true and lasting peace.

Last week, I visited Colindale Primary School as part of a multi-faith day, in which representatives of all the major different faiths spoke to the year groups about what they believe and practice. And it was wonderful to see, in all the year groups, children of all those different faiths learning together.

The way of Jesus, the way of love, is not impossibly distant or hopelessly idealistic. It is offered to us, a choice that we can make, in the ordinary circumstances of everyday life. In the daily commitment to love our neighbour. To build bridges rather than walls. To rejoice in the diversity of our world and all its people. And by following the way of Jesus, by committing ourselves to love and renouncing violence, by embracing the other and building a society of peace, we too will become his disciples.