Sermon on Luke 21:1-19

It was 8:30 in the morning when my alarm went off. I had class at 9 so I had just enough time to get ready and make it up the hill from my dorm room. It was about 10 minutes before the hour when I walked towards the common room where the elevators were. As I turned the corner, there stood about 30 people in the room.

“A little early for a party,” I said. But just as I spoke, I realized everyone was looking out the window - a panoramic wall of glass overlooking New York Harbor and the Manhattan Skyline. The day was September 11, 2001.

  

It’s interesting because as I stand here before you, I realize that I’m in a room full of people most of whom fully comprehend the events of that day.

Maybe some of you were there, or somehow you were directly impacted through family or friends.

Some of the young folk here today might have been too young to remember, and of course some weren’t even born yet. How fortunate it is for those who will only come to know of its horrors through YouTube videos and history books.

I can remember when I was ten years old, I went up to the top of the towers for the first and only time. It was a camp field trip. I spent the bus ride up to the city pretending to be afraid that the bus would tip over so that my teenaged counselor would hold my hand to comfort me. I was no fool.

When we arrived at the towers, we just stood there and looked up and up and up. They went up forever. When we stepped into the elevator, it took off! It felt exactly like a rocket being launched into space! Seriously, I know what I’m talking about.

10, 20, 35, 40, 50, 65, 80, 93, 105, 106, 107, ding.

I catch my insides from flying out my head. The doors slide open. I begin to hyperventilate.

Turns out I’m really afraid of heights and the first thing you see when the elevator doors open is New York City from 1200 feet north of the concrete!

It took a little while, but I came around. Eventually, one of the counselors plastered my face up against the glass and made me look down. Ten minutes of that and I was ready for a good time! Feeling the building sway was a little weird, but I accepted the engineering genius. It really was an incredible sight.  

And as I stood there in the common room that day…   staring…  smoke billowing… wondering how many people were trapped, seeing people jump,

I remembered looking up. 

I still didn’t see it coming. The earth roared beneath our feet.

They were gone: the towers, the people. Gone.

“As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

The days, weeks and months following were filled with some of the greatest hardships that, certainly New Yorkers, but many Americans have ever experienced, at least until hurricane Katrina, and most recently hurricane Sandy. And in the years since, we have seen war and national uprisings in an unprecedented fashion across the globe.

Every day our news cycle is filled with concerns of nuclear armament and natural disasters.  The devastating typhoon in the Philippines is so fresh in our minds as we wait to hear the final count of the lost.  

You see, it is people like you and me to whom Luke shares this gospel message.

Jesus’ words in the text today are not just a record of a conversation, but a reminder of what has already come to pass in first century Jerusalem. Many among Luke’s audience know first hand about the temple’s destruction and the Roman suppression of Jewish revolts. Some have come of age in its aftermath and for others it is but history. In their day, amidst political unrest and persecution, there were those who persisted to claim, “The end is nigh!” But in contrast, the words we hear are Jesus’ call to live as faithful disciples in times of adversity, and the promise of Christ’s unrelenting presence among us.

It is an invitation to trust God.

It’s true though, that adversity is not just a global or national phenomenon like 9/11, a hurricane, or the destruction of the temple. Every person in their own way comes face to face with troubling circumstances of all sorts.

Health scares, accidents, injuries, unemployment, social and economic violence, you name it, someone in this room has experienced it or is caught up in the midst of it as we sit here.

These trials and challenges are real, they are painful, and it is too cliché to say, “every thing is going to be alright” or “every thing happens for a reason.” There isn’t a single sufficient reason why 3,000 people died in a terrorist attack or a hurricane, or why ONE child dies of starvation when there’s more than enough to go around. And IF IT IS God’s plan than we’ve gotta start asking some tougher questions of our God.

All I can tell you is that the God we have in Jesus Christ is not a God who BRINGS ON suffering but a God who BEARS our suffering with us, our God who takes our suffering with him on the cross.

Brothers and sisters, we have a God who in our most desperate moments absolutely refuses to leave us alone!

Recall the account of the poor widow at the beginning of today’s Gospel. She gave all that she had as an offering to the temple. The question still remains; was Jesus praising her generosity or expressing his frustration of an oppressive temple system? We aren’t in a position to judge that, but what we do know is that her poverty was real and we can assume that she trusted in God’s provision enough to give it all away.

I’m not going to lie. There are days, more often than not, when I cannot do that. I cannot give it all away. Maybe you feel the same. Will there be enough to pay the bills this month?

How will I take care of my parents AND my children?

Will this cancer go away? I don’t know.

I do know that in Baptism, Christ draws us ever so near to him.

And I know that by our baptism Christ promises to live in us so that we might live like Jesus to share the good news of his redeeming grace which sets us free from fear and anxiety and causes us to participate even more intensely in this world: to give more freely, care more deeply, to love more urgently and experience the love of God more fully!

Even when we don’t feel it, even when we absolutely disbelieve it, God…is… here! Amen.