May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight,
O Lord, our strength and our redeemer.
Amen.
One of my favorite storytelling devices is when a story begins at the end.
When a story begins with sort of a flash forward to the final scene.
So imagine a novel or a movie opening with an action-packed scene where the protagonist
finds themselves on the brink of disaster.
You are immediately drawn into this story wondering how in the world did they get themselves
into that pickle.
But just then the screen goes black or the chapter ends and a new scene emerges that
says three years ago the ecumenical group of people who decide what readings we read
on Sunday, the lectionary writers, must have had this technique in mind when drafting
the lectionary.
Today on the first Sunday of Advent, which marks the first Sunday of the church year,
happy new year, we begin the story near the end.
This year in year B of ABC, we begin with Mark's Apocalypse.
We begin the story of Jesus near the end of his life as he anticipates the destruction
of the temple in all the buildings in Jerusalem, this apocalyptic scene of the destruction of
Jerusalem.
Jesus tells his followers that it is only a matter of time, not even a generation, he
says, until the temple and all the buildings of Jerusalem are leveled.
The temple, remember, was the center of Jewish life.
For the Jewish people, the temple was the meeting place of heaven and earth.
It was where they went to meet God.
So now imagine the most sacred place in your world and now imagine someone lit a match
and burned it to the ground.
Jesus is there in the place of ruin and destruction where the story of Jesus begins.
So how did we get there?
Well let's go back 3,300 years ago on the eastern bank of the Red Sea.
The scene opens with laughter and music and celebration.
Miriam, Moses' older sister, sings a song of God's decisive victory over Pharaoh's army
when he crushes them in the Red Sea.
This is when God begins to follow his people around in a cloud, the original helicopter
parent, so to say.
But he wants to dwell with them more intimately.
So God instructs Moses to build a tent or a tabernacle where he can move around in a
more intimate way.
This arrangement works well for the most part.
God does get them to the promised land.
However, King David decides he wants to build God a house, something grand and grand where
God can dwell more permanently.
I imagine the conversation went something like, look dad, you've been driving around
with us in that RV for quite some time now.
It was cool at first, but now it's an eyesore.
We don't live in the back country anymore.
We're in prime real estate now.
You can't have an RV parked in the front yard like cousin Eddie did back in Canaan.
It was a Christmas vacation.
God replied, David, my son, I don't want a house.
Old RV is working just fine.
I just took it to the mechanic.
Got a tune up.
It's got at least 100,000 miles left in, left inner.
Plus, I don't want to be boxed in.
The flexibility of being able to get up and go.
You know as well as I do, the cousin Eddie's going to need my help early and often.
David goes on to say, listen dad, the real reason that I want to build you a house is
because you've done so much for us.
You've delivered us from Pharaoh's hand.
You sustained us in the wilderness.
You brought us to this promised land.
It's time for us to do something nice for you.
We want to honor you.
What do you see?
Eventually, God gives in and allows a house to be built for him.
While David begins on the initial plans, God will not allow David to be the contractor.
David's head is getting too big for his own good.
But God does promise David that an everlasting kingdom will come from his line.
David's son and successor, King Solomon, gets to build God's house, which becomes known
as Solomon's temple.
Solomon however, decides to have other gods over in God's house all because he's trying
to impress a girl.
It doesn't take long for conflict to arise in the house of the Lord.
God says to Solomon, look, if you don't kick those other gods out of my house, you're
going to be sorry.
Solomon doesn't listen and civil war breaks out in the land.
Israel is now a kingdom torn in two and becomes vulnerable to foreign occupation, to outside
the ways.
And after ignoring God's advice to kick out those other gods, Jerusalem is run down by
the mighty Babylonian Empire.
Solomon's temple is destroyed and many of the Jewish people are forced into exile.
After nearly a century, the Israelites are allowed back into Jerusalem by the Persians
who now control the area.
Under the direction of Nehemiah and Ezra, the people of Israel begin to rebuild the temple.
They have a few detours along the way.
But they finally complete it and they gather to dedicate this temple.
And so for the first time in decades, imagine that, for the first time in decades, the people
gather as a community to hear the word of God once again.
So after the scriptures are read, the Jewish people can be heard weeping for their sins.
They are filled with remorse over their actions and the actions of their ancestors.
But Nehemiah tells them not to weep but to celebrate.
The Lord has not abandoned his people forever.
The Lord has heard your cry for mercy.
He has come to your help.
So for hundreds of years, the people of Israel gather in this new temple, this second temple,
to remember the God of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the one who saved
them from slavery in Egypt, to remember the one who saved them and brought them home from
exile.
They also gather to anticipate the coming of another who will save them, the coming of
a Messiah from the line of David who will establish an everlasting kingdom, the one
who will make a house of prayer for all nations.
So over the course of the next 400 years, the Jewish people, as every year goes by and
the Messiah doesn't come, they begin to lose hope.
They start to split off into several different political factions.
Just as their ancestors learned, a house divided cannot stand.
The Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Zealots, to name a few, all have a different idea on
how to remain faithful to God, especially in light of Roman occupation.
The Romans are now in charge of the area.
Some think the best tactic is just to buddy up with Rome.
Some think the best tactic is to kill the Romans.
Others just want to stay out of it completely.
But so the temple, again, becomes a place of corruption.
It becomes a place where other gods are worshiped.
It becomes a place where the poor and vulnerable are taken advantage of, not by all, but by
some.
Using religious lingo, the temple, the house of God, is defiled and it starts to be used
for purposes not intended by God.
And so this is where Jesus comes into the picture, embodying the everlasting kingdom,
the kingdom of heaven promised through David.
Both literally and figuratively, Jesus' arrival turns everything upside down, sets off a chain
of events that will lead to his death and ultimately the destruction of this temple.
The good news of the kingdom brought to us in Christ isn't good news for everyone, especially
those who like kingdoms just as they are.
Before this heavenly kingdom, this everlasting kingdom can be installed, the existing kingdoms
are going to have to be brought down to the studs.
If you already like the way the house looks, you're going to do everything you can to stop
this renovation and a lot to do.
If you don't like the way the house looks right now, you're going to gladly endure the
rubble in order to see the new product, to see God's house established forever.
Like his ancestor David, Jesus wants to build a new house for God, a house that will last,
a house that will endure, a house that is stronger than stone.
But unlike his ancestor David, Jesus does not want to build a house made out of human
hands.
At his trial, Jesus is accused of saying, I will destroy this temple that is made with
hands and in three days I will build another, but not with human hands.
In other words, Jesus' body, his own being becomes the new temple.
Jesus will build this house from a heart of love, a love that is embodied through his
acts of compassion and mercy, a love made known to the whole world on the cross.
In this house, there will be no room for other gods.
There will be no room for corruption and evil.
In this house, all the outside noise that we are vulnerable to in this world that's
trying to pull you in a million different directions will be muted.
The house of God embodied by Jesus will be the only house left standing once disaster
comes.
Jesus embodies this truth we hear today.
Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
Jesus is the Word.
Jesus is the Word made flesh.
Jesus quite literally becomes the place where God dwells.
In the flesh of Jesus, not only do we see a God who desires to dwell with us just as
he dwelt with Israel and Tabbernacle, but we see a God who wants to dwell in our very
being, in our very flesh.
But before we can fully dwell with Christ, this body of Christ must be broken open.
The temple doors of Christ's body must be opened.
And on Good Friday, the day when the story of Jesus seems to end, it begins when the
temple doors of Christ's body are broken open for the world, for you and me to enter.
And each and every Sunday, we have a discipline to make when we approach this altar for Holy
Communion.
After the priest's host is broken, after we say Christ, our Passover is sacrificed for
us, we make a decision to enter into that body that is broken.
We make a decision to enter into God's holy temple.
We make a decision to leave behind a life where we seek our own glory and claim a life
where we seek Christ's glory, no matter the cost.
Now these lesser gods, the gods of entertainment and power and control and wealth and comfort,
all these lesser gods that we've allowed to take up residence in our lives don't want
us to go into that new temple because their life depends on us.
These lesser gods are trying to convince us to avoid that pain and suffering, trying
to convince us to seek our own fame and glory because these lesser gods only survive because
we continue to feed our ego.
These lesser gods are only as powerful as we make them.
But at the end of the day, these lesser gods crumble before God Almighty, before the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, before the God of Israel, the God of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Our survival depends on this God, the God who delivered the people from slavery into
the land of promise, the God who called the people of Israel back from the brink of extinction
and exile, the God who raises Jesus from the dead.
So during this Advent season, we are called to worship a God who is preparing a home for
us through Jesus Christ our Lord, the one who was born into this world without a home,
the one who invites us into his home in his body that is broken.
The one who's home endures because of the love that raised him from the dead on the
third day.
So I pray your worship of God, of this God during the Advent season, gives you permission
to kick out all those lesser gods so that when the temple doors of Christ are open in
your life, you are awake.
Keep awake.
You are free to enter into the glory of the Lord's house, a house that is impervious to
the fires of this life, a house that is built with an unshakable strength of love, a house
where you can dwell in the house of the Lord forever, a house where God can dwell at last
with his people forever.
Amen.