The writer of Luke seems to have had a deep affection for the Temple in Jerusalem. Luke’s Gospel begins with Zechariah worshipping in the Temple and the announcement that he and his wife Elizabeth would be the parents of John the Baptist, the forerunner of the one chosen to be the messiah. Luke is the only Gospel that reports Jesus’ visit as a young boy to the Temple and his meeting with the priests. Luke’s sequel to the Gospel, the Book of Acts, tells of the acts of the apostles and followers of the early church after the resurrection and begins with Luke emphasizing that the followers of Jesus were daily worshipping in the Temple and praising God.
Luke composed his books decades after the resurrection, and probably a few years after the destruction of the Temple by the Romans in the year 70. The years leading up to this cataclysm were increasingly turbulent and the Romans finally got fed up with putting down insurrection after insurrection, and with the brutal force for which they were known, laid siege to Jerusalem, totally razed the Temple, killed or expelled all the city’s inhabitants, and forbid worshippers to even go near the spot where the Temple once had stood. As Luke recounted the warning about the temple’s destruction that Jesus had given on the eve of his arrest and crucifixion, it must have broken Luke’s heart.
The destruction of the Temple has had profound implications for Christians and Jews ever since. The Temple had been a common ground where both had worshipped together. Upon its destruction this mutual center of history and culture was gone and Judaism and Christianity began to go their own separate ways. No doubt the Temple’s destruction contributed to the later hostility and suspicion that is also reflected in today’s Gospel lesson.
Heartbroken as Luke may have been, he did not interpret this tragedy as an irrevocable barrier or hindrance to the Gospel. Yes, this event like those that may yet come in history, are traumatic, but they don’t signify the end or negate the mission of the Gospel. Luke would still find it imperative to write his beautiful Gospel account, to proclaim the Good News and emphasize the wonderful mission the risen Lord had given the church.
We all can likely think of institutions that have lost their way, or become confused over their purpose, or unable to adapt to the profound changes affecting them and become pathetically irrelevant to human existence and eventually extinct. Luke is affirming that the church is able to adapt to change, and still not lose the energy of its central purpose. People of faith can continually reinvent themselves without abdicating their core purpose and reason for existence. Whatever the earthquakes of history, the church continues to discover its call to be a force of reconciliation among people, to affirm the dignity and worth of every human being, to be a witness to justice, a guardian of meaning, and an example of hope in this world.
Luke is telling us that change may very well be frightening, but don't let false prophets hijack your hope by giving up on the present or covering it over with easy answers that make it palatable. Precisely where confusion and suffering is prevalent, God is somewhere present, and we are likely to miss the signs if we let ourselves be drawn away either into despair or fantasy. To be sure there is a time to weep, but also a time to dry our tears and affirm life again. When hope mixes with history, there is a new vision and the vitality of a larger view begins to grow.
Luke talks about witnessing, but that doesn't mean standing on a street corner and issuing threats. We witness to the Good News by growing with our mission, not walking away or abandoning it, or simply yelling curses and threats. It is reputed that Martin Luther was once asked, “What would you do if you knew that the world would end tomorrow?” and Luther replied, “I would keep on doing what God has called us to do, today!” There is often a cost to staying put, but it makes sense in a very much larger context for us to remain where we are, not lapsing into panic or deserting into a comfortable irresponsibility.
We are coming to the close of the church's liturgical year. That is partly why the theme of the end of time is so prevalent in the lessons this week and next. Advent will shortly tell us to look over the horizon, beyond what we can hear and see, past what we know. The way of the Lord, the paths that open, the springs of water that burst forth, begin where the waters of the rivers of history and hope converge.
This is nothing new for biblical people. The prophet Malachi wrote at a time when Persia ruled Palestine, and there was widespread weariness in Israel and morals were lax. Malachi saw no definite light at the end of the tunnel, but he did understand a great gift of faith. “Those who remain faithful, those who do not abdicate or panic, they shall rise to changed circumstances, and the sun shall rise upon them with healing in its wings.”
