Sunday, November 16, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 21:5-19
When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, “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.”
They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?” And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray, for many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.
“When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified, for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes and in various places famines and plagues, and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.
“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and siblings, by relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.
Did you know that once upon a time, I used to be young! Seriously. I think some of you used to be young, too.
And I remember that when I was young, I had, like most young people, a feeling of invincibility and of endless possibility. I was annoyingly optimistic, and I honestly believed that I could do anything I set my mind to. Oh, it was a wonderful feeling. Do you remember?
And in my case, that youthful optimism was coupled with a particular brand of theology. My church taught me that if I just believed the right things and did the right things, then, in addition to my youth, I would have health and wealth and a wonderful life.
Well, I haven’t been young for a long time now. And I haven’t consciously held that theology for a long time now. But its roots are deep and the residual effects continued to linger, even when I was not fully aware of them.
So, it was quite a shock when, one day, my little sister was diagnosed with serious breast cancer. And that wasn’t supposed to happen. And then my nephew became disabled by severe epilepsy, and that wasn’t supposed to happen either. And then my father was diagnosed with dementia, and that really wasn’t supposed to happen. And cracks began to appear in the façade I had erected.
And then over this past summer, I had what was the first real health crisis of my life. I am glad to report that I am fine and healthy, but in the midst of that experience of testing and waiting, I was more frightened than I ever had been before. And the Temple of my invincibility and special protection by God wobbled and groaned and eventually collapsed. At first, I felt alone and unmoored. But then I began to ask again: what is my faith based upon? Was it the promise of God’s material and physical blessings? Was it the idea of a so-called “hedge of protection” around my beautiful life? Or was my faith actually built on something far more enduring than the Temple I had erected?
One day, Jesus and his disciples were in the grand Temple of Jerusalem. They had just watched a poor widow put her last two cents into the Treasury. Jesus tried to make that a teaching moment about what faithfulness in the midst of suffering looks like, but the disciples were too busy sightseeing to pay any attention to some old lady. They were distracted by grandeur all around them.
And who can blame them? If you’ve ever been inside a truly grand space, then you know exactly why they were distracted.
Josephus, a first century Jewish historian, recorded his own observations about this marvel of architecture. He tells us that the Temple’s retaining walls were made enormous stones that were 40 feet long. Imagine that! The stone platform upon which the Temple itself rested was twice as large as the Roman Forum and four-times as large as the Athenian Acropolis. The exterior walls of the Temple were covered with so much gold that when the sun shone upon them, one had to avert one’s gaze or risk blindness. Inside this grand edifice, there were 1000 priests all dressed in opulent vestments walking the halls, leading the prayers, making the sacrifices.
Everything about this Temple spoke of permanence and power. And because it did, everyone assumed that it would be there forever.
But Jesus shattered their fantasies. Instead of joining them in their admiration, he said: “Do you see all of this? One day not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”
And that prophesy was fulfilled in the year 70 of this Common Era, when the Romans sacked Jerusalem and completely destroyed the Temple in response to a Jewish revolt.
Well, once the disciples recovered from their shock at what Jesus said, they asked when this calamity would occur. But instead of answering their question, Jesus launched into an apocalyptic speech about the end of the age. Jesus said that before the end comes, there would be wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues, and strange signs in the sky. His followers would be persecuted and imprisoned. Families would be ripped apart. And some folks would actually pay with their lives. (Aren’t you glad you came to church today?!)
Now, when I first read this Gospel lesson, I groaned. And then I called a pastor friend to see what on earth he was going to say about this passage, only to hear him reply that he wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. “Life is hard enough right now,” he said. “People don’t need the Apocalypse on top of everything else!”
True enough, I thought. But the apocalypse is what we’ve got. And our world feels just as fragile as the one that Jesus described. There are days when it feels like this Temple of Democracy is about to come tumbling down.
And then, of course, there is the Temple of our lives – these carefully erected edifices. And those can feel threatened too. The pressures we all live under are so intense. Youth fades. Prices rise. Bodies creak. Relationships break. And so, we look for any way to shore up the walls of our lives. Some of us use religion as a way to try to protect this life that we have created. We want God to keep our Temples upright. But Jesus said: “Do you see these walls? Not one stone will be left upon another.”
But did you notice, that in the midst of all of this apocalyptic doom and gloom, there is an odd little verse that seems almost out of place. Toward the end of his discourse about wars and persecutions and suffering and death, Jesus said: “But not a hair of your head will perish.”
But how can that be in a world turned upside down? In the midst of all that calamity, including the prospect of death, what difference does a strand of hair make?
Well, I think it makes all the difference in the world.
Since Jesus first spoke these words, we have learned a great deal about genetics and the marvels of something called DNA. And at this point, the results are so precise that something as tiny as a single strand of hair, including the follicle, contains our nuclear DNA. And our nuclear DNA carries all the instructions for our development, functioning, and traits. In that strand of hair are the building blocks for everything that makes us, US - our essence, our essential selves. And that, Jesus said, will not perish, come what may.
But Temples? Well, they come and go. Empires rise and fall. We are born. We live. We flourish. We fade. We die. And that can all feel tragic if we believe that the Temples we have erected are the sum total of our lives.
When I was a kid, we used to sing a Gospel song called “Hold to God’s Unchanging Hand.” And the refrain goes like this: “Hold on brother, to God’s unchanging hand. Hold on sister, to God’s unchanging hand. Build your hope on things eternal and hold on to God’s unchanging hand.”
What else can we do? What else should we do, but trust ourselves, body and soul, to our faithful Savior who has promised that we will not perish?
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 21:5-19
When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, “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.”
They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?” And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray, for many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.
“When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified, for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes and in various places famines and plagues, and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.
“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and siblings, by relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.
Did you know that once upon a time, I used to be young! Seriously. I think some of you used to be young, too.
And I remember that when I was young, I had, like most young people, a feeling of invincibility and of endless possibility. I was annoyingly optimistic, and I honestly believed that I could do anything I set my mind to. Oh, it was a wonderful feeling. Do you remember?
And in my case, that youthful optimism was coupled with a particular brand of theology. My church taught me that if I just believed the right things and did the right things, then, in addition to my youth, I would have health and wealth and a wonderful life.
Well, I haven’t been young for a long time now. And I haven’t consciously held that theology for a long time now. But its roots are deep and the residual effects continued to linger, even when I was not fully aware of them.
So, it was quite a shock when, one day, my little sister was diagnosed with serious breast cancer. And that wasn’t supposed to happen. And then my nephew became disabled by severe epilepsy, and that wasn’t supposed to happen either. And then my father was diagnosed with dementia, and that really wasn’t supposed to happen. And cracks began to appear in the façade I had erected.
And then over this past summer, I had what was the first real health crisis of my life. I am glad to report that I am fine and healthy, but in the midst of that experience of testing and waiting, I was more frightened than I ever had been before. And the Temple of my invincibility and special protection by God wobbled and groaned and eventually collapsed. At first, I felt alone and unmoored. But then I began to ask again: what is my faith based upon? Was it the promise of God’s material and physical blessings? Was it the idea of a so-called “hedge of protection” around my beautiful life? Or was my faith actually built on something far more enduring than the Temple I had erected?
One day, Jesus and his disciples were in the grand Temple of Jerusalem. They had just watched a poor widow put her last two cents into the Treasury. Jesus tried to make that a teaching moment about what faithfulness in the midst of suffering looks like, but the disciples were too busy sightseeing to pay any attention to some old lady. They were distracted by grandeur all around them.
And who can blame them? If you’ve ever been inside a truly grand space, then you know exactly why they were distracted.
Josephus, a first century Jewish historian, recorded his own observations about this marvel of architecture. He tells us that the Temple’s retaining walls were made enormous stones that were 40 feet long. Imagine that! The stone platform upon which the Temple itself rested was twice as large as the Roman Forum and four-times as large as the Athenian Acropolis. The exterior walls of the Temple were covered with so much gold that when the sun shone upon them, one had to avert one’s gaze or risk blindness. Inside this grand edifice, there were 1000 priests all dressed in opulent vestments walking the halls, leading the prayers, making the sacrifices.
Everything about this Temple spoke of permanence and power. And because it did, everyone assumed that it would be there forever.
But Jesus shattered their fantasies. Instead of joining them in their admiration, he said: “Do you see all of this? One day not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”
And that prophesy was fulfilled in the year 70 of this Common Era, when the Romans sacked Jerusalem and completely destroyed the Temple in response to a Jewish revolt.
Well, once the disciples recovered from their shock at what Jesus said, they asked when this calamity would occur. But instead of answering their question, Jesus launched into an apocalyptic speech about the end of the age. Jesus said that before the end comes, there would be wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues, and strange signs in the sky. His followers would be persecuted and imprisoned. Families would be ripped apart. And some folks would actually pay with their lives. (Aren’t you glad you came to church today?!)
Now, when I first read this Gospel lesson, I groaned. And then I called a pastor friend to see what on earth he was going to say about this passage, only to hear him reply that he wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. “Life is hard enough right now,” he said. “People don’t need the Apocalypse on top of everything else!”
True enough, I thought. But the apocalypse is what we’ve got. And our world feels just as fragile as the one that Jesus described. There are days when it feels like this Temple of Democracy is about to come tumbling down.
And then, of course, there is the Temple of our lives – these carefully erected edifices. And those can feel threatened too. The pressures we all live under are so intense. Youth fades. Prices rise. Bodies creak. Relationships break. And so, we look for any way to shore up the walls of our lives. Some of us use religion as a way to try to protect this life that we have created. We want God to keep our Temples upright. But Jesus said: “Do you see these walls? Not one stone will be left upon another.”
But did you notice, that in the midst of all of this apocalyptic doom and gloom, there is an odd little verse that seems almost out of place. Toward the end of his discourse about wars and persecutions and suffering and death, Jesus said: “But not a hair of your head will perish.”
But how can that be in a world turned upside down? In the midst of all that calamity, including the prospect of death, what difference does a strand of hair make?
Well, I think it makes all the difference in the world.
Since Jesus first spoke these words, we have learned a great deal about genetics and the marvels of something called DNA. And at this point, the results are so precise that something as tiny as a single strand of hair, including the follicle, contains our nuclear DNA. And our nuclear DNA carries all the instructions for our development, functioning, and traits. In that strand of hair are the building blocks for everything that makes us, US - our essence, our essential selves. And that, Jesus said, will not perish, come what may.
But Temples? Well, they come and go. Empires rise and fall. We are born. We live. We flourish. We fade. We die. And that can all feel tragic if we believe that the Temples we have erected are the sum total of our lives.
When I was a kid, we used to sing a Gospel song called “Hold to God’s Unchanging Hand.” And the refrain goes like this: “Hold on brother, to God’s unchanging hand. Hold on sister, to God’s unchanging hand. Build your hope on things eternal and hold on to God’s unchanging hand.”
What else can we do? What else should we do, but trust ourselves, body and soul, to our faithful Savior who has promised that we will not perish?
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