The Wine Cellar of the Spirit and the End of the World
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Did you notice this morning’s Collect? It’s a very famous prayer, a golden oldie, you might say. Thomas Cranmer, the first Archbishop of Canterbury in the Church of England, wrote it. This Collect dates from the mid 1500’s and it’s known for its emphasis on the Reformation ideal that Scripture alone is enough to lead us to God and to bring us the opportunity for salvation. And given the power of the Word, we ask God to help us hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest it—to make it a part of ourselves—so that we may “ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life.”
I heard this past week on retreat that St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who lived in the 12th Century, said that Scripture is “the wine cellar of the Holy Spirit.” Just think of that a minute—Scripture as the Holy Spirit’s wine cellar, full of wondrous vintages that are sitting there for us to uncork and inwardly digest. So keeping that in mind, let’s uncork our Gospel and our reading from Isaiah and have a quaff, shall we?
Today’s Gospel takes us closer to the end of “Luke” where Jesus warns his followers of dreadful days to come. He warns of the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem—he says, “not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” And we know for a fact that the Romans destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem in their siege of the city in 70 A.D. And we hear the litany of dreadful events that signal the end. We hear this type of list each year at this time, whether it’s from Matthew, Mark, or Luke.
Wars, earthquakes, famines and plagues; signs from heaven; general persecution of the followers of Christ—all these things will happen at or near the end. And all are happening now, and have happened all along in history. That’s why people in every generation predict the end of all things every few years. One of the latest such prediction for the end is 2012, based loosely on an ancient Mayan calendar and on some vague prophecies with dubious translation issues by Nostradamus and others. Have you heard about that?
[If you want to know more, come check out this book I just got—it’s called The Complete Idiot’s Guide to 2012.]
So--what did Jesus say about the timing of the end? He told his followers that he didn’t even know when the end would come—that is only for the Father to know. So live well, live kindly, forgive each other, love each other, for you never know when he is returning. Or when our own lives will be demanded of us.
But in our lives NOW today’s Scripture about the destruction of the Temple is also relevant, even if we’re not living at the end of the world. How often do we endure the destructions of things we hold dear or sacred? How often are our lives turned upside down by earthquakes of a sort, and by metaphorical wars and insurrections? The loss of people we love, a terrible diagnosis of disease, friendships turned sour by personality clashes or misunderstandings, upsetting stories in the news that happen nearby or halfway around the world . . . we live through upheavals, too.
Let me tell a short story about one person who lived through such personal cataclysm in his life. This is the composer named Thomas Dorsey. He was “a prolific songwriter and an excellent gospel and blues musician.” [Feasting on the Word, year C, Proper 28, page 312] He was born in 1889 in rural Georgia. He moved to Chicago as a young man and worked in clubs and theaters and churches. Eventually he worked only in churches.
Now I quote from a book I have at home:
“In August of 1932, Dorsey left his pregnant wife in Chicago and traveled to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting in St. Louis. After the first night of the revival, Dorsey received a telegram that simply said, “Your wife just died.” Dorsey raced home and learned that his wife had given birth to a son before dying in childbirth. The next day his son died as well. Dorsey buried his wife and son in the same casket and withdrew in sorrow and agony from his family and friends. He refused to compose or play any music for quite some time.
“While still in the midst of despair, Dorsey said that as he sat in front of a piano, a feeling of peace washed through him. He heard a melody in his head that he had never heard before and began to play it on the piano. That night, Dorsey recorded this testimony while in the midst of suffering:
Precious Lord, take my hand,
Lead me on, let me stand;
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;
Through the storm, through the night,
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand, precious Lord,
Lead me home.”
[Feasting on the Word, year C, Proper 28, page 312]
Jesus worked through that agony that Dorsey knew, through that broken-down life where not one stone was left upon another, to bring about something beautiful that has given hope and sustenance to many people.
And that is one of the promises of God that we’re reminded about in today’s reading from Isaiah—this reading comes from the end of the book, when the people have returned from exile in Babylon and rebuilt their temple. And yet things are still very, very difficult. There are problems galore and life remains hard. They thought that once they got back to Judah everything would be rosy. But it wasn’t.
And yet, and yet, what does God say to them, but “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” And further, “no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in Jerusalem, or the cry of distress . . . people will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not labor in vain, or bear children for calamity. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox . . . they shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.” [65:17—25]
God is, in effect, promising the people a return to the Garden of Eden, before the fateful bite of the fruit, when all Creation was in harmony. It will be that way again.
The first fruit of this promise is the resurrection of Jesus, who died in abandonment and unmentionable pain, when everything looked as dark and hopeless as possible. But it wasn’t hopeless. He rose from the dead, and promised us the same. It was a return to the Garden, and a reclaiming of eternal life.
This is the essence of what we call the Paschal Mystery—that out of death God brings new life. That when things look dismal and as if they have fallen apart, God works to knit them back together again. And we live and move and have our being in this Paschal Mystery.
Listen to this wonderful poem about the Paschal Mystery, even if it never uses the word “Paschal” or the word “Mystery”. It’s written by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado, who lived in the early 20th century.
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.
~
“Last night as I was sleeping” by Antonio Machado.
[Translated by Robert Bly]
Beehives in our hearts—and the bees making sweet honey from our old failures. Isn’t that wonderful! That is the Paschal Mystery.
So may we walk through the suffering and the failures that interrupt us now and then, in sure and strong hope of resurrection. For resurrection is what God has in store for each of us. No matter how many bottles we uncork in the wine cellar of the Holy Spirit, the vintage keeps repeating itself: fear not, only believe. God is bringing new life from death, always and forever. Amen.
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