"Movement of God's People"

Sermon by The Rev. Seth Olson

November 13, 2022

Holy God, Enduring One, the Alpha and the Omega, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

This week I had the absolute gift of attending some continuing education. This retreat—Discerning Leadership for Redeveloping Congregations—is put on by the Episcopal Church for those wondering about how the Spirit might be moving to build vibrant communities, especially beyond Covid-tide. I am grateful that my colleagues, this parish, and my family supported me in attending to this important work. I consider this work holy—sacred to this community and to the larger diocesan community where I serve as the chair of the Department of Parish Development and Evangelism. I share this with you because this retreat adjusted my lens of viewing this Gospel lesson for today. 

I will get to Jesus’ prognosticating about the toppling of the temple in a moment, but first, I’m wondering, have you seen Lorna Davis’ TED Talk? She is a businesswoman who has worked as CEO of companies across the world. In her message called, “A Guide to Collaborative Leadership,” she describes the typical way of going about leading in Western society. Someone well dressed—maybe in a power suit of some sort—gets up and sells everyone within a company or a community on their vision. There’s some clapping afterward, and initial excitement. Everyone buys into the vision for a bit. However, rarely, does the entire community get on board.

Davis described a scenario when she was leading the Chinese arm of Craft Foods. All the meetings were in English, even though that was very few team-member’s native tongue. They all went along with the vision of Davis, but their product launches were largely unsuccessful. Then, a shift occurred. Davis shifted the language of the meetings to Chinese and invited every team member to share their opinion. The results were markedly different—and if you are a fan of Green Tea flavored Oreos, you can thank these meetings for their origination.

In this example, we can see an important shift away from the heroism of selling people on a vision and towards wondering, what can we do together? What might emerge if we listen to one another—to the larger community? Where might we go together? Which brings me back to the Temple.



When those with Jesus entered the Temple, it was a sight to behold. Luke really doesn’t do it justice. Herod the Great had sparred no expense! White marble adorned parts of the inner temple—up to sixty-seven feet long. Blue, scarlet, and purple Babylonian tapestries draped the entrance to the holy of holies. Gold- and silver-plated gates guarded the way into the Temple.[1] It was very nice! This project was important to the worship of the Jewish people; however, it was the pet project of those who were in power—politically, culturally, and religiously. Thus, even though there were many who were starving at those gold-plated gates, this was the work that the heroes sold as the most important thing the community could do.

Those with Jesus took note of how beautiful this Temple was, but the teacher saw beyond the silver and marble. He knew that soon enough even this important and beautiful place would not be standing—it would be destroyed such that not a stone would be left upon another.

Jesus was immediately quizzed by those around him, not if this would happen, but when and how they would know it was happening. First, Jesus warned against following those who claimed to know the timing of the impending destruction. Then, he pointed to horrific events—wars, famine, natural disaster—things that we do not have to look too far to see in our own world. But, the more pressing apocalyptic indicator was when persecutions would happen for following in the way of Jesus. The followers of this way would even face opposition from family and friends. Some would even taste death because of this affiliation.

These words are hard to hear. Not only because the stories of martyrs in ages past and present break our heart, but also because we may start to wonder, Jesus when you spoke about holy walls toppling, were you talking about our beloved churches too? The hymn “All My Hope On God Is Founded” possesses one of the most poignant stanzas in any of our hymnody, “Mortal pride and earthly glory, sword and crown betray our trust; though with care and toil we build them, tower and temple fall to dust. But God's power, hour by hour, is my temple and my tower.” (The Hymnal 1982, Hymn 665) God, forbid that here. This place is holy. Soaked with the prayers of almost seventy-five years. I’ve shed tears here. I’ve filmed silly videos—like the cassock challenge—right over there. The beloved soul about to join my family—I hope she’ll be baptized in that gorgeous font. I do not want anything to happen to this beloved space. However, the pandemic taught us that the church—the Community of All Saints—is not a building—it’s a people. It never has been just a building—it’s not now—it never will be. The church left the building during the Pandemic, and while that scares many of us (including me), that is a good thing—a very good thing.

What happens in here each week is food for the journey. It’s practicing the way the world could be. We process in, we pray, we sing God’s praise, we hear God’s Word, we ask and receive forgiveness, we are fed as the Body of Christ with the Body of Christ, then we process out into the world. That last piece is important. You may not think about it, but when you walk out, you are part of the procession. You are going out in peace to love and serve the Lord.

The going out is of utmost importance. You are going as a beloved member of this community to serve all those other communities to which you belong—your school, your offices, your civic organizations; your family, your friends, your neighborhood; your trivia team, your R/C flying squad, your running group… your people. However, you are not going out to be a hero. You are going to be a part of those communities, as leaven to help others rise, as light to illuminate all that God is already doing, as love that binds us one to another.

Sometimes when we process out into the problems of this world, we might falsely believe that together we are not enough. We might mistakenly think that we do not collectively have enough. We might even buy into the half-truth that it’s too difficult to find any good news. None of this is true when we realize we have each other. May we be reminded of what is true, as said so succinctly in the last line from Wendell Berry’s poem “The Wild Geese,” What we need is here.

What we need is here—within the communities to which we already belong, what we need is here!

What we need is here. May we see that truth in this community of All Saints, the communities to which we belong, and in the beloved community of God. Because it’s not the size of the steeple, but the movement of God’s people.