The Beautiful Lie of Permanence:

 

The Crumbling of the Golden Box

By Apostolic Fidelity


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Luke 21:5-11

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, "All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."

Then they asked him, "Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?"

He answered, "See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.' Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end."

Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky."

 

We are currently standing in the twilight of the Liturgical Year. The Church, in her ancient wisdom, always selects readings for this week that force us to look at the End. We are natural builders, you and I. We crave permanence. We spend our lives trying to construct things that will outlast us—whether it is a legacy, a home, a reputation, or a bank account.

In today’s Gospel, we find the disciples doing exactly what we do. They are acting like tourists, craning their necks to look up at the Second Temple.

To understand the shock of this passage, you have to understand what Herod’s Temple looked like. Historical accounts, including those by Josephus, tell us it was a mountain of white marble and gold. It was so bright that when the sun hit it, you had to look away or be blinded. It was the center of the Jewish cosmos. It was the place where Heaven touched Earth. It was the "Footstool of God." The disciples looked at these "costly stones" and felt safe. They felt that as long as this building stood, God was with them.

And then, Jesus—the Master of Reality—says the unthinkable: “All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”


When the Stones Fall Down

I have a confession to make: I am a hoarder of security.

I don’t hoard Gold or riches. I hoard structures. I build these elaborate mental and physical fortresses to convince myself that I am safe, that the future is predictable, and that my world is solid. I look at my savings account, my family routine, my health regimen, and even the aesthetic beauty of my local parish, and I think: “Okay. This is good. This will last.”

It is a very human thing to do. We are terrified of entropy. We are terrified of the chaos that lurks just outside the garden walls.

And that is why today’s Gospel (Luke 21:5-11) hits us every time the Liturgical calendar cycles around to it.


The Tourist Trap

Picture the scene. The disciples are acting like tourists in New York. They are craning their necks, looking up at the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

To understand their awe, you have to understand that this wasn't just a "nice church." It was a mountain of white marble and gold. Historical accounts tell us that Herod the Great had expanded it to such a degree that when the sun hit the gold plates on the façade, you literally could not look at it without being blinded. It was the center of the economy, the center of the law, and the dwelling place of God. It was the "End of History." It felt eternal.

The disciples say, essentially, "Lord, look at this! Look how strong this is! We are winning!"

And Jesus—the only Man who sees reality as it actually is—looks at this wonder of the world and says, with terrifying calmness:

“All that you see here—the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”

Can you imagine the silence that must have followed that statement? It would be like standing in front of the Vatican or the White House and being told, "In a few years, this will be a pile of rubble and goats will graze here."

 

The Idol of Structure

Why did Jesus say this? Was He a pessimist? Was He trying to scare them?

No. He was trying to save them from the idolatry of the container.

There is a profound danger in religious life, and we Catholics are not immune to it. We can fall in love with the structure of religion more than the God of the religion. We can love the smell of incense, the weight of the Rosary beads, the beauty of the High Altar, and the rhythm of the rubrics—all of which are good and holy things!—but we can mistake them for the assurance of salvation.

Jesus was reminding them: The stones are not the Savior.

In 70 A.D., forty years after this prophecy, the Roman legions under Titus breached the walls. They burned the Temple. The gold melted and ran into the cracks between the stones. To get the gold, the soldiers pried the stones apart, literally fulfilling Christ’s words: not one stone was left upon another.

It was the end of a world. But it was not the end of God.

 

My Own "Costly Stones"

Jesus wasn't just predicting the Roman siege of 70 A.D. (though He was doing that, and quite accurately). He was diagnosing the human condition.

We fall in love with the container, not the content.

I look at my own life and I see the "costly stones" I’ve stacked up.

  • The Stone of Reputation: "If I am respected, I am safe."
  • The Stone of Planning: "If I have the next 5 years mapped out, I am safe."
  • The Stone of Comfort: "If I have my coffee, my books, and my quiet time, I am safe."

But then, inevitably, the "days come." A phone call from a doctor. A sudden layoff. A betrayal by a friend. A spiritual crisis where the heavens feel like brass.

And the stones come crashing down.

When this happens, my first reaction is exactly the same as the disciples: panic. "Teacher, when? Why? What is the sign?" I scramble to find a reason. I listen to the doom-scrollers and the fear-mongers. I assume that because my temple fell, God’s Kingdom must be falling too.


The Mercy of the Wrecking Ball

But here is the "Apostolic Fidelity" twist that I want to share with you today: The destruction of the Temple was a mercy.

As long as that stone building stood, the people were tempted to think God was confined to a box in Jerusalem. They were tempted to trust in the ritual of animal sacrifice rather than the transformation of the heart.

Jesus allowed the stones to be thrown down so that the True Temple could be revealed.

  • He didn't want them worshipping a building; He wanted them worshipping in Spirit and Truth.
  • He didn't want them trusting in the walls of Jerusalem; He wanted them trusting in the wounds of His hands.

When the "temples" in my life crumble—when my plans fail, when my health falters—it is painful. I won't lie to you and say it feels like a blessing in the moment. It feels like death.

But in the rubble of my ego and my security, I often find the only thing that actually matters: Jesus Christ.


Don't Be Deceived (and Don't Be Terrified)

In the second half of the Gospel, Jesus warns us about two reactions to chaos: Deception and Terror.

We see this everywhere today. The world is scary. "Nation rising against nation" is literally the morning headlines. The temptation is to follow the Deceivers—the political messiahs, the internet prophets, the conspiracy theorists who promise that if we just buy their supplement or vote for their guy, the stones won't fall.

Or we give in to Terror. We paralyze ourselves with anxiety about the future.

When the external supports are kicked away, we find out what our faith is actually made of. Jesus warns us in this passage: "Do not be terrified." Why? because the falling of stones does not touch the soul that is anchored in Christ.

Jesus commands us: "Do not follow them" and "Do not be terrified."

Why? Because we are Catholics. We play the long game. We know that the Church has attended the funeral of every empire that has ever tried to destroy her. We know that our Kingdom is not of this world.

 

The Stone That Remains

So, where does that leave us on a Tuesday in November?

It leaves us with a call to inspect our foundations.

Go ahead and enjoy the beauty of the world. Build a nice house. Work hard for your career. Love your family. These are good "stones." But do not mortar them with the glue of idolatry. Hold them loosely.

If you are standing in the rubble of something today—if a relationship has ended, if a dream has died, if you feel like the walls are caving in—listen to me: You are not destroyed.

Only the temporary things are being stripped away. The Foundation remains. The Eucharist remains. The promise of the Resurrection remains.

Let the stones fall. We stand on the Rock.

 

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