Glancing back to Sunday
33Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
Heaven and earth won’t pass away. That’s not the meaning of Jesus’ words. The meaning of this expression in the ancient Mediterranean is simple: as impossible as it is for heaven and earth to pass away, it is more impossible for my words to pass away.
What will pass away is this age when children are found lying lifeless in the surf, and infants are buried beneath rubble. What will pass away is the world of tribal animosities and racism. What will pass away is the slash and burning of the rainforest. What will pass away at the cruel words spoken in homes and streets. What will pass away are the tears of the bereaved.
Heaven and earth won’t pass away. Neither will the words of Jesus. The words that call us to love our neighbor as ourselves. The words that speak mercy and forgiveness. The words that call for the sharing of bread and the welcoming of the outcast. The words that say “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations” (not “Go and make church members,” or “Go and make Christians,” but “Go and make disciples, students, followers of the way of Christ.”)
Jesus’ words will endure, the words that say “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” This age will end. This age of warring and grasping, of greeds and sorrows, of lusts and shames – this age will pass. But the heavens and earth will endure, the handiwork of the eternal: the rising and setting of suns, the swift motion of planets, the wash of waves upon shores, the cry of the wild, the beauty of the natural world, the mystery of life, the wonder of love, the laughter of children, the bonds of affection, the truth of goodness and the goodness of truth, it will endure.
This age will pass and all its discordant cries. But the creation will endure. And Jesus’ words will endure. They speak things that are eternal. They speak harmony. They speak life.