“Are we there yet?” What parent hasn’t heard that question from the back seat of your car? And, how do you answer the question? Of course, the real question being asked is not, “Are we there?” but “When will we get there?” And, how do you answer? You could look at your GPS and give the exact mileage and estimated time of arrival, but that’s of little help to a young child who doesn’t have any concept of distance or time. These little pieces of adult information have no meaning for the child, no matter how precise and accurate they may be. The best answer uses different language. “Soon. We’ll be there soon,” the caring parent says. Or, “Just a little bit longer. We’re almost there.” This answer isn’t very scientific and hardly specific, but it is the language of comfort, of assurance, of continued confidence to be patient and watchful, letting the child know that there is an end to this journey, that they are making progress toward the end, and that the parents in the front seat are in complete control of this mysterious trek. It is language that will inspire trust and instill hope. And, then you probably encourage your child to pay attention as you point out new things on the journey – beautiful scenery, a herd of deer grazing near the road or a new town that he/she has never seen before.
As we come to the end of yet another liturgical year, we are reminded that we’re all on a journey – the journey of our lives – and that, there is an end for each of us. In fact, we know that all things – everything we know here on earth – will come to an end. We know that our bodies will eventually wear out, our health will fail, and we will die. We can do everything possible to forestall this, but it is inevitable. All of the time in the gym and all of the bran cereal we eat at breakfast will not keep us from death. The ongoing threat of the coronavirus in our midst has forced many of us to face death in ways that we would rather avoid, hasn’t it!?!
On the other hand, sometimes the awareness that things end brings us comfort and hope. As we suffer from a cold, for example, it helps to know that these aches and pains will not last forever; they will soon end. And, if we struggle with the discord in our world, it helps to know that, as we heard so poetically presented in today’s first reading, during a time unsurpassed in distress, all who have been faithful to God and his ways will escape and be like the stars forever.
Our Gospel passage echoes this same message. It’s helpful to know that today’s reading follows just after the disciples of Jesus had been marveling at the great stones and architectural beauty of the Temple in Jerusalem. You will recall from last week that Jesus had been with his disciples in the Temple where they observed the scribes and the widow contributing to the upkeep of the Temple. And indeed, it was a marvel to behold. Built by King Herod over the course of 46 years, and just recently completed, this new temple rivaled the one that Solomon had built centuries earlier. I thought of this temple when I visited the new Freedom Tower in New York City; you may have gone to see it yourself. As you know, it has been built in the very area – but even higher than – the World Trade Center towers destroyed by terrorists, just as Herod had rebuilt the sacred Temple on the very spot where Solomon’s Temple had stood before it was destroyed by the terrorists of their day – the Babylonians. It was a sign to the people of Jesus’ time that their sacred space had been restored to even greater glory, that the enemies of Israel would not ultimately win, that God would protect and dwell in the midst of his people forever.
But, as the disciples were marveling at the structure, Jesus shocked them with the prediction that very soon this magnificent building and these immense stones would be leveled, once again. For the disciples, it was a jarring and unwelcome prophecy, and it seemed so hard to fathom at the time. Of course, we know from history that just 40 years after Jesus made this prophetic declaration, the Romans would destroy the Temple and, indeed, the entire city of Jerusalem. Nothing manmade is permanent. Nothing. Not even New York City. The end is built in from the beginning. That’s the nature of our world, of our physical universe.
But, we are privileged to learn from Jesus that there is a world beyond our own. Just as there is something around the corner for your child in the back seat, so there is something beyond this life for all of us. As we hear Jesus assure his disciples in today’s Gospel, all of this will happen in anticipation of the coming of the Son of Man, who will come in clouds, with great power and glory, to gather his elect from the ends of the earth. You will recall that the Israelites had previously experienced God coming in power in clouds – when he appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai and as he led his people away from the oppressive power of the Egyptians in the Exodus. And, some of the disciples of Jesus had seen God appear in power in clouds at the Transfiguration in anticipation of our Lord’s death at the hands of the Romans and his resurrection from the dead. So, they understood the meaning of this image. All other powers will fail at this point because the Son of Man will take possession of his kingdom in its fullness.
Using apocalyptic language, Jesus is giving his disciples – and us – a word of hope and encouragement. Of course, like your child in the back seat of your car, the disciples wanted to know exactly when all of this would occur. And like the wise parent, Jesus answers with comforting words, using the image of a fig tree; an image they would all understand. “Learn a lesson from the fig tree,” he says. “When its branches become tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates.”
One day, our lives will end. One day, the world will end. One day, evil will crumble and the Eternal Good will prevail. One day, this, our journey of life, will make perfect sense and we – the wise – will shine brightly and be like the stars forever. Are we there yet? Not yet, but we will be there soon. So, just be patient. And, keep looking out the window, and over the horizon. Pay attention to the journey, for it is not wasted time and you will learn new things. And, above all, trust the one who is driving the car, the One in charge of the entire journey. He knows where we are going, and only He is driving the car. The rest of us are passengers, safe in the back seat.
As we approach the end of this liturgical year and prepare to celebrate next week the Solemnity of our Lord, Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, we are reminded that everything we experience on earth – good and bad – is transitory. We are challenged to recognize, once again, that our hearts must be set on the only reality that will last – the Kingdom of God. And, as Jesus reminds us, even the Son of Man does not know when this will happen, but he does stress one very essential point: heaven and earth will pass away, but his words will never pass. Let us listen carefully to his words and follow him, the Way, the Truth and the Life. Like your child in the back seat, let us pay attention to the journey. Everything else will fail; only those who follow him – those whose names are written in the book of life, as we hear in today’s first reading and we see depicted on the stained glass window in the back of church – will endure and, in the end, will reach the end of our journey in God’s everlasting Kingdom.