Ozymandias

In case you don't know, I have a degree in English literature.  I bet you're wishing that some of that would spill over to my writing. But every once in a while, something comes up that is and remains useful for me to talk about.  This is one of those times.

There's a sonnet by Shelly called 'Ozymandias.'  It's a simple enough story, a story of a king from a time long past who erected a structure, a statue to his own glory, and in it, wanting the world to know of his strength and glory.  But time, as it does, bears all things away, leaving only legs, and a broken face, along with the inscription which reads 'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.  Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.'  Nothing else remains.

That sonnet resonates with the readings we had for Sunday.  The readings where the disciples point out to Jesus to grandeur of the temple and everything about it.  The stones, the structure, the building project, everything that went into making that place magnificent, it's worth pointing out to Jesus.  Look at the wonderful things we have done to the glory of God!  And Jesus, as he frequently does, brings them back a bit, to remind them of priorities they really ought to have.  He may seem like a debbie downer, but that's the work of Christ, which is to do the work of both law and Gospel.  To oppose the proud and give grace to the humble.  Jesus reminds his disciples that there is going to come a day when not one of those stones is left upon another.  There is going to come a day when all these things will by necessity be gone.  Time will sweep them all away.  They will be gone.  It definitely happened to the temple, you know.  The temple, that building that the disciples pointed out to Jesus for its grandeur and majesty, that building's gone now.  Broken and smashed by the Romans on their way out of town, leaving it scattered to the wind and the desert. 

This is the temple of the Hebrew people.  Look on it, ye mighty and despair. 

Not despairing in the way that Ozymandias had in mind, but despairing for a completely different reason.  Despairing because even the works of the mighty are ultimately fruitless.  You can be as mighty as you want, you can be as in charge as you'd like, you can have it all together conceivably, but ultimately time sweeps everything away.  The great empires of the world all existed in an illusion of permanence, in that they figured that the way things were was the way they were always going to be.  They figured that their empire was the end of history, it was the last thing, the last stop on the railroad.  Egypt, Assyria, Persia, China, Russia, Great Britain, the United States, they all assume that they're the last stop.  And they're all wrong.  Look on the works of Ozymandias, and despair.  Look on the ravages of time, look on the wasteland that is all around, look upon the desert that is the only thing that remains, with everything else gone and swept away.  If you're placing your hope, your courage and confidence, in the things you've made with your own hands, then you will be sorely saddned by the lack of permanence.  Time is going to blow it all away, and there will be nothing left. 

So what to do, then?  It's a matter of alignment with the one thing that is permanent, the one permanence in a vast ocean of temporal things.  The one thing that can and will and does last forever.  Heaven and earth may pass away, says Jesus, but my words will never pass away.  Christ is above all this, above the ravages of time, above the works of the hands of men which are being borne away by time, above all the things that we believe are permanent, above everything we have Christ.  The one who was around from before the beginning of the universe, the one who rose from the dead to die no more, the one who exists outside time, the only one to whom entropy doesn't apply. 

Look on his works ye mighty and despair.

Despair of your own works.  despair of your own deeds, despair of what you have built and put together, despair of it all.  At times like this, where there are wars and rumors of wars, times when the world seems to be running down, times when nothing seems safe and everything seems dangerous, times when the things we have built for ourselves don't seem so secure, the civilization we enjoy seems less permanent.  The times when we are tempted to look upon those works and despair. 

But despair itself is temporary.  Despair itself has only the illusion of permanence.  Despair is going away.  In a little while, Jesus promises, your mourning will be turned to laughter.  Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  We do not grieve like the rest of men do who have no hope.  All these promises are there through the scriptures, where Jesus tells us time and time again what is actually permanent.  He tells us what it is that is forever, and it's not what we think it is.  It's not grief, or death, or separation, it's not the grave, that yawning abyss it's not any of that. It's life.  Life everlasting.  As we see wars and rumors of wars, as we see the famines and floods, as we seen nation rise against nation, as we see all of this, it reminds us that these works are receding.  And as the things of this world disappear, as the things of this world vanish and are absorbed by the wastes of time, the cross of Christ, his permanence, his eternity, stand forever.  No matter what else happens, no matter what else befalls us, we think of his words. 

Fear not, for I have overcome the world.