The Cinderella Church

"Who is here among you that remembers this house in its former glory?“ Most of you, right?

Do you remember how things were, a couple of months into the rebuilding process, when the debris had been cleared away but the rebuilding hadn’t really begun yet. The shock of the fire and the adrenaline of deciding to rebuild had worn off. The ground was bare, everyone’s energy was going into fund-raising efforts, the endless bureaucratic nitpicking that goes into getting building permits and all the rest of the paperwork was taking its toll, and the foundations had yet to be laid for the new building. Do you remember all that?

If you do, you probably have a pretty fair start on understanding how the people of Jerusalem felt that fall. It was just after the feast of Tabernacles, the fall harvest festival, in the second year of King Darius. That’s 520 BC to those of you who don’t have the dates of the Persian Kings by heart. Mind you, it had been sixteen years since the Persian King Cyrus had let the exiles in Babylon go back to Jerusalem, and they still hadn’t finished rebuilding, but let’s be fair. Most of the exiles - especially the successful, prosperous, ones - had stayed back in Babylon. They were having to rebuild not only the temple, but a new economy and a new culture. City dwellers for the last fifty years, they were having to relearn farming in Judea’s never very fertile soil. The harvests had been poor, the infrastructure was nonexistent, and their new neighbors, especially the Samaritans, were hostile. So all they did in those years was to rebuild the altar and offer a few half-hearted sacrifices. And then during the two years after Cyrus’s death, the usual rebellions sprang up in the surrounding countries while the Persian nobles fought over the empty throne. When things settled down with Darius on top of the heap, the Samaritans thought maybe they could get Darius to renege on Cyrus’ promise to let the Jews rebuild. It didn’t work, but that was just one more roadblock the returned exiles had to deal with. They were not pumped for the task. In fact, it had taken direct orders from God, almost two months before, to get them started again.

So there they were, just after their annual Thanksgiving feast, such as it was, looking at the size of the task ahead of them. It was to take another five years before it was completed, and at this point probably all they had done was clear away the remains of the sixty-year-old ruin and start sorting out what could be re-used and what had to be carted away and dumped. Maybe they’d gotten as far as making a list of the materials they’d need. But one thing was for sure.

This was not the way it used to be.

I can hear ‘em, can’t you? “Tell us what it was like when you were young,” and the stories would begin. “You should have seen it in the old days,” the stories would begin. “The doors were covered with gold, the walls were of cedar, all the temple furnishings were silver and gold and ivory and bronze.” Every festival day the temple would be filled with people all dressed in their finest; people all over the world knew of the splendor of Jerusalem.” And perhaps the old men and women would begin to weep, and throw ashes on their heads as a sign of mourning for what was gone. And the young people would be quiet, and look at their efforts, and know they could never equal - much less surpass - the beloved memories.

So there they are, emotionally if not literally in sackcloth and ashes, looking despondently on how bad everything was and thinking nostalgically about how good everything used to be and absolutely certain that no matter what they do it will never measure up to the past.

Is there any wonder I thought about poor Cinderella? I’ll bet all she wanted was to have things back the way they used to be, you know, the way they had been before her father married that scheming - er, witch - with the two greedy daughters. But of course, she knew it wouldn’t happen. So she wept, and scrubbed the pots, and dreamed dreams.

Our church actually is in a whole lot better shape than Jerusalem’s temple was back in those days. First of all, the church is built! It may not be as big as the old one, and we may not have stained glass yet, but I only hear the occasional faint sigh for the old one. We’ve really done well at letting go of the past and looking forward to the future.