Luke 21:5–19
They were admiring
the stones —
shaped, placed, perfect —
each a story of empire,
order,
power and pride.
Beautiful stones, they said,
gifts for God,
as though God
needed such gifts,
as though God
lived behind walls
built from the
sweat of the poor.
Jesus spoke,
“Not one stone
will be left
upon another.”
None.
He spoke in the
silence
following admiration,
when beauty
blinds us
to the cost
of its making.
He saw cracks
in foundations,
heard the groaning
of the land below.
The stones
were crying —
crying with the weight
of those dispossessed,
those written out
of the temple story.
of the temple story.
The Crumbling of Stones
We know this story,
we live on
stolen ground.
Australia built its
temples to civilisation,
embellished with wealth
and monuments,
its foundation stones
carved from Country,
stolen from the
Original people.
They said:
“Look how beautiful —
the nation,
the parliament,
the progress.”
Yet,
beneath those stones,
lie the bloody bones
of ancestors,
the silence of rivers
once speaking freely,
the sorrow
of a people
still waiting
to be seen.
“Not one stone
will be left
upon another”.
Every empire falls.
Every injustice
comes to dust.
Only
in the falling,
in the trembling,
is there a chance
for the temple of denial
to collapse
so something sacred
can breathe again.
The Signs and the Struggle
“Nation will rise
against nation,”
“Kingdom against
kingdom.”
We have experienced this —
in the referendum’s
refusal,
in the voices silenced,
in the old wounds
opened once more.
Be not terrified.
The Spirit still moves
in the rubble,
whispering wisdom
to those
who stand in truth.
“When they arrest you
and persecute you,”
he says,
“when they drag you
before governors
and kings,”
remember:
this is your moment
to speak Country’s truth,
To tell the story
buried but not dead.
The truth is not a shield
from suffering —
but the courage to
stand in it,
to name what
others refuse to see.
Endurance and Soul
“They will hate you,”
Jesus warns.
“They will betray you —
your own kin,
your own friends.”
But,
“By your endurance,
you will gain your souls.”
Endurance —
the sacred
Aboriginal knowing.
The long patience
of Country.
The holding on
through mission days,
chains,
policies,
and the polite cruelties
of modern times.
This endurance keeps
singing the Dreaming.
“Not a hair of
your head
will perish”,
harm will come,
but the soul of truth
cannot die.
The Spirit of Country
cannot be erased.
The ancestors’ breath
still carries us,
still whispers through
the gum leaves,
still sings us
into being.
Closing Blessing
So let stones fall,
old temples crumble.
Let the nation’s myths
crack open
revealing what has
always been there —
deep time holiness,
justice rising from the soil.
When the dust settles,
we will find
ourselves standing
on Country
breathing again,
among people
who listen,
with hearts
unafraid to
endure
until love
becomes law,
and justice —
not denial —
is the temple of
our God.