I’m visiting St. Martin’s Church in Providence this weekend and am preaching on the appointed Gospel for this week – and we’re simultaneously observing the Feast of St. Martin of Tours. And I’m preaching the weekend of the recent US National election that has returned former President Donald Trump to office who saw an increase in the number of people who voted for him.

I’ve said elsewhere, but it bears repeating, no matter how confident the pundits are right now that they understand what has happened, no one really understands what these events mean. And no one probably will in any sort of definitive way until some time has passed. Is this just another “change” election? We’ve had a string of those. Is this a sign of a national or international realignment? Maybe… but it could just as easily be another in a string of anti-incumbent elections that have taken place worldwide in the past three years.

Leaving aside what this means, I think it’s more helpful to pick up the question of “What are we to do now?” That turns out to have an answer in the story of St. Martin, and of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem not long after Jesus says the words we read this week.

You can view the sermon directly at this link.

I preached a version of this sermon on Sunday, Nov 10th at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church in Providence RI. The congregation recorded the sermon and I’ve run it through a transcription program and asked ChatGPT to clean up some of my verbal “ticks”. Here’s the result:

I received a note from the Rector this week expressing his happiness that I would be speaking instead of him. [Laughter] But, to make it even more interesting, he gave me a three-fold task: we need to address what’s happened recently in our country, observe the celebration of the Patronal Feast, which occurs tomorrow, and speak on the gospel, as that should always be included. So, I’ll attempt to do all that today, although it’s a bit ambitious. [Laughter] This will be a three-strand sermon; you’ll hear those strands weaving together. And before you walk out, give me a little time—let me finish, then you can walk out! [Laughter]

Let’s start with current events. What just happened, and more importantly, what does it mean? I know many people claim to know what this recent election means, but I don’t think anyone truly does. We’re still counting votes, and we don’t yet know who will control Congress. There’s a noticeable shift in the Senate, and it seems that the electorate has changed across the country, even here in Rhode Island. But what does this signify? Since the pandemic, nearly every incumbent government worldwide has been voted out. It’s happened in Britain, Italy, Brazil, Poland, and even Japan. Both liberal and conservative governments have faced this fate. It feels like there’s a widespread sense of dissatisfaction with the status quo.

Consider this: 13 of the last 15 elections in the U.S. have been characterized as “change elections.” We keep flipping back and forth, expressing our discontent. If there’s any coherent conclusion to draw, it’s that we don’t like where we are. Now, as many of you know, I used to be a scientist. I studied astrophysics, but eventually switched to material science, where I focused on phase transitions. There’s an interesting phenomenon in any system transitioning from one stable phase to another: as it nears that point of change, fluctuations in the system become larger and more frequent. This is why water gets cloudy before it freezes or boils—the fluctuations signal that a significant change is coming.

If I were to guess, this pattern of change elections might suggest that our world order is shifting. We may be witnessing the end of the American Empire, which began in Teddy Roosevelt’s time, reached its height after World War II, and now seems to be retreating. Whether that’s good or bad is uncertain. But I believe we are seeing something new emerging.

Now, let’s talk about Martin of Tours. Martin served in the Roman military during Emperor Julian the Apostate’s reign. The Roman Empire, during Jesus’s time, was just starting to expand, but by the time of Martin, it had grown so powerful it became unwieldy. It was eventually divided, yet still struggled to function as one entity. Martin served under Julian, known as “the Apostate” because he reverted the empire back to paganism, rejecting Christianity. In Martin’s time, established figures like Ambrose and Augustine began converting to Christianity, marking the start of a new world order within the empire. These leaders brought their skills in education, organization, and governance into the Church, transforming it in the process.

Martin became known for miracles that often symbolized a world order in decline. One story tells of him burning a pagan temple, but when the flames threatened a nearby home, he commanded, “Stop,” and the flames halted. In another story, he was cutting down a sacred tree, but when it fell toward someone, he commanded it to stop, and it diverted. Through these acts, Martin preserved the innocent while dismantling the old order, making space for the new.

This brings us to the gospel. Towards the end of his earthly ministry, Jesus was in the temple, aware that it would soon be destroyed. The temple was more than a local place of worship; it was central to the Jewish diaspora. But it was also a challenge to Roman authority, as it represented a counterbalance to Roman power. The Romans later destroyed it in 70 AD, an act meant to solidify their dominance.

In this setting, Jesus observes the temple leaders—those who consume resources for self-gain. He then sees a widow quietly giving her last two coins to the temple, which he knows is about to be destroyed. Why commend her for giving everything she had to an institution on the brink of collapse? Perhaps because she was all in with her faith, placing her trust in God despite the instability around her. She trusted that, amid these monumental changes, God would somehow make things right.

Change is happening regardless of whether we want to stop or encourage it. But we can choose where we place our faith in this transition. Like Martin, like the widow, I want to trust in God, not in institutions, militaries, or material securities. I want to commit fully, knowing that somehow, in the midst of uncertainty, God is doing something.

This is our call as Christians: to trust in God’s unfolding plan, even when it seems unreasonable. There’s no logical reason to be optimistic, yet as Christians, we are called to hope.

Amen.