Scripture: Deuteronomy 10:17-22;
Revelation 7:9-17
The second reading for this sermon is from the Book of Revelation, also known as the
Apocalypse. Apocalypse in Greek means "revelation." In the Bible, apocalypse
does not refer to a cataclysmic event or the end of the world as modern-day
fundamentalists and common parlance would have you believe. Rather apocalypse simply means
"revelation from God."
Apocalyptic is a form of biblical writing characterized by highly symbolic imagery,
cosmic battles between good and evil, and a core belief that God will break into human
history in dramatic, life-changing ways. The Book of Revelation, also known as the
Apocalypse of John, is the best known form of this biblical writing.
Most certainly the Apocalypse was written in a time of great social upheaval in the
last quarter of the First Century. Its vivid imagery and fantastic characters are a
treasure trove of symbol and mystery. Besides making several well-known fundamentalists a
lot of money, the Apocalypse of John has inspired much great Christian art and hymnody.
The Apocalypse of John culminates in chapters 21 and 22, with the image of the heavenly
city descending from heaven to earth (not the other way around) and promising a new city
where tears are wiped away, where suffering is no more and where the light of God and
Christ illumine everything. This earthly city imbued with the qualities of heaven is
foreshadowed in today's reading, which is from chapter seven.
(9) After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count,
from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne
and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. (10) They cried
out in a loud voice, saying, "Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the
throne, and to the Lamb!" (11) And all the angels stood around the throne and around
the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne
and worshiped God, (12) singing, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and
thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen."
(13) Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, "Who are these, robed in white, and
where have they come from?" (14) I said to him, "Sir, you are the one that
knows." Then he said to me, "These are they who have come out of the great
ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. (15)
For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within
his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. (16) They will
hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat;
(17) for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide
them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their
eyes."
-- Revelation 7: 9-17
Images of the Twin Towers collapsing are seared in our memories. Pictures so clear now
may fade in time but will never go away. Seemingly invulnerable steel and concrete
monuments to financial and military might proved fragile. Our anxiety is palpable,
undeniable and pervasive. We want to go back before September 11, but cannot go back. If
our greatest cities are vulnerable, then so, too, are we. The images are seared in our
memories and we cannot go back. What shall we do?
The President and Congress declare war on terrorism. Armed forces mobilize.
International coalitions gather. Security measures increase. Tax cuts accelerate. Heroes
are honored. Survivor stories are broadcast. Rubble is sifted. The dead are mourned. What
else can we do?
Donate blood. Send money. Pull out the flag. Hold fast to one's children, mate or
friend. Seek to understand evil. Try to do good. Turn to God. Go to church. Pray. What
else can we do?
Sometimes what we do is not pretty. Sometimes when great anxiety is upon us what we do
is act out of our pathologies. Some of us become depressed. Some of us become aggressive.
Some of us give into our fears. Sometimes in times of great anxiety in the struggle
between good and evil, we allow our fears to gain the upper hand.
Sometimes we paint whole peoples with our fear: Muslims, Middle Easterners, or others
that look like that. We've done it before, allowing our fears to control us. Some of us
are doing it again. We are anxious. All of us. What shall we do?
Even as we return to our work, play and ordinary lives, we still feel vulnerable. Our
cities seem vulnerable. What shall we do? What shall we believe?
Into such anxiety as this John of Patmos - prophet of God, apostle of Christ, seer of
dreams and visions -issues his words of comfort to the rubble of his generation by
picturing not a city in collapse, but a city of God descending from heaven, a beautiful
city, a city whose very architecture is built on the foundation of the inclusive love of
God. It is a city whose vitality is built on the presence of God empowering every human
being to full dignity and freedom.
The year was late in First Century of the Christian era. Domitian was emperor. Domitian
demanded that his subjects address him as Lord and God. We've heard that before. Hitler,
Stalin, Pol Pot demanded it. Every time we bow down before racism, homophobia and
violence, we bow down before such Caesars. Persecution of Christians was pervasive.
Choosing Christ was not an academic exercise. It could cost you your life. Some abandoned
the faith to save their lives, or so they thought. Even the courageous were afraid for
what is courage but the decision to face your fears?
Cities were unsafe places. No airliners rained from the skies, but terror reined on the
streets and in human hearts. It was a time of high anxiety. John's people asked our
questions, "What shall we do? What shall we believe? Where is God now?" Into
such anxiety as this John's vision was given to his people . . . and to us.
Now whatever negative associations you have with the Book of Revelation, I urge you to
set them aside. It is a rich and wonderful book, albeit one that has been avoided by most
Presbyterian preachers who thought they might catch pentecostalism from it. It is a
favorite of mine. Written for the comfort and courage of Christians who are marginalized
and attempting to spread the faith in the midst of appalling conditions, the Apocalypse
spins a fantasy of a new world. In this new world, we are urged to see a more courageous
way to live:
- when Caesar brutalizes with the drumbeat of war, John sees angels armed with the sword
of truth;
- when nations are set against nations, John sees Christ who is our peace;
- when fear of differences forces people to lock their doors and houses and hearts, John
pictures open city streets, where gates are never shut, the lights are always on, love is
the rule and peace is lasting.
In John's world all nations and languages and tongues gather in one place, one sacred
space in the middle of the city, and all are one in their unity of praise to the God who
gathered them, the Christ who saved them, the Spirit who sustains them. Do you see it?
It is unfortunate that recent anxieties about the Middle East, Russia, China and Islam
have allowed the likes of Falwell, Robertson and others like them to spread their
poisonous bilge. The Book of Revelation has made L.A.'s own Hal Lindsey, writer of the
book The Late, Great Planet Earth a very wealthy man. Something that was prophesied when
Mark Twain said, "A fool is born everyday."
I love The Book of Revelation first and foremost because it is a book about the city
and finding hope in the city amid its failings. I love the city. I have given my life to
the city and the churches within it. "Sacred space for the city," we say about
PPC and I mean it. I hope you do.
John is a lover of cities. He loves their architecture. He bedecks the city of his
religious imagination with facades sprinkled with brilliant jewels of rubies, sapphires
and diamonds. His city's square is festooned with fountains and the river of life for the
healing of the nations. His streets are wide and safe. A heavenly, pervasive light takes
way all darkness. There are no churches in his city no roof repair bills because God is
everywhere and there is no need of churches.
John is a lover of cities. He is also a lover of peoples. Into his city he places
peoples of every language and nation and tribe. His city is an inclusive city like New
York, Los Angeles and Pasadena.
But this seer, this prophet of God, this painter of visions and dreamer of dreams,
knows all too well that our cities are not all good. They are sullied by grime, despair
and sin. Human tears dim them as do hatred, racism and intolerance.
This John was a man who knew sorrow and suffering and pain. His people are dying. The
forces of fear and the demons of violence have raised their grim demonic chorus to a loud
din and it appears to some that the melody of the Spirit has been silenced. They
terrorize. They maim. They kill. They take away innocence. In his pastor's heart he knows
everything has changed. They cannot go back. What shall they do? What shall they believe?
It is into such times as these that the prophet comes again, the seer comes again, the
dreamer of dreams and the seer of visions comes and paints a picture of a new city. The
Word of God came to John in his unique time and place and with his own people. John
painted a picture that could be sealed and seared in their minds. Not a picture of towers
collapsing and cities burning, but a picture of a new order, a new community of inclusive
freedom and love united in the presence of the risen Christ.
It is a multicultural vision of both city and church. Listen to his words for our time,
our unique and special time that is like no other time.
"I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every
nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before
the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud
voice, saying, "Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the
Lamb!"
As his vision is revealed, he sees a time when God will wipe every tear from our eyes,
death will be vanquished and mourning, crying and pain will be no more. It is a fantastic
vision unreal to cynics, impractical to the realists, resisted by those mired in the past,
but the Word of God for those who have eyes to see.
Towers crumble and innocents die. The fires of tribalism and fundamentalism are stoked
by fear and the gods of violence. It is into such times as this that the Word of God comes
to us. This time. Our time. A unique time, unlike any other time that has gone before. Now
is our time to be the church as we in humble obedience to our God see fit. At such times
of this we are called to be the church of Jesus Christ, confess him as Lord and Savior in
our time and for our city. This is our time.
What can we do? We can build a church where no one is a stranger, where Korean and
Latino, Czech and English hold hands in the embrace of peace. In a time of high anxiety
when we long for what use to be, we can embrace the future because it is God's future.
Placed by God in this city of immense wealth and resources and appalling poverty and want,
we can choose to side with God who chooses to side with the least of these our brothers
and sisters: the sojourner, the stranger, the excluded, the reviled. When others tear
down, we build up. When chaos reigns, we bring coherence. When talk of violence comes
cheap, we communicate the reconciling love of God in Christ. This is our time. What shall
we do with it? What shall we make of it? What shall we see?
I look and see new heavens and a new earth. I see a great multitude from every nation,
from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb,
saying, "Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the
Lamb!" Look you can see it. Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen."
