Sermon 5/16/04
The Scariest Book of the Bible - Revelation 21:1-10, 22 - 22:5
(view lectionary notes for this text)
If the Book of Acts, which we studied last Sunday, is one book of the Bible that we often visit, the Book of Revelation must also take a place on our list of rarely discussed scriptures. But perhaps the reasoning is a bit different - whereas our fist take on the Book of Acts might find it uninteresting, or irrelevant, our gut reaction to Revelation is that it is perhaps downright frightening, certainly confusing, and rarely comforting. The Book of Revelation has provided basis for many a judgment day Armageddon-type movie, as the earth is destroyed, mountains crash, people vanish, families are torn apart, and general chaos reigns. Who would want to prayerfully study such a book? In fact, I remember when I was little, and was being encouraged to read the Bible faithfully, I was strongly urged to not read the Book of Revelation, or at least to leave it for last, and then to read it only with guidance and assistance from a knowing adult.
So what's inside this scariest book of the Bible? Our passage for today skips over most of the chaos and goes right to the climax - highlighting perhaps some of the best known verses of the book. Here, as when we looked at the 23rd Psalm two weeks ago, we have a text which is often read at funeral services. We read, "God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away." A world with no pain, no mourning - who could wish for better? When I hear these words, I can't help but think of the movie Titanic, when, 'til the very last, as the boat is sinking, the people are praying fervently to God, clinging to the on-board priest, as he recites these words from Revelation. The words become their own funeral liturgy, as the people ultimately fall into the ocean. But in their last minutes on earth, it is these words of Revelation that bring peace in the midst of tragedy.
Aside from evoking images of mourning, there are other parts of this text that bring concerns and questions for me. For example, the passage speaks of a time when there will be no sun and no moon, a whole new heaven and earth, and a big new shining city of God. Maybe it's just me, but I always have found God's own creation more beautiful than any city skyline we humans have constructed. And I wonder about the list of those who are not God's children in this new city, but who are condemned instead to this "second death" in the lake of fire and sulfur. Sure, I read murderers and idolaters and am not surprised, but what about those who are polluted, cowardly, or faithless? Don't we sometimes fall into one of these categories? Will we be those who inherit, or those who fall short?
But all my concerns aside, here in this very passage is some of the best stuff too. The surprising thing is that in the midst of all this crazy talk about beasts and dragons and lambs comes one of the simplest statements of the good news that Jesus was always trying to share. When we think of the good news, we often understand the phrase to refer to the fact that Christ died on our behalf. But actually, since Jesus often spoke of the good news while he was still very much alive, we have to look another direction to figure out his statements. For Jesus, the good news was that the kingdom of God was at hand - near, or right there, already on earth. God's kingdom wasn't something Jesus thought we had to wait to experience until our death - we could - can - experience God's kingdom right now, this minute, if we work with God to make it happen. Strangely, in a book that spends much focus on death and afterlife and endings, eternal reward or eternal punishment, there is still in the midst of this passage we read today a claim of what the good news is, in beautiful words: "See, the home of God is among mortals." Whereas much of Revelation speaks in future tense, referring to events that will happen, that have yet to take place, this sentence is very present tense. The home of God is among mortals.
And despite my objections to images of a world with no sun and no moon and this strange new city, I can't help but be drawn to the verse that reads, "See, I am making all things new." All things new. As Christians, we know only too well that being faithful is a journey, a struggle, a challenge, a path filled with errors and mistakes and things we wish we could take back or do again. We swear to God we will mend our ways. As a congregation, we confess our sins, and renew our commitment to God when we remember our baptism, or share in communion. And yet, we stumble, we fall. We sin. We exclude. We don't love as God loves. But here, we read, God makes all things - all things - new. That means we get a clean slate, a fresh start. Whatever we've done, wherever we've gone wrong, God is willing to let us try again. That's a promise that let's us take a big sigh of relief, and then get about the work that God calls us to do.
The Book of Revelation reminds us that a lot of what we get out of the Bible has to do with what we put into it. Remember how I told you that I was recommended to read the Revelation last or not at all when I was younger? Well, against the better judgment of some adults, I went ahead and read the book anyway. I was really curious about it, because I understood that it told about what would happen when Jesus would come again, and I really wanted to know what to expect. I heard that it told about the end of the world, and I thought if all this information was in there, I wanted to read it so I knew for myself what was going on, what would happen to me and my world. So I read the Book of Revelation, and found myself strangely comforted. True, some images in the Book were violent, scary, confusing, strange. But what I read was an account of what would happen to the faithful people when Christ returned. I read that God had in plan a whole new world for those who remained true even in the face of opposition. And I thought - that's me - I'm a Christian - I'm not perfect, but I try to follow Jesus. So despite everything, I found Revelation to be a book of comfort, a book of hope.
What do you bring to the Bible, to this Book of Revelation particularly? If you expect to find a Book of death and destruction, you will probably find it to be so. But if you expect to find a Book of life, Revelation certainly contains a message of hope and promise that can shape our lives. God's home is with us. Not some far away God who only watches us from a distance, as the popular song would suggest. No, our God lives with us, inside us and beside us, a part of all that we do. A blessing, and a responsibility. We don't have to wait until some final day to have God right here with us - but we also can't put off ushering in God's kingdom until some later date. God expects to be welcomed into our lives through our loving actions right now, starting today.
And likewise, Revelation reminds us that for God, for whom all things are possible, giving us a clean slate is part of the promise. A new beginning. A second chance, a thousandth chance. A blessing, and a responsibility. God forgives when we sin. But that means we can't let our past mistakes be an excuse to not try again. We can't get let off the hook from doing God's work because of fear of failure. God's already got us covered.
Another name for Revelation is Apocalypse. The word apocalypse literally means "the uncovering," the removing of the veil, the revealing of the mystery. So take this book of your list of scary stories. Because inside, under the covers, is another precious piece of God's word for God's people. Thanks be to God. Amen.