by Rev. Dr Wes Campbell
Sermon delivered 2 Nov. 2008
Revelation 7:9-17
Psalm 34:1-10, 22
Matthew 5:1-12
See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. (1 John 3:1-3)
A great crowd of people dressed in white is gathered around a throne from which streams intense light, singing. And on the throne is a lamb; no, more graphically, a slaughtered lamb.
So goes the last book of the Bible, the Revelation of St John.
At the beginning of this strange piece of writing we are told that John the Apostle has received a vision. The name given to that vision is ‘Revelation’ or ‘apocalypse’: it means uncovering. But the writing is so bizarre that it is thoroughly off putting. That very strangeness explains why most of the church does not read it. Or, when we read it, as today or at funerals, we select a few verses only.
A church that feels at home in the present world doesn’t read this because it is disturbing, challenging and threatens that feeling of stability. That church may not read this book, but groups who are under pressure, persecuted even b
y fellow members of the church – they read this apocalypse! You see that in the 16th-century reformation. The Lutheran Reformers and the Catholics didn’t like Revelation much; the so-called Anabaptists did, especially because the Lutherans and the Catholics joined forces to smash their dissident movement.
People who are under pressure, whose lives are threatened, because of their faith, recognise that this is a book written for them!
When John wrote this ‘Revelation’ it was the early generations of Christians who were being persecuted. And for some, at least, it meant death. The Roman Games in the Coliseum had turned into a spectacle of blood and gore. This was the generation of Christian martyrs. Notice that the word martyr in Greek also means witness. John has written this strange book for those whose lives are threatened because they are witnesses of Jesus. When they called him ‘Lord’ or ‘Son of God’ they were in direct rebellion against the Roman Caesar who was giving himself such titles.
John presents a picture of a great crowd, dressed in white robes. This white clothing means more than the new clothing of their baptism: they have also ‘washed their robes in blood.’ They have died as Jesus’ witnesses.
John portrays that large crowd of witnesses gathered around the throne. As martyrs, they gather around the first and great martyr, Jesus himself, singing. I can imagine that Charles Wesley and Isaac Watts would be in that choir. And with them, black salves of America, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, along with Yothu Yindi, Gurrumul Yunapingu, Kev Carmody, Paul Kelly and Midnight Oil of former days! This crowd gathers, and disturbs with world changing song!
It is not surprising that this book is left unread.
There is probably another reason why John’s apocalypse is so ignored. It’s that the church wants a life of relative peace and quiet with the surrounding society. But, more than that, such a church wants to be important; it longs to be important, taken notice of by the decision makers.
So, it doesn’t help that cause when the government is called a beast. The bizarre scenes sound like an illustrated novel (we used to call them comics): the State or Empire is a horrific dragon with multiple horns and eyes and stomping boots, a crushing and death dealing power. Such is the empire that John describes.
You’d hardly be creating an easy relationship with the government if you launch into that sort of description. You’d probably pretty quickly be put onto a list of ‘persons of interest’, a terrorist suspect. And that, of course, is what early Christians were.
The dragon still rages: think of how Baghdad was bombed into submission in ‘shock and awe’; how the flames of explosions lit up the night sky, with tanks and other armoured vehicles streaming across the desert, to inflict pain and fire-power on the enemy – added to daily reports of air strikes and armies rampaging – and you are close to the world of John’s vision.
Because John is writing to those who live in fear of their lives, he writes in code, in ‘apocalyptic’ style. Why does he do this? To give encouragement to pressured members of the small Christian community who risk their lives by being part of that community.
What are we to make of this? We who live in the relative peace of inner city Melbourne, in one of the world’s most liveable cities? We who have memories that the church was once the religion of this society and wielded power and influence, but see it dwindling before our eyes?
John lives in extreme times. He is writing up his vision to show who is really in power. He knows that the dragon of the Empire uses force, compulsion and the threat of death, to extend its borders and its influence.
John writes to uncover the true and life-giving power that is hidden, yet at the heart of things. And he has the affront to say that what is now hidden will one day be opened up for all to see; a day when the dragon loses its power, and all are ruled by a ‘slaughtered Lamb’.
Then those who died in the name of Jesus will be vindicated for their trust of him.
Now, in the New Testament, as you know, there are differing voices; the early Christian communities, even then, lived under different governments, in differing circumstances. Yet, regardless, whether the governing powers are permissive and gentle, or harsh and repressive, the Christian has an allegiance first to Jesus the Lamb.
So in every society, under every style of government, in every empire, the Christian allegiance is first and only to Jesus. Then, in those various circumstances, it will be necessary to find ways of representing his rule to the society and the empires of our own day.
Sometimes that will mean more of a dialogue; at other times it will be contentious and on the pain of death.
Today, as we celebrate All Saints’ Day, we may be reminded what the North African bishop, Tertullian said in the 2nd century: the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church. It sounds extreme. The point is, that because of their deaths for loyalty to Jesus, they grew the church; they planted a seed; they themselves became a touchstone for our lives. And those martyrs, who we once thought belonged only to the long-lost past, are now joined daily in the Philippines, Latin America, India and wherever people are dying because of their attachment to Jesus.
But be careful: we have learnt over the years to think of Saints as a special class of Christian, holier than thou. It may be that some are exemplary – that is, they are ‘writ large’, an example of allegiance to Jesus. But the word ‘saint’ which comes from the word ‘holy’ means those who are called. Simply that. Those called, who then are ‘separated out’ by that call, are ‘saints’: just as Jesus separated some people: by calling twelve, then 70, and then 500, to be his witnesses; with them he does separate us. But not to leave the world. He draws us to himself, holds us there, so we may be his witnesses in the world, to declare that he is here for the world.
Jesus, the first Martyr, the Crucified, has the affront to declare blessings in this world.
He announces blessing to the empty, the weak and powerless, those who make peace, and who seek justice; who suffer because of him.
That is graphically shown in the so-called Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus begins with the promise of blessing to the outsiders, the lost, the longing.
I recall when these twelve verses were on the front pages of German newspapers, along with the verses that follow that speak of loving your enemy and other such radical stuff. In the 1980s, as crowds were protesting against new nuclear missiles being stationed in Germany, theologians and politicians argued over the words of Jesus from Matthew. The point is this: Jesus not only calls followers out of the crowd, to be different because they trust him; he also lays out the politics of God which is to rule them. This is no mere private ethic, developed to be kept in some inner safety box; here is the politics of God’s reign, that also spreads out to the crowd who overhear what Jesus is promising!
And so Jesus instructs his followers about his own radical path. It is always Jesus the crucified Lord who teaches his church; he has gone first and tested this way of costly blessing. Now he gives his instructions to those who follow.
We have been talking about Barak Obama. I have a colleague who has registered with Obama’s team, on line. He says there is not a week goes by that he doesn’t get a message from Obama and his team: encouragement to vote; to encourage others to vote, to be active, and so on. Obama is doing this as a politician shaping a movement. That he can do it, helps us to see what Jesus is doing in marshalling his movement of witnesses, martyrs.
In the past few years we have seen a deadly movement of martyrdom develop, in response to the empire’s crushing and destroying. Many of us have been trained to support the empire, and to accept violence as a way of resolving conflict. Odd, that we have accepted that, because Jesus’ call to his followers requires nothing less than today’s martyrs demonstrate – a commitment at the cost of their lives. With the profound difference – that we are to be carriers of blessing; those who love enemies.
You see, Jesus calls a people to share what he gives: a share in a reign of blessing. Even though he shows it produces cost as well!
The call is out there now, a call to us: to see in Jesus himself, the slaughtered Lamb, given pride of place on the throne of God, has the right to say that his is the way the world will live, He makes clear that the church community, tiny, insignificant, is just the beginning: a mere entrée, a foretaste, as sign of the blessing God holds in store for all.
He asks us to take on the cost of this blessing: to become signs of his blessing to those in our homes, shops, streets, in places of work, hospitals and hospices, in business offices, high rise and parliaments – in slums and in the stock exchange, in suburbs and inner city, on drought-parched soils, salted land, amongst Aboriginal peoples, refugees and immigrants, and all over.
Signs of his blessing: that is why we are here. And to be strengthened for that calling, we gather, somewhat hidden, somewhat secret, to sing his praise, to gather at the table of the Lamb, to eat of him, and to celebrate ahead of time that he is the one who rules now in his hidden way, and will finally bring a life-giving reign to all.
As those called to be his in the world, saints even, let us add our voices to the choir of saints:
To the holy, blessed and glorious Trinity,
three persons and one God,
known in Jesus the Lamb, be all glory and praise, dominion and power,
now and forever.
Amen.
