Dwelling among us
From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul
Dwelling among us: 22nd May 2011: pm: The Very Revd Frank Nelson
- Psalm 147: 1 - 11
- Zechariah 4: 1 - 10
- Revelation 21: 1 - 14
So Harold Camping got it wrong again! The predicted rapture on May 21st whereby the faithful would be taken up into heaven, accompanied by earthquakes and a slow death for the unbelievers, has been greeted across the world (or at least where people had heard of Harold Camping) by skepticism and laughter. Those who were not warned could be forgiven for thinking the crowds are storming the barricades of parliament today – instead of recreating scenes of the 1981 Springbok tour for a feature film. While here in the Cathedral we sit enthralled as the strains of Rachmaninov move us to tears: To thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.
But while we might pour scorn on the televangelist, who no doubt stands to make a lot of money from the gullible; find ourselves torn apart as memories of an ugly side to the New Zealand psyche are relived; or choose to hold closer to our heads our earphones with music blocking out the world around us – we are offered tonight a profoundly moving and hope-filled passage from that most mysterious of the books of the Bible: The Revelation to St John.
On one level the apocalyptic writing known as Revelation remains the happy hunting ground of people like televangelist Camping. A book to be mined for its gift to self-righteous bigots, who think that they, and they alone, have a handle on the truth. Stay around long enough and you will hear a similar story told and retold: God is on our side, we are the saved, ‘they’ are the damned. The ‘they’ often referring to those we love to hate this month!
Tonight we have read fourteen verses from the second to last chapter in the Bible. Not only is Chapter 21 the climax to the Book of Revelation, it is the climax to the Bible. The first seven verses remain popular reading at funerals, and with good reason. The sentiment expressed in them suggests hope beyond the grave, and the chance of being together again with those we love who have died. A new heaven and a new earth, the holy city, an invitation to the thirsty to drink at the water of life – these are powerful images.
Following the standard greeting at the beginning of the Book of Revelation we are greeted by John – ‘your brother who shares with you in Jesus the persecution and the patient endurance on the island called Patmos.’ (Rev 1: 9) Church scholarship and tradition suggest that John is the beloved disciple mentioned in the Gospel that goes by his name; that John, now an old man, spent his last years in exile on Patmos during one of the first vicious persecutions of the Christian church by the Romans. Just last year we walked up the narrow cobbled streets of Patmos, and joined the queue of tourists to file down narrow steps into what is believed to be the cave where John lived. Despite the crass commercialism that attends so many religious sites, it is nevertheless a moving moment to pause and ponder what it was like for John.
Two generations after the excitement of following Jesus around the country, the terror of his arrest, the bewilderment of finding the empty tomb, and the exhilaration as the truth about the resurrection finally sank in, John must have wondered whether it was all simply a dream. In lonely exile he turns to the scriptures as he searches through them and looks deep into his heart. I wonder whether, with time on his hands to read the scriptures, he experienced the sort of thing Jamie Allen, quoted on the front page of today’s leaflet did. Writing after spending 72 hours reading the Bible from cover to cover, the Dean of Taranaki wrote: “I was amazed by the shape of the scripture. It felt as if God calls us into a dance – an improvisation almost, with the Holy Trinity.” Certainly John was well-versed and knowledgeable about his Bible.
Perhaps there is the key to making sense, real sense, of the Book of Revelation; to be so steeped in the story of God and God’s people that a word, a phrase, a combination of ideas, sparks off a depth of understanding that few of us non-biblical scholars are likely to achieve. It takes more than a cursory reading of the opening verses of Revelation 21 to understand what is behind the sea being no more. What is the significance underlying the image of the bride adorned for her husband, of God dwelling among people, of death and mourning and crying being no more? Stay with me for a few more minutes as we unpack a few of the allusions in tonight’s second reading.
In a book full of numbers the sea is the first of seven things that will disappear: sea, death, grief, crying, pain, all that is under God’s curse, and night. Here is the whole range of evil – beginning with the sea. Remember that in the Book of Genesis it is from the sea, the place of chaos and nothingness, that God first creates the heavens and the earth. In the poetic imagery of that first book in the Bible the first day gives way to the seventh when all things are complete – as God intended them to be. God rested on the seventh day; and blessed and hallowed the Sabbath. (Gen 2: 2,3)
In this completed plan of God’s the holy city will come down out of heaven – the imagery reflects that of the time, with heaven up there and earth down here. The important words come next. “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.” (Rev 21: 3) No longer is there a separation between heaven (up there) and earth (down here). Rather, we are reminded of the Christmas stories and the name given to Jesus: Emmanuel – God is with us. (I think here of the magnificent music of Taverner sung at the Carol Service?)
When we dig a little deeper we recognize words that echo others from the Bible. The Greek word for the home, or dwelling, of God is skene. It is the word used in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, for the Hebrew mishkan – tent. The mishkan was the symbol of God’s presence throughout the long years of wandering through the wilderness. It is related to another Hebrew word shekinah, the glory and presence of God. By using this concept John taps into the deep-seated knowledge of God’s presence with God’s people. That presence is there wherever people are faithful to God. And this is the central message that John wants to convey to the seven churches to which he is writing. God is with you. God is in your presence. God is encamped in your midst. So stand firm and fast in your faith – no matter what happens. God is with you.
This idea reminds me strongly of words spoken by Peter Beck following the Christchurch earthquake. I am sure you remember them. “The earthquake is not an act of God; it is the earth doing what it does. The act of God is in the love and compassion that people are sharing among each other.” At his talk last week Dr Jim Cooper described how Trinity Church, an iconic building on Wall St in New York, reacted to the Global Financial Crash. While the banks were laying off staff left, right and centre, Trinity staff agreed not to expect bonuses and increases in pay – and to sit tight and ride out the crisis together. Was God in that too?
Is the holy city described by John just for the future – the pie in the sky when you die? Or is there more to it? Our final hymn tonight CP 482, Jerusalem the Golden, is at least partly inspired by the image of the holy city from Revelation. The author of the words, Bernard of Cluny, was, by all accounts, a man brilliant in writing poetry, but not averse to using his words to cut through to the heart of the issues of his 12th century day – whether they be addressed to church, state or society. Like many in his day, he joined the Benedictine reformers seeking to get back to a simpler Christian life. Like others before and since Bernard sought to live the kingdom life of God in this world, in this age, in this life.
Is the end of the world imminent, even if Pastor Harold Camping got the date wrong? We don’t know. What we do know is that God loves us, dwells among us, and calls us to follow Jesus Christ – the way, the truth and the life - day by day. The things to do with the end times are referred to as Eschatology – from the Greek word eschaton meaning the last thing. Interestingly the form of the word eschaton (which is neutral) occurs in the New Testament only in the masculine form – eschatos. This can only refer to Jesus Christ who, in John’s writing in Revelation, is the beginning and the end. Follow me, says Jesus to the fisherman at the beginning of the Gospels. Follow me, says Jesus Christ, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the eschatos, the end. For John of Patmos – that is all that really matters. Follow me.
No wonder we dare to stand and sing: Good Christians all, rejoice and sing! Now is the triumph of our King. To all the world glad news we bring. Alleluia! CP 145
