April 17, 2016
Rev. 7:9-17
Timothy B. Hare
The Little League season has begun again! It’s always an exciting time of year. In part I like it because it’s fun to watch Charley discover new talents, to watch him play with a team, to watch him learn the game. In part, I like little league because it reminds me of when I used to play as a kid.
I loved baseball, and I was good at it too but, every year without fail I was drafted on Mr. McMahon’s team. Being on Mr. McMahon’s team meant one thing: we would finish last. I remember how we kids felt a certain draft day excitement when coaches all got together to pick the teams. As we shared the results of the draft each year my friends never actually gloated over the fact that I was (and they weren’t) on Coach McMahon’s team; but I could always tell that they felt relieved.
It wasn’t that Mr. McMahon was a bad coach. He seemed to do the same kind of stuff that most of the other coaches did. I think it was more that Mr. McMahon had a different order of priorities. Though I’m sure he wouldn’t have objected to winning, his goals had more to do with character building and showing care for the kids who often seemed to get left behind. Truth be told, though part of me really did want to be on a winning team, it became kind of a yearly honor to know that I was his first pick.
I would say that it’s probably true that as a culture we are a little too caught up in winning and losing. Donald Trump has been using that language quite a bit on the campaign trail these days. He wants our country to win again, but before he was applying these terms to politics he was using it as the premise for his hit show, “The Apprentice?” Angela and I were laughing at how addicted we were to that show for a season. Do you remember it? Do you remember Amarosa? We couldn’t believe how she kept not getting fired. I remember telling a friend about the show, how it worked, and how it had sucked us in. But, my friend didn’t really share in my enthusiasm; in fact, his reply gave me a lot to think about. He said, “I don’t like shows like that because they tend to divide the world into winners and losers.” My immediate thought, which was good for me to recognize, was “that’s exactly what appeals to me most.”
The Book of Revelation may actually contribute to that winner and loser mentality that we often carry. Certainly, it is the inspiration for many paintings about the final judgment in which those to Christ’s left plummet or are dragged down to the firey depths of hell while those on his right ascend to heavenly glory. But, apocalyptic literature is never easily or definitively interpreted and certainly it doesn’t offer the only biblical words on the end of times. In chapter 31 Jeremiah talks about a time of reunion when God’s people will return home with tears of consolation, young women will dance, young and old men will be merry, and mourning will be transformed into joy. Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, talks about God’s plan, “a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and earth.”[i] These are certainly biblical images of the end that lack the wild and even bizarre images that we find in more apocalyptic texts like Revelation.
The book of Revelation records s a series of visions that God has given the apostle John while John lives out his days in exile. The vision are strange, other-worldly scenes that are hard to understand. In fact, I’m not sure that there is just one understanding of them. One scholar writes, “Throughout the history of interpretation it has proved impossible to resist the temptation to decode [the book of Revelation.] However, as soon as the interpreter does this, the images are left behind and the peculiar ethos of the apocalyptic narrative, the story, with all its abrupt transitions and allusive quality, is lost.” The book of Revelation, perhaps more than any other book, invites us to use our imaginations, to enter into its world and to come out surprised. Those of us who tend not to exercise our imaginations too much when it comes to reading scripture may feel particularly out of place with Revelation.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m making my way though an HBO series about life on earth after 10% of the population has been raptured. The question of how one makes meaning out of life given the reality of this monumental, inexplicable, vanishing strikes me as a very compelling way to think about enduring human themes like, hope, and purpose, and order, and morality, and miracle and mystery, just to name a few. It is a refreshing perspective on the topic of apocalypse, which in the earlier years of my ministry had gained nation-wide interest and fascination because of a series of books that relied upon a certain reading of Revelation, which pitted Christ against the anti-christ in a violent Armageddon, which ultimately would destroy evil and any who were considered to be on its side. In addition to being entertainment, the books were propaganda for a very particular brand of Christianity, and I believe their influence remains in how many people approach the topic of apocalypse, even if the books aren’t as popular as they once were. The Christ of this apocalypse resembled very little of the Christ of our gospels, and the glorious “end” of creation was a world of winners and losers, which doesn’t seem quite worthy of eternal, and amazing, and life-changing grace.
This morning the Lectionary invites us to experience John’s revelation for ourselves. So, Imagine that like John you’ve been uprooted from your home, taken from your family and loved ones, removed from all that is safe and familiar because your first loyalty in this world is not to your government or to one particular political leader, but to a crucified and living Lord. And imagine knowing that your brothers and sisters in the faith are suffering as well because they have not denounced their faith. There is nothing you can do to help them. But, you are granted a vision in which you see a sea of people from every nation and race singing songs of praise and thanksgiving to God. They are with God day and night; they hunger no more; they thirst no more; and God wipes away every tear from their eyes. And then you are told that “these are those who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
Where would that vision leave you? Again, I doubt that there is one right answer. But I imagine that John’s experience included a sense of encouragement. He could endure his exile because God couldn’t be exiled from him. He could maintain his struggle because God would be his comfort.
One commentary writes, “The meaning of ‘the great ordeal’ is unclear.” However, it is reasonable to understand that “what John is offered here is a proleptic glimpse of those who have made it through the time of trial, particularly as a result of resisting the pressure to conform to the beast and the allure of Babylon.”[ii] They have lived (or died) as witnesses to the truth of Christ and now they are seen worshiping before the throne of God. They have conquered the enemy by suffering with Christ. They have remained true to Christ’s ways and not conformed to the ways of the powers that dominate the world. And here we see them always with God.
Again, we’re invited to use our imaginations. In what ways are we tempted to give up our witness and conform to the ways of the beast? Are we eager to see in this world a sea of winners and losers or might God be showing us a different vision of the world, of the nations, of humanity? Are we eager to seek power the way the world defines it or shall we find it in the cross of Christ?
I heard that Mr. McMahon passed away not too long ago. That was sad news to me. He was one of those unsung saints, someone who dared to be a little bit different, to live with priorities that made for bad little league teams but good kids.
The priorities that we live by become our witness to the world, and it strikes me that our witness really does make a difference.
[i] Christian Century, April 20, 2004, page3
[ii] NIB 624