Revelation 1:4b-8, John 18:33-37
Today
is New Year’s Eve. Let me put this a little differently. Today is Christ the
King Sunday, which happens to be the last Sunday in our liturgical year. Next
week a new liturgical year begins with Advent. I don’t preach many sermons on Christ
the King because this is the Sunday we usually celebrate Thanksgiving. But recent
events in our world have left me in a less than thankful mood. Therefore I ask
you to join me in turning to a couple of New Testament texts which promise that
the Kingdom of God lives among us, even when the evidence might suggest
otherwise.
Surely
the most complicated and misused book in the Bible is the last letter in the
New Testament. If I should announce next week the Sunday School class will begin
a study on the marvelous book of Second Isaiah, only those who come faithfully every
Sunday would attend. But should I announce a four week study of the Book of
Revelation, we would have to build a new fellowship hall. It amazes me how much
interest Revelation creates. Most of the curiosity stems from its misuse by
excitable yet barely biblically literate charlatans who want to fill your heads
with predictions about the End Times. Such exploitation has caused many a
brilliant mind to reject the book entirely. Martin Luther deemed the book to be
utter nonsense. Calvin refused to preach from it.
The Book of Revelation
was written about 60 years after the death of Jesus to a group of churches
located in what today would be southern Turkey and Northern Syria. Jerusalem
had been destroyed by Roman troops. Pompeii and its neighboring towns had been
demolished by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Each of these events weighed
heavily on the hearts of the inhabitants of this particular region. Some
Christians were convinced the eruption was God’s reaction to the destruction of
Jerusalem. Many Romans believed Christians were secretly plotting to overthrow
the Emperor Domitian, the same emperor who demanded everyone address him as,
“Our Lord and God”. Failure to do so was considered an act of treason.
The recipients of the
letter of Revelation, commonly known as the seven churches of Asia, were faced
with a difficult decision. They could leave the church, fight Rome, lie about
their faith, water down their beliefs, or die.
These people desperately wanted to know what to do. They were citizens
of the Roman Empire, they were raised in a culture vastly different from Rome, and
they had been recently converted to a religion which often stood over against
their citizenship and their culture. In their anguish and confusion they listened
as the letter began, “I know things are looking bleak, but heaven will reveal a
different truth. Take heart. Christ is the Alpha and Omega. Trust in God’s
future, not your past. The Holy One will arrive soon.” I wonder if these words left them comforted
………… or disturbed?
Religion, culture and
citizenship often make strange bedfellows. The brilliant novelist Marilynne
Robinson, in a recently published essay, points to the contradictions that
arise when the three are blended. She writes, America is a Christian country. That is true in a number of ways. Most
people living in the United States, if asked, will identify themselves as
Christian, which may only mean they aren’t something else. We are indentified
in the world with this religion because some of us espouse it not only publicly
but rather enthusiastically. As a
consequence, we carry a considerable responsibility for its good name in the
world, though we seem not much inclined to consider the implications of this
fact. If we did, we might think a little longer about associating our precious
Lord with the ignorance and intolerance often associated with our faith.
My
difficulty with claiming that America is a Christian country is that
contemporary America is full of fear and fear is not a Christian discipline. As
children we learned, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
Thou art with me.” Before and after his resurrection Jesus told the disciples,
“Fear not, I will be with you always.” When we forget this, or place the words
of Jesus to the side, fear rules our lives, making us unable to make the
distinction between real threats and irrational responses. Our anxieties and
prejudices are channeled into the emotions of those who misuse words like
courage or patriotism. Ultimately this translates into our lives being ruled by
fear, as unchristian as that may be.
I know Robinson wrote
the last sentence with her tongue fully pressed against her cheek, but her
point is valid. What we confess on Sunday morning is often in conflict with
what streams across our televisions on Monday morning. Forgiveness, grace and
mercy play well in sermons but not against headlines which make our blood boil.
Are we first Christian, American, or citizens of the world? How can we be all
three and not exist in a paradoxical conundrum?
Jesus stood before
Pilate. Can you imagine the headache the governor must have been having? Who
was this guy? He looked like a peasant. Some claimed he was a rabbi though the
Temple swore he wasn’t. The accusation was treason. Pilate must have thought
somebody was really frightened of this guy if those were the charges. Jesus had
no Army, we had no weapons of mass destruction, and he certainly didn’t have
that crazy look in his eyes that would have the betrayed a sickness in his
brain.
Pilate was in a
pickle. Jesus might have been guilty of something but it certainly wasn’t
treason. But releasing Jesus might result in a riot and the last thing Pilate
needed was word getting back to Rome that he couldn’t control the affairs of
Jerusalem. So Pilate posed a question. “Are you the king of the Jews?”
The answer Pilate got
was hardly what he expected. Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world.”
Pilate probably thought
he needed to check Jesus’ eyes a second time. “So you are a king?”
“Yes, I was born to
testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
Pilate then uttered
the line that too often falls from our own curious or frustrated lips, “What is
truth?”
I am not so sure “The
word of the Lord” as it came in a letter to the Seven Churches of Asia was all
that comforting. A thin reading of the text would be, “Here is the truth. This
world doesn’t really matter; just don’t lose sight of heaven. God has a plan.”
Yet a deeper reading of the Book of Revelation becomes complicated. It addresses
the “things of this earth” by promising the destruction of Rome or any other hegemony
that places itself above the one true God.
So what is God’s truth? Does it only pertain to
things of heaven or does the Bible have something to say concerning
immigration, inner city turmoil or terrorist threats? One thing for sure, “Fear
not” preaches really well on Sunday but usually falls on deaf ears by Monday.
What a mystery we
have? Consider the complexities from a theological perspective. Our first
declaration of faith is God created heaven and earth. If heaven and earth are
the dominion of God, should we be so quick to flee the plight of earth for the
promises of heaven?
What about good and
evil? Can this only be answered from our perspective? If Jesus demanded we love
our enemy might that mean we are to at least attempt to see the world through
their eyes?
More
than a handful of you have spoken or e-mailed me this week asking if I might
take a moment and offer some wisdom concerning the horrific tragedy in Paris.
After session meeting I spoke briefly with Dave Lawson, who as you know is one
of the “real radicals” in our congregation. Dave wisely said, “I am not one of
those people.”
I
applauded Dave’s wisdom, mainly because any word I might offer is certainly flawed
by my limited perspective. Imagine my surprise when Dave sends an e-mail which
included the following poem.
What if we
awoke one morning to find ourselves
A member of a different race?
One despised by our neighbors.
What would it
be like if we went to bed
in
a comfortable home,
Only to wake in some cold hovel
Without running water and no
plumbing?
What if we went
to bed in a peaceful valley
And were jarred awake in the morning
By automatic weapons just
outside our door.
What would it
be like to fall asleep
in
Virginia as Presbyterians,
and awake in Syria as Muslims?
What would it be like?
If we claim to be a people
of faith, shouldn’t we be open to the claims our faith makes. Is God loving? Is
God vengeful? Is God merciful? Is God judgmental? Are God’s people limited to a
select few, or is God’s grace universal?
Does faith mean we
blindly follow God or can we be blinded by faith statements which are ungodly?
Can faith be flexible and open us to transformational moments? How can our
faith journey be kidnapped by culture, intellect, fear or antiquated beliefs?
Today is New Year’s
Eve, Christ the King Sunday. Next week we begin the season of Advent, a season
of self-examination and expectation. It is a season when we wrestle with Godly
intentions. Why did God send Jesus? Why did God become involved in the
waywardness of humanity? What is heaven? Can there be heaven on earth? How
expansive is the idea of being a child of God? What is truth?
The
beginning of fear is when we are too fearful to examine the world through the
lens of our faith or when we are too fearful to examine our faith through the
lens of the world. Tomorrow a new year begins. Have the courage to plunge into
the mysterious and revealing essences of God’s Word. Use Advent Season to
wisely address your hopes and fears. Pray unceasingly that new answers and
perhaps new questions might arise as together we search not only for truth but
a deeper trust in the one we call Alpha and Omega.
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