Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

The revelation of Jesus Christ , which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place; he made it known by sending his angel to his servant John (NRSV translation; emphasis added).

In the original Greek text, the word "revelation" actually is apocalypsis. This is a rare word in the New Testament, occurring a total of only 18 times, and only once – here in Revelation 1:1 – as the singular subject of a sentence. Just as "revelation" or "apocalypse" is rare in the New Testament, so too it is rare for Presbyterians and many other Christians to spend much time with this book and its bizarre visions.

Given its length, Revelation surely is the least preached-upon book in the entire New Testament. For those who follow the Revised Common Lectionary, readings from Revelation only occur on the second through seventh Sundays of Easter in Year C of the lectionary cycle – which is where we happen to be right now. On this sixth Sunday of Easter, we have the rare opportunity to open up the vision of "John" – and see what it offers for us some 2,000 years later.

On the other hand, those of us who have attended many funerals and memorial services are all too familiar with these words from Revelation 21:1-4:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he 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."

Given our association of this text with death, it is not surprising that many Christians are uncomfortable with the idea of apocalypse as presented by the book of Revelation. It presents a troubling, even frightening vision, filled with incomprehensible images. Over the centuries, the very idea of apocalypse has taken on a negative quality. From Albrecht Dürer’s series of woodcuts of "The Apocalypse of St. John" (1496-1498) to Francis Ford Coppola’s treatment of the insanity of the Vietnam War in his movie Apocalypse Now (1979), we have come to associate apocalypse with the end of the age.

This morning, I would like to turn upside down this negative image of apocalypse and revelation. Our text takes us to the last two chapters of The Revelation to John. If you would like to follow along, take a Bible and turn nearly to the end – in the case of the pew Bibles, to pages 249-250.

First, why did the scholars, preachers, and other experts on the committee that created the Revised Standard Lectionary decide to place the readings from Revelation in the season of Easter? They must have seen a connection between Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection and the vision of the author of Revelation. They must have understood the possibilities for bringing new life from death.

Second, regardless of the liturgical season during which we may read Revelation, we can see that the author understands that real life is grounded in our relationship with God. With apocalypse, we no longer are separated from God, but instead God is with us. When the author of Revelation says, "See, the home [or dwelling, in the RSV] of God is among mortals," the Greek word for "home" or "dwelling" he uses is the same as the one used by the Gospel writers to describe what we find in the Transfiguration – the event on the mountaintop when Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" (Luke 9:33).

This parallel to the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration is not accidental. In ancient days, it was common to have significant events take place on mountaintops. Moses went to the mountain to get the ten commandments and went to another mountaintop to look over into the promised land. Elijah went up to Mount Carmel where he challenged the priests of Ba’al and later was (re)commissioned at Mount Horeb in Sinai.

Like Moses, Elijah, and even Peter, the author of Revelation found himself lifted up "in the spirit" to "a great, high mountain," where the angel showed him "the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God" (21:10).

The Lectionary omits the author’s overview of the holy city, though it is described in glowing detail in verses 11-21. Then, in verse 22, we learn that the city had no temple in the traditional structural sense. Instead, "its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb." The author of Revelation goes on to describe this visionary city, concluding that its peoples will "need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever" (22:5).

Indeed, this is a remarkable vision of the heavenly city. But I am struck less by the glowing details of its construction than by the way in which the peoples and God become one. No longer will we need lamps or even the sun, for God will be our light. This is good, don’t you agree?

Now consider the last part of that same sentence: "and they will reign forever and ever." This sounds familiar, but not quite right? Remember the Hallelujah Chorus in Handel’s Messiah? Handel crafted a masterful chorus around the text of Revelation 11:15, "The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever."

What is going on here? What happened between chapter 11, where "he"(the Messiah) will reign forever and ever," and chapter 22, where "they will reign forever and ever"? How did the "peoples" join God in this eternal reign? [pause]

Perhaps you remember when the comedian Flip Wilson had a show on NBC (1970-1974), or you have seen The Flip Wilson Show on TVLand on cable or satellite. One of his main characters was Reverend Leroy, pastor at "The Church of What’s Happening Now." Truly a church in name only, "The Church of What’s Happening Now" was a place where the offering plate and individual prosperity claimed viewers’ attention. It was an intentional parody of religion, as week after week Reverend Leroy poked fun at the material elements of our lives.

Here at Trinity, we are not "The Church of What’s Happening Now." Nor are we just "The Church of What Used to be Happening." Though we are few in number, we are strong in our commitment to community, both within these walls and in our neighborhood, in our city, and in our world. At this point in the life of our congregation, we are widely recognized as "The Church That Helps to Keep It Happening." Whether responding to tsunamis and hurricanes, to AIDS, to literacy and citizenship issues, or to homelessness and transitional housing, we still open our doors, volunteer our time and effort, and write checks to help those in need. In all of this, we still are doing what is right and righteous, what is true and faithful, and what is just and equitable. In all of this, we still are striving to be inclusive. In all of this, we still are building community. And this is the kind of community in which we truly share in God’s reign.

As Presbyterians, we believe that God is willing to share eternity with us because God is full of grace and mercy. It is God’s willingness to come to us through Jesus Christ and to be with us through the Holy Spirit that gives meaning to our lives and makes tangible the promise of heaven. Even though we do not claim to deserve what God gives us, we are always grateful that God is for us. Amen.

© 2007 Van Kemper (e-mail: rkemper@trinitypresdallas.org)