First and Last Things
By REv. Dr. Karin Case
May 16, 2010
The Seventh Sunday of Easter
Lessons: Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21
Text: Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21
‘See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.’
Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates.
‘It is I, Jesus, who sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.’
The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
The one who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen.
Let me begin with a confession. I have, for the most part, avoided preaching on the Book of Revelation. Filled with apocalyptic imagery, scenes of a “final battle” and the “last judgment,” it depicts a vengeful God in cosmic battle with the forces of evil. It is a weird book. The world described in this scripture—realms populated by demons strange beasts—feels alien to me and so does its theology. If you can picture that great wall in the Vatican chapel, painted by Michelangelo, that depicts sinners being cast into hell, then you get the flavor of Revelation.
I wonder if it is even possible to reconcile Revelation’s images of fire, torment and vengeance with the gentle Jesus who proclaims love and forgiveness? Wouldn’t you rather be taking a stroll by the Sea of Galilee about now? Sounds pleasant!
If you are among those who doubt the meaning and value of this decidedly odd book—the last book of the Bible—it turns out you are in rather good company. It has been controversial since it’s beginning. In the fourth century, historian, Eusebius, lists Revelation as “contested” scripture. Cyril of Jerusalem “omitted it from his list of canonical books.” Luther and Zwingli refused to base Christian teaching on the book, and Calvin wrote commentaries on the twenty-six other New Testament books, but was silent on the book of Revelation.
So I was intrigued when this passage appeared among this week’s lectionary readings. One of the good things about the lectionary is that is invites us to find the word of God even in texts that seem very, very odd. The lectionary is also a bit like a Labrador Retriever with a ball. Even if you’d prefer to ignore it, it’ll come up and drop the ball at your feet, over and over and over, until you really have to pay attention. So, let’s play ball. Let’s take a look!
Revelation was written at the end of the first century as a pastoral letter to churches in the Roman province of Asia, on what is now the west coast Turkey. The letter was written by a Christian prophet, someone called John. We don’t know a great deal about John. But we do know he was not one of the apostles and he is no relation to the author of the gospel of John. Best dates for the letter place it around 96 A.D. during the reign of Emperor Domitian.
The date is important because it helps establish the context. John was writing to a church in crisis. It was twenty to thirty years after the destruction of Jerusalem. Rome was at war. Earthquakes shook the region in the sixties, Vesuvius erupted in 79, famines followed in the nineties. It was an unstable and frightening time.
The political and religious landscape was tumultuous. As Christianity began to differentiate itself from Judaism, there was internal conflict among the churches. And the Roman Empire was an equal opportunity persecutor—coming down hard on both Jewish and Christian communities.
The new Christian sect was set on the margins of Roman society. Attracting many members of the lower economic classes and meeting in private homes, rumors flew about the strange new group. They were purported to carry out strange, cultic rituals, eating flesh and drinking blood, engaging in love feasts, and singing antiphonal hymns before dawn!
It soon became clear that members of this sect proclaimed Jesus kurios—Lord––and they refused to renounce allegiance to their God. A mere two decades later, under the reign of Trajan, the young Christian community felt the full wrath of Rome. Members were tortured and executed if they refused to renounce their Christian beliefs and practices. John was writing for churches under great duress, congregations that would face terrible persecution. It is to them that John writes the letter we call “Revelation.”
It is not casual reading for the Adirondack chair by the lake, but a public letter to congregations under extreme duress.
John writes in apocalyptic language, talking of the consummation of history. He writes of “a new heaven and a new earth,” a new Jerusalem. His vision is that the world, which has always belonged to God and to Christ, will be claimed once and for all for Christ’s new era. The Babylonian conquest—history. The Roman persecution—history. The powers of evil—vanquished. All things bright and new.
Christ triumphant will come to claim all of history. And in the words most familiar to us from Handel’s oratorio, all creation will “become the kingdom of our Lord, and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever.” (Rev 11:15)
John’s letter is full of rich imagery. The verses we read today speak of robes washed clean, the tree of life, the gates of the heavenly city, the root of David, the water of life, and of Christ—the bright morning star.
We find a blend of mystical and familiar, everyday images. The frame is cosmic in scale. “I am the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” But John’s letter is also an invitation to action! Wash up those robes, friends. Clean up! Get your priorities in order, and come! Come to the fountain of life, all who are thirsty.
I confess that I love the ethereal, mystical images—dazzling light, bright morning star, tree of life. They speak of realms that lie just beyond our ordinary perception and understanding. If you have any inclination toward mysticism, you may know what I’m talking about! The early Christian monastic traditions are full of the imagery of Christ as the bright morning star. The son (s-o-n) is like the sun (s-u-n).
My yoga and meditation teacher is fond of reminding his students of the preciousness of our human bodies. Every element of which we are made, he says, was forged billions of years ago inside a star. If we see this image through a Christian lens, what an amazing thing it is, to be here, now in the flesh, connected —from the beginning—to God’s act of creation! And what a precious opportunity we have today, to respond to God’s invitation.
John speaks of the grandeur of God and the all-encompassing nature of God’s spirit and purpose. “I am the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.” God is the ground of our being, our origin, the source of our life, our sustenance, and our destination. God is our first breath and our last breath. God is the gift of life itself, the entire context in which (as Paul says) “we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28)
I am the alpha and the omega. Most of us are familiar with the time management strategy that goes like this: You wake up in the morning with a whole slew of things that need attention. You make a to-do list of items for the day or the week. And then you set priorities. You give each item on the list a ranking: “A” for the most important, highest priority tasks, “B” for something that’s less important or less urgent, “C” for something you want to get to eventually. I guess in keeping with John’s alpha-and-omega-Greek, items on our to-do list might be ranked alpha, beta, and gamma.
We may not expect a day of judgment, like that pictured in the book of Revelation. We may not anticipate the imminent return of Christ, the end-time, or culmination of history, as Christians did in those first years after Jesus. But we don’t have to imagine cataclysmic judgment to feel the precious opportunity that is the gift before us. Here we are—today—in the flesh, with a chance to put things of great importance on our “A List.”
So, friends, what’s on your “A list”? What are the “alpha priorities,” the life tasks and spiritual pursuits that have enduring importance? What actions will help you fulfill your ultimate purpose, God’s purpose for you? What act of kindness, what movement of apology or forgiveness needs to go on your “A List?” Is there anything you need to set right? Is there someone to whom you need to say “I’m sorry,” or “thank you,” or “I love you?’
Now is the time, friends. None of us can count our days. Now is the time. Perhaps we do not believe in impending judgment, but when we consider the preciousness of what we have been given, how can we fail to respond? Perhaps we do not need to resolve the age-old controversies about who will be saved, or the nature of Christ’s second coming to grasp the opportunity of this moment now.
This much is certain. As one commentator writes, “John intends to a present picture which portrays human beings as responsible for our decisions, a picture of how inexpressibly terrible it is to reject one’s creator and live one’s life in allegiance to false gods.”
John’s letter is a call to action. He writes, “blessed are those who wash their robes!” They will be ready to enter the new Jerusalem. Apply a little elbow grease, friends! And you’ll be ready to enter the holy city. John’s image of robes washed clean—is an ancient metaphor. Don’t think “a quarter of a cup of detergent in your energy-efficient, front-loading washing machine, extra rinse cycle, spin dry.”
Think of carrying a load down to the river and letting the muscles of your back and arms do the work to wash out the dust and grime. Think of letting the flow of the river rinse things clean. And the warmth of the sun making them fresh and dry.
A little elbow grease and a lot of grace. Because here’s the good news: no matter where God is on your list of priorities, you are on God’s “A-list.”
Even when we can’t forgive ourselves and each other, even when we are confused or weak, or don’t believe in ourselves. Even when we fritter away our time with things that don’t even make the list—A, B, or C—we are God’s greatest love and highest priority.
Friends, these are the very last words of the Bible. The Last words of the last chapter of the last book. No matter if you’re unsure. The Spirit says, Come!
No matter if you’re irascible or cantankerous or hard to get along with. The bride—that is, the church, says, Come!
Everyone who hears, say, “Come!” Say it with me: “Come!” “Come Lord Jesus.”
Let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes, take the water of life as a gift. And the grace of the Lord Jesus be with us all. Amen.