Revelation 21:1-6
5th Sunday of Easter (C)
April 28, 2013
William G. Carter
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 as their God; 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."
And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See, I am making all things
new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and
true." Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega,
the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the
spring of the water of life.”
"Some
passages, like this one, should be read and left alone." That's advice
from Charles Rice, who taught preaching at a Methodist seminary for many years.
"Just read the words. Put them in the air. Let the words do their
work."
It's
true that some texts need no commentary. Either the time is right, and we are
ready to hear the words. Or the text has enough voltage to create its own
current. My friend Charles says, "Just read Revelation 21 and leave it
alone."
Generally
that is good advice. But I'm a preacher. And I have 19 more minutes yet to go.
What can I say about a passage should be left alone?
Particularly
a text like this one. If the 23rd Psalm is the favorite passage that most lay
people want read at their funerals, the first six verses of Revelation 21 are
among the favorite verses for ministers. When I planned my funeral a number of years
ago, I made sure that this text will be read when I die. If possible, I want a
sermon to be preached on this passage. It's one of my favorites, and for a
number of reasons.
The
chief reason, drawing on the final line of the text, is that I am thirsty for
its promises. I am tired of death and mourning and tears. I am weary of never
seeing God face to face. The old creation can be painful, so give us a new one!
Years ago, I
was assigned to preach a sermon on this text by the Alumni/ae Association at
Princeton Seminary. Actually it went something like this – I slipped down the
hall to go to the men’s room and they needed someone to preside at a memorial
service. So I got the assignment, to preach as the names were read of a hundred-twenty-five
seminary graduates who had died that year.
I
didn’t know most of those people. But as soon as I read the Revelation text,
peace and hope passed into the room. We heard the promises God had for them and
for us: "a new heaven, a new earth, a new city coming down, every tear
will be wiped away, death will be no more, mourning, crying, and pain will be
no more." I can't explain those words. Any attempt to reduce them or
manage them would be in vain. They are simply too big for us to comprehend. But
I can tell you that they are true.
What
I'm getting at is this: the words we hear this morning point to a realm beyond
the harsh suffering of this life. In short, they point to something we call
"heaven."
And
when I say that word "heaven," I need to say very clearly that I'm
talking about something that's way over my head. We can tell stories about
golden harps. We can paint pictures of other-worldly beings with wings. We can
even tell jokes about the three guys who met St. Peter at the gate. But the
fact of the matter is, when we talk about heaven, do we have any idea what
we're talking about?
Most
of us would agree that whatever heaven actually is, it's vastly different from
anything we know. I recall the advice given by a Scottish cleric to a group of
young preachers. "When you speak of heaven," he said, "let your
smile widen, your eyes sparkle, your countenance shine. But when you speak of
hell, well, your every-day face will do."
It's
difficult to say what heaven is like, other than it's nothing like anything
around here. As one of Garrison Keillor's friends once asked on a radio joke
show, "Do you know why New Yorkers are so depressed? It's because the
light at the end of the tunnel is New Jersey." We want something
different. We pray that heaven will - somehow - be different.
A
lot of people think of heaven as a place of eternal rest. They're so busy in
this life, they want to relax in the next life. "Rest in peace." In
fact, that picture has so dominated our thinking that it's raised some
questions.
My
good friend Guy Griffith spent some time with a task force that wrote a church
catechism that our confirmation class is now working through. A catechism is a
question-and-answer document to be used in teaching Christian faith.
The
catechism is a solid piece of work, but Guy says when it was first written,
there was one question that strikes people as being out of place. It's question
88. "Won't heaven be a boring place?" The answer, of course, begins
with the word "No." The answer begins, “No, heaven is our true home,
a world of love…” But I think it's telling that such a question would even be
asked, much less printed.
What
do we expect? Eugene Peterson writes,
"Many people want to go to heaven the way they want to go to Florida -
they think the weather will be an improvement and the people decent. But the
biblical heaven is not a nice environment far removed from the stress of hard
city life. It is the invasion of the city by the (Holy) City. We enter heaven
not by escaping what we don't like, but by the sanctification of the place in
which God has placed us.”[1]
According
to the writer of Revelation 21, heaven is a holy city that comes down here. God
makes a home within our midst. We are not snatched away into the clouds;
rather, the Mystery beyond the clouds comes down and draws near to us. As
Peterson continues, "There is not so much as a hint of escapism in St.
John's heaven. This is not a long (eternal) weekend away from the
responsibilities of employment and citizenship, but the intensification and
healing of them. Heaven is formed out of dirty streets and murderous alleys . .
. a city, but now a holy city."[2]
Perhaps
you heard about the church that wanted to clean its stained glass windows. They
had a glorious window of the Holy City, the New Jerusalem. Everything sparkled
and gleamed, and they hadn't realized that the glass was so covered with dirt
and soot. As they wiped away the grime, something astonishing happened. They
could see the buildings of their own community through this window. Because of
that, some of those church people couldn't look at their own community quite
the same way again. They started a soup kitchen, because in the final city of
God, every person will be fed. They started a tutoring program after school,
because in the New Jerusalem, every child will have the full knowledge of the
children of God. They began to see their city through the lens of God's eternal
city.
What
do we expect of heaven? Words fail us. When the writer of this book talks about
heaven, his language is poetic, not sequential. Every sentence is clipped. But
he points to the promise that God is coming to be with God's people.
According
to the story line of Revelation, "the funeral is over and a wedding is in
progress."[3]
Ever since chapter 6, we have heard a rhythm of woes, plagues, calamities, and
disasters, countered at every turn by triumphant saints and songs of praise.
The old world is fading, gasping and moaning all the way. By chapter 21, all of
that will be over, and a new creation is on the way. The bridal feast between
God and the church is announced. The new heaven is born, a new earth is given,
a new city comes down. The pictures clash with one another, to be sure, and we
stretch for words which describe it.
But
the one thing we know is that there will no longer be any distance between God
and God's people. No longer will we have to say "God is here" when
God is nowhere in sight. No longer will we live by whispered assurances.
Remember that curtain which was ripped apart when Jesus died? The day is coming
when the whole thing will be taken down, and what we have caught in glimpses
shall be seen face to face.
If
God can come that close, every tear will be wiped away. Every sorrow will be
satisfied. This side of the Jordan River, it is impossible for us to know how.
But thanks to what we've seen God do in raising Jesus from the dead, it is
possible for us to know Who. What has been done for Jesus shall ultimately be
done for us.
I
met a retired man who reminisced of taking the famous theologian Paul Tillich
to the airport one time. Tillich had just finished giving a brilliant but
somewhat obtuse lecture to a group of ministers on the topic of eternal life.
The airport was two hours away, and Jim thought he could spend the time talking
to Dr. Tillich and figuring out what he had just heard.
They
started out for the airport and conversation didn't go very well. Jim kept
asking questions that made less sense to his guest than the lecture had to him.
Finally Dr. Tillich looked at him in considerable dismay. In a thick German
accent he said, "Look, all it means is that God is going to win.”[4]
That's
the one thing we know for certain. God is going to win. We cannot know how, but
we can trust Who. The city that crucified Jesus shall become the New Jerusalem.
All that God has promised us in whispers shall be shouted from the rooftops.
All that God has given in glimpses shall be seen in complete splendor. Indeed,
"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."
Heaven
is still a matter that remains above our heads. But we can speak of what we
know, in the full assurance that it is promised in Jesus, our Lord, and shall
be completed in the power of God. So let me close with some words from St.
Augustine:
Let us sing
alleluia here on earth, while we still live in anxiety, so that we may sing it
one day in heaven in full security . . . We shall have no enemies in heaven, we
shall never lose a friend.
God's praises
are sung both there and here,
but here they
are sung in anxiety, there in security;
here they are
sung by those destined to die, there, by those destined to live forever;
here they are
sung in hope, there in hope's fulfillment;
here, they are
sung by wayfarers, there by those living in their own country.
So then . . .
let us sing now, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure,
but in order
to lighten our labors.
You should
sing as wayfarers do - sing, but continue your journey . . .
Sing then, but
keep going.[5]
And
God said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true."
[1] Eugene
H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying
Imagination (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988) 174.
[2] ibid,
174.
[3] Rudolph
W. Raber, "Expository Article: Revelation 21:1-8," Interpretation:
296-301.
[4] "God is Going
to Win," James E. Andrews, The Protestant Hour, PRTV, Atlanta, 12 June
1977.
[5] As
quoted in Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace (New York: Riverhead Books, 1998) 368.
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