Sunday, May 15, 2022

May 15, 2022 - The Fifth Sunday of Easter

Lectionary Readings

In the name of the One who is Alpha and Omega, our Way, our Truth, and our Life: Jesus Christ. Amen.

            Here’s a riddle: a father and his son are in a horrible car accident and the father died at the scene. The son is rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. The surgeon enters the operating room, sees the patient on the table and says “I can’t operate – that boy is my son.” How is this possible? According to rigorous research at Boston University, only about 15 percent of people figure it out the first time they hear this riddle. The answer is quite obvious and simple: the surgeon is the boy’s mother. Also, nearly identical results are found when the scenario is changed to a mother and daughter being in the accident and a nurse saying “That girl is my daughter” with the nurse being the father. And, of course, children of same-sex couples would likewise be overlooked as possible answers to the riddle. This riddle is often used in racial equity workshops to demonstrate how bias clouds our judgment and makes us miss the obvious. When it comes to considering the topic presented to us in today’s text from Revelation we are similarly confused.

            If I were to ask you to point in the direction of heaven, most of us have been conditioned to point up. And if I were to ask you which direction you’d like to go when you die, likewise, most of us would point up. This is the result of letting mythology and cultural tropes be our GPS instead of Scripture. When it comes to questions related to heaven, we are disoriented and confused. And this matters. It’s something like pin the tail on the donkey – we’ve been blindfolded and spun around. Because of this disorientation, we’re likely to be way off target. As we continue our series through Revelation in Easter, we consider the direction and destination of all things.

            When it comes to heaven there are two questions that most people ask: what is heaven and how do we get there? The standard answers given to us by culture and misinformed Christians are “heaven is the place where God is” and “we go up there after we die.” Both of these answers are fundamentally wrong. And I’m not just giving you my take on things when I make that accusation, as it becomes as clear and obvious as the boy’s mother being the surgeon when we pay attention to Scripture.

            To understand the final two chapters of Scripture, Revelation 21 and 22, we have to keep in mind the first two chapters of Scripture: Genesis 1 and 2. In the beginning, humanity finds itself in a garden where there is abundant food and resources, where the tree of life is present, and where there is no death, crying, or pain. And God is present in the garden. This is what God intended in Creation and this whole setup is called “very good.” Then, because of disobedience, humanity is no longer fit to remain in the garden, but God very much longs, desires, and works to restore what has been lost to humanity, first through the matriarchs and patriarchs, then the prophets, then through God Incarnate in the flesh of Jesus, and then through the Spirit-empowered Church. Revelation assures us of the culmination of the story – the goodness of Creation restored fully. That, in a nutshell, is the entire story of Scripture. For us to understand heaven, we have to keep Eden in mind.

            It’s odd that Christians so regularly get confused about this (and I absolutely include myself in this). Daily, we pray “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” All we need to know is right there. We get it right every time we use the prayer that Jesus gave us. The kingdom comes to earth like it is in heaven. We don’t ask to be taken into heaven. That’s the wrong direction. Instead, we pray that heaven comes here. When we turn to the vision of Revelation we hear John record that “I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven.” And then a voice comes from the throne, so presumably, it is the voice of our Good Shepherd, the Lamb, who says “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God.” It is not “God will bring us all up to heaven;” no, very clearly, it is “God will come and dwell with us.”

            This is the first question about heaven that we misunderstand – the “how we get there.” Surprise! It’s all about grace. We don’t have to earn our way “up there” or choose to go to heaven, or even hope that we get to go to heaven. No, God comes to us on earth as it is in heaven. This is important because it fundamentally changes our relationship with the world around us.

            Revelation notes that there is a new heaven and a new earth – and translation matters here. “New” does not carry the sense of meaning of brand-new. The lovely Bell Tower Green that sits a block from here is a brand-new park. There is now a park where there had not been one. Revelation speaks about a different kind of newness, where there is continuity with what came before while having an added depth and character. One of the best ways to understand this newness that describes the new heaven and earth is the recently dedicated Transfiguration icon. Jesus shimmers with the radiance of newness. He does not cease to be Jesus, but something new, something deeper and truer is seen in him at this moment. So we might say that “transfigured” is a better way of understanding being “new.”

            Why this matters is that it works against people who read Revelation as a prediction that God is going to destroy all things and then replace them with version 2.0. This erroneous belief leads us to neglect the sacred duty we were given in the garden to be stewards and keepers of the earth. Some Christians wrongly believe that since it’s all going to be destroyed and replaced, then it doesn’t matter if we trash the planet. It also means that too often we disregard the holiness of our bodies – calling them mere shells or containers for our souls. But the witness of Scripture is clear – what God intends to resurrect is not some immaterial soul, that’s a concept that comes from Greek philosophy, not Judaism or Christianity. Rather, it is our very bodies that will be made new, transfigured, in the glory of the Resurrection. And the same is true for this planet and all things. So how we treat the animals that we eat matters, how we care for the earth matters, how we use our bodies matters. All things are gifts from God, and our faithful stewardship of these gifts matters.

            The vision of our faith and of Revelation is not that God will make all new things, but rather that God will make all things new. And this happens by God coming to dwell with Creation and thereby bring heaven to earth. The direction of heaven is not that we go up, but rather it comes  to us.

            And to the second question – what is heaven? The standard answer changes a bit from person to person, but it usually includes the word “place.” It’s the place with golden streets, it’s the place where God’s throne is, it’s the place we go after we die, it’s the place of eternal life. Such responses might have some truth in them, but they’re not quite right. Even if we acknowledge the limits of metaphysics, heaven is not properly described as a “place.” Heaven can never be talked about in terms of “where,” but rather “who.” Heaven is a relationship, not a place; and the word that best describes heaven is “communion.”

            This is what humanity’s relationship with God was like in Eden – humans were fully in communion with God. There were no barriers in the relationship. As we heard in Revelation though, there are barriers for us on this side of Eden. Those barriers are described as tears, death, mourning, crying, and pain. The vision of Revelation is that the home of God is among mortals – and that is what heaven is: God being with us. It doesn’t matter if that happens here or there. What makes heaven is communion with God.

            Given this understanding of heaven, the accessibility and availability of heaven is radically changed. Heaven isn’t a place across the River Styx where only the dead can go. Heaven is not a place only for the righteous or those who have followed all the rules or had the right formula for religious belief. No, heaven is communion with God. To be sure, we still struggle with pain, sin, doubt, selfishness, ignorance, and death – so our glimpses of heaven are always limited, as looking through a glass with smudges on it. But they are glimpses nevertheless.

            And there are certain times and encounters when the fog lifts and we do have fuller experiences of this mystic sweet communion with God. Sometimes such glimpses are called the “beatific vision” – when we have glimpses of the fullness of heaven even on this side of the transfigured earth. One place we see this is in the lives of the saints. They show us the sort of courage, generosity, and commitment that come from a deep and intimate relationship with God. Another place we are brought into closer communion with God is in the Holy Eucharist – when we are given a foretaste of the banquet of heaven. God came down to us in Jesus and gave us his Body and Blood, the Bread of Heaven and the Cup of Salvation that we might commune with God and one another more fully. This is what makes the Eucharist so special and holy and why it is at the center of our identity and worship – it is the gift by which God makes heaven available to us by becoming both our host and our food to nourish us in grace and love.

            This heavenly communion with God is also something that I see in the recently dedicated Pentecost icon. What is depicted there is the Day of Pentecost which happened some 2,000 years ago, but it is, at the same time, also a window into the timeless and transcendent communion of heaven. For one, bread and a chalice are present, but so is the fullness of beloved community with the children of God across time and space – and all are gathered in the power of the Holy Spirit of God’s presence with and among us. That icon, like all icons, is not a piece of art that we observe from the outside, rather it is a reflection of a deeper reality. That icon does not end with the frame that surrounds it, rather it extends into our church, our community, our world. In college, my campus minister was fond of telling us to “see Communion in everything,” which is another way of saying “see heaven everywhere” which is possible because God is always with us. And when we are aware of this communion with God, we enter into heaven.

            Now, the future hope of heaven is when this relationship with God is unencumbered by the distractions of mourning, crying, and pain; when Sin and Death no longer have influence over us. So I am not saying that heaven is no better than what is all around us; to be sure, God intends and promises us fully into communion in a transfigured way. But heaven is also not something less than what surrounds us; because heaven is not a place, it is a relationship. And this means that spending time cultivating this relationship allows us to experience heavenly more fully. Just as in any relationship, doing things like sharing meals and conversations deepen and grow the relationship, so when it comes to God, when we invest time in prayer, surrounding ourselves with beauty, service to others, and participating in the Sacraments, we put ourselves in a place to be nourished from the abundance of God’s love. Heaven is not a place, but rather the presence of God with us.

            The way we think about heaven is too often like wandering through a forest with no map or compass. Scripture though tells us exactly what heaven is and how we participate in it. Heaven comes to us from the overflowing and gracious love of God, and this love is for us to know, enjoy, and share right now. For a lot of people, this is a paradigm shift; a radical rethinking and reordering of things. It will take time for this corrected vision to help us to see our faith and our world more truly and fully. For now though, every time we pray “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven,” we can say that line not just as rote prayer, but rather as our hope and as a reminder of the gift of heavenly communion with God, both now and to be perfected in eternity.