Sermon preached at Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church,
11.00 28 April 2019
Revelation 1.1-20
Listen to this sermon here: https://soundcloud.com/bloomsbury-1/apocalypse-now-1-heavens-perspective-on-power
This morning is the first of our new series,
which we
will be coming back to from time to time over the coming year,
in which
we will be working our way through the book of Revelation.
In the interest of transparency, I probably ought to declare
my hand at this point.
My PhD is on the book of Revelation,
I’ve
published a books and articles about it for many years,
and for
eight years until recently I chaired the Revelation seminar
at the British New Testament Conference.
I’m also
regularly invited to speak on Revelation
in churches and to groups of ministers,
including
on one memorable occasion to a group
known as ‘Sceptics in a
pub’.
However, what I haven’t done, in the seven years I’ve been
at Bloomsbury,
is preach
on it in a systematic way.
Hence, this year’s sermon series…
This morning’s sermon is going to be a kind of introductory
sermon,
offering
what I think is a helpful way of reading Revelation in our day and age,
and this
may be a bit different to what you’ve heard elsewhere in the past.
We will also be seeing how we can hear from this ancient and
fascinating text
in ways
that inform our Christian discipleship
and
challenge us to be better disciples of Jesus.
One of the problems with Revelation
is that
people often seem to forget
that it has a very specific historical context
and they
read it as if it was written directly for us today.
This, I think, is to do a disservice to the text,
and it is
to make it do things that it wasn’t written to do.
Also, many of those who have set dates,
made
films, or written books about the end of the world
have
claimed inspiration from the book of Revelation.
In fact, if you ask most people what they know about
Revelation,
one of the
first things they will say
is that
it’s about the end of the world.
And it’s true, there is a lot of imagery in Revelation
that
sounds pretty catastrophic
(‘apocalyptic’, you might say, but we’ll come to that…).
However, is it actually accurate to say that Revelation is
about the end of the world?
Well, yes
and no.
If what we mean is,
‘is the book
of revelation a kind of “Dummies Guide” to the end of the world?’,
then no, it isn’t.
And those
who have tried to make it such can show us
that Revelation is no better at helping us predict
the date of
the end of the world
than, say,
Nostradamus!
However, there may be another way Revelation
can speak
to us very powerfully about the end of the world.
Have you ever heard someone say,
perhaps
after a tragic bereavement or a serious illness,
‘it was the end of the world’?
They clearly don’t mean that the world has literally ended,
and to
assume they did would be to miss their point.
What they mean is that the world as they knew it has gone,
and they
are now living in a new world,
a world that is in a very real sense different
to the world that they lived in before.
Of course such world-ending, or world-transforming, events
aren’t
always tragic or traumatic,
sometimes it can be a positive thing that ends one world and
starts another,
think of
the unexpected lottery win,
or falling
in love, or becoming a parent.
The old world ends, and a new world begins.
So when the book of Revelation uses imagery and language
about the
end of the world,
it is telling its readers that if they understand its
message,
if they
spend time with its prophetic images,
they too will experience ‘the end of the world’
as their
old world is brought to an end,
and they
find ourselves entering a new world
in which Jesus Christ is at the centre of creation,
drawing all things and all people to himself.
Those who have sought to confine Revelation
to the
realm of predictive prophecy
make it of relevance really only to those
who happen
to find themselves living in the ‘last days’ of planet Earth;
which
almost always, they think, includes them!
The difficulty with this is that they run the risk of
alienating the book
from the
vast swathe of humanity
(probably including ourselves, unless we really are the ‘last
generation’)
who have
been born, lived, and died
within the normal course of history.
Christians usually assert that the Bible is of equal
relevance to all,
whether
you live and die in the first, eleventh or twenty-first centuries.
So, if the book of Revelation is to be of relevance to all generations,
not just
the last generation,
and if it proclaims a message of world-ending significance
rather
than simply predicting the end of the world,
what is it that is so special about the message of
Revelation?
Authorship
A good place to start finding an answer to this question
is to
consider what significance and effect the book had
on those
for whom it was initially written.
We are fortunate with Revelation because (unlike some other
biblical books)
we have a
very clear understanding of the first recipients.
This is because Revelation is a circular letter,
written to
be sent round seven churches in seven cities in Asia Minor
(modern day Turkey).
These seven churches are named in chapter 1 v. 11,
which we
had read to us earlier.
And although the whole text is intended for each church,
it begins
with some short letters
addressed
to the seven churches individually (chs 2-3)
which we
shall come on to in more detail next time.
These letters tell us that those who first read Revelation
were a
mixed group of Jews and Gentiles,
living in fairly wealthy and cosmopolitan cities,
fully
integrated into the politics, economics and religions
of the
Roman Empire of the second half of the first century AD.
Those in the churches of the seven cities
would have
encountered the full force
of the propaganda of the Roman Empire on a daily basis,
with all
aspects of culture
from architecture to art, from finance to family life
reinforcing the mythology of Rome,
focussing around emperor worship
and the Graeco-Roman pantheon of pagan gods.
Anyone who wanted to worship Jesus as Lord
was
immediately putting themselves not only at odds
with the dominant practices of society,
but at
odds with the empire itself;
which was a dangerous place to be.
Only a few years before Revelation was written,
the
emperor Nero had systematically persecuted
anyone who would not worship him,
and had
enacted a range of horrific punishments
on those who refused to comply.
The author of Revelation is desperately concerned
that those
in the churches he is writing to do not compromise.
But instead of simply writing a note saying,
‘don’t
worship the emperor, don’t give up, don’t compromise’,
he sends them a captivating and riveting vision,
which invites them to use their
imaginations
to see their world differently,
to see
through the lies and propaganda of the empire,
and to live lives of devoted faithfulness
to Jesus as the Lord of their lives.
There are many mysteries associated with the book of
Revelation,
not least
who wrote it and when.
The text itself gives us a name,
saying it
is a Revelation given to ‘John’,
but the problem is that we don’t know which ‘John’ this is.
Traditionally it was believed to have been
John the
brother of James and disciple of Jesus,
who was also believed to have written ‘John’s’ Gospel
and the
three letters of John.
However, scholars now think it very unlikely
that John
the apostle (who we meet in Matthew, Mark and Luke’s gospels)
wrote the fourth gospel or the letters,
and even
less likely that he wrote the book of Revelation.
The most that can be said with any certainty
was that
the author self-identifies as a man called ‘John’
who was a Jewish convert to Christianity
and had pastoral responsibility for seven churches in Asia Minor.
There is a similar uncertainty about the date it was
written,
with the
traditional date of 95 AD (during the reign of Domitian)
giving way
to other possibilities such as 71 AD (during the reign of Vespasian).
This earlier date puts the writing of Revelation
much
closer to the tyrannical deeds of Nero (emperor 54–68 AD),
who crops up in the book (but not by name)
as a personification of the satanic forces of evil.
As he writes, the author of Revelation casts his mind back
to those
times in the past
when the people of God had struggled to remain faithful
under the pressure to compromise to an oppressive empire.
And so he uses imagery from the Israelite enslavement in
Egypt,
painting
pictures of sequences of plagues
which echo
the plagues that preceded Israel’s release from Egyptian slavery.
He also borrows imagery from the stories of the Israelite
exile in Babylon,
referencing the visions from the book of Daniel
which speak of resistance to the empire
and
unswerving faithfulness to God.
Throughout Revelation, Rome is consistently referred to as
‘Babylon’,
as the
first century Roman empire is spoken of
in terms of the ancient Babylonian empire.
The invitation here is for readers in any century
to
identify the empires of their own day
with the
notorious hostile empires of the past.
The author borrows more than just language from the book of
Daniel,
he also
borrows the style of writing known as apocalyptic.
This was a genre greatly enjoyed by the Jews
in the
couple of hundred years before Revelation was written,
and which functioned for them
in a way
not dissimilar to how Science Fiction functions for us today.
If we were to watch an episode of Star Trek, or a futuristic
sci-fi film,
we would
know that what we were watching
wasn’t a detailed prediction of what the future would be like.
Nor would we sit around trying to work out
at what
date it would all come true.
As we sit here this morning, the year 2001 is firmly in the
past,
a date
immortalised in the influential sci-fi novel of that name by Arthur C. Clarke,
and popularised by the Stanley Kubrick film.
The fact that the events described in the novel and depicted
in the film
didn’t happen by 2001
in no way
robs them of their power,
because they were never written as futuristic ‘predictions’
in the first place.
Sci-fi at its best is a literary genre
that is
set in an imaginary future
in order
to free people’s minds from the trammels of their present lived reality,
and to create the imaginative space
for fresh
reflection on issues
which are
of relevance to the real world of the here and now.
This was how Apocalyptic functioned in the first century:
it used
futuristic, out-of-this-world images and stories
to help those reading it
to gain a
new perspective on their lives.
It frequently used the literary device of a vision or dream
to provide
a context for the vivid images
which
depicted alternative ways of understanding the world.
So a wicked empire might become
a
fantastical many-headed beast or a corrupt prostitute,
while struggling churches might become
shining
stars or a faithful woman.
The word ‘apocalyptic’ simply means ‘revealed’, (hence
‘Revelation’)
and refers
to the fact that this kind of literature
is primarily about the ‘revelation’ of heavenly mysteries,
passing on
to its readers heaven’s perspective on the earthly situation.
As we saw in our reading for this morning,
the book
of Revelation begins with a vision of heaven,
as the
author, John, writes that he is caught up ‘in the Spirit’
and given a ‘revelation’ from God
about the way the world really is (1.1,10).
John’s revelation can be summed up fairly easily:
the
emperor is not all-powerful,
no matter how powerful he appears to be;
the empire
is not all-good,
no matter how effective its propaganda;
only God
is all-powerful and all-good,
and God is to be known through his son Jesus Christ,
who is drawing the world to himself
and will
accompany all those who make the journey
from enslavement under the empire to new life in Christ.
One can imagine John,
the
Christian pastor responsible for the seven churches of Asia Minor,
imprisoned on the prison island of Patmos,
praying
for those in his churches and meditating on his Jewish scriptures,
especially the books of Exodus, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel,
each of
which reflects on what it means to be faithful to God
when the pressure is on to compromise to the forces of empire.
As he brings his world before his scriptures
he has a
moment of divine ‘revelation’:
that the world is not as the world wants to be seen;
that the
empire is really satanic;
that the emperor is not divine;
that the
churches of Christ are not insignificant;
and that despite appearances to the contrary all is not lost.
He then picks up his pen and starts writing his book,
borrowing
language, imagery and theology
from the Jewish scriptures and beyond,
but giving
it all his own distinctive twist
to make it relevant for his first century context.
When we come to read Revelation today,
we may
find it helpful to do with John’s text
what he did with his own scriptures.
That is, to bring our own world to the world of the text,
submitting
our lives to its imaginative and transformatory effects,
learning to see the world the way John saw it,
and in so
doing gaining heaven’s perspective
on our own
earthly situations.
Well, we wouldn’t read Paul’s letters as if they were
written for us today;
instead,
if we are responsible readers,
we read them in their original context (of Corinth, or Philippi, or
wherever).
We might
then, if we want to, begin to look for those places
where the world of the original recipients
touches our
own world,
and through these points of correspondence
we may
allow the ancient text to speak to our contemporary situation.
If we take this same approach with Revelation,
we might
usefully ask ourselves where the ‘empire’ or ‘Babylon’
are to be found in our contemporary world,
and we
might ask where the propaganda of the ‘empire’
is most effective at seducing us into compromise,
and we
might ask where the suffering church
is struggling to bear faithful witness to their faith
in the face of seemingly overwhelming opposition.
In places like these, and many more,
the vision
of Revelation echoes down the centuries
with a
message as fresh and challenging as the day it was written.
The key questions that John addresses in this first chapter
of the Apocalypse
revolve
around issues of power and worship,
as he invites his audience to consider who is really sitting
on the throne.
This is neither an idle nor speculative question,
because
the one on the throne holds not just power,
but also
attracts worship from those who give their allegiance to the throne.
From the perspective of those living in the seven cities of
Asia Minor,
the answer
was clear:
the Emperor in Rome occupies the position of ultimate power and worship
Archaeologists tell us
that there
were sacred precincts in both Ephesus and Pergamum
dedicated
to the worship of the Emperor
However, John wants those in the seven churches of the seven
cities
to come to
realize that supreme power
actually resides with the one seated on the throne in heaven,
and that
he alone is worthy of worship (1.4; 3.2; 4.2–8).
Those in the seven congregations therefore find themselves
caught
between
two competing ideologies,
and are faced with the choice as to which power they will
recognize,
and before
which throne they will bow.
To help them in this choice, John wants them
to learn
to see the earth from heaven’s perspective,
and so he carefully structures the opening chapter
to draw
his audience rhetorically into his vision.
He begins with an explanation of the ‘revelation’
that he is
passing on to them through the text of the Apocalypse (1.1).
This ‘revelation’ is seen to begin with God himself,
the
supreme being who will shortly be seen enthroned in heaven.
It then passes downward through the heavenly realm
from God
to Jesus, then to an angel,
and finally it touches the earth
as the
angel gives the revelation to John
whose task
is to then pass it on to the seven congregations.
In this way, John clearly demonstrates
that the
origin of his visions is with none other than God in heaven.
John then describes the beginning of his own visionary
experience,
as he
moves from earth-bound Patmos into the heavenly realm,
receiving from the divine voice his commission
to write
down what he sees and send it to the seven churches (1.9–11).
This is then followed by his vision of the ‘one like a son
of man’,
in which
he sees and worships the ascended Jesus (1.12–20).
The dramatic nature of this opening vision,
coupled
with John’s worshipful response (1.17),
serves to draw his audience into the vision
as they
share his sense of awe and wonder at the sight of their glorified Lord.
The ‘son of man’ figure reiterates John’s commission to
write what he sees,
once again
bringing the narrative from heaven down to earth,
and preparing the way for the seven letters
to the
seven congregations that follow (1.19).
Those in John’s churches are invited to realize something
profound
about the
nature of the congregations of which they are a part.
Although, from an earthly perspective,
these
congregations may appear to be isolated,
earth-bound and feeble representations of the body of Christ,
from heaven’s perspective they form part of the heavenly
court,
and have a
role to play
in the
proclamation of judgement on the forces of evil.
The Church here in John’s vision is both radical and
subversive;
it is
threatening to authority
in its challenge of what John perceives to be
the idolatrous claims of empire.
John would have those in his congregations
worship
only the one who is truly worthy of adoration.
This call to disassociate from worshipping the gods of Rome,
and the
Emperor in particular,
meant that for John’s congregations,
as for
generations of followers of Jesus down the centuries since,
worship became a political act,
placing
them in opposition to the dominant authorities
of
state-embedded religion.
In this way, the opening chapter of Revelation
can be
seen as a carefully constructed rhetorical and pastoral composition,
that seeks to engage those living in the seven churches,
inviting
them to begin to re-imagine their world
and to
learn to see its dominant images differently.
It draws its audience
into the
visionary world that John is seeking to convey.
The pastoral intent of this
is then to
enable those in the churches
to see the
earth from heaven’s perspective,
and to start
acting accordingly.
And this, I think, is the challenge before us too.
Can we see where power in enthroned in our world,
where the
powers that be have taken to themselves
authority
that rightly only belongs to God?
And can we learn to see things differently,
to see the
earth from heaven’s perspective,
and to
start acting accordingly…
Where, I wonder will this take us?
Let’s find out over the course of this year,
as we return
to the text of John’s vision
to hear
the persistent challenge to see things anew,
and to
live differently in the light of this revelation.
