Date
Sunday, November 17, 2024
Sermon Audio
Full Service Audio

Inviting Worship
By Rev. Dr. Jason Byassee
Sunday, November 17, 2024
Reading: Revelation 4

We are in a series on the five pillars that hold up our church. I’ve been surprised that the passages that best fit three of our pillars are from the book of Revelation. The last book of the Bible, and for much of church history the last book falls out. John Calvin, the great Swiss Reformer of the 16th century, comments on every book of the Bible. Revelation? Not a peep. He ignores it. He never says why. One of you, seeing that I was preaching Revelation soon, said “I hate Revelation. No more Revelation, please.”

I said, uh, well, this is like good Revelation.

She said I know, I know, but sheesh.

Others say Revelation is your favourite book. It’s not mine, can’t you tell? Not because I don’t understand it, but because I think I do. And it’s so beautiful I’m haunted by it: I’m not sure I can handle a God this good.

Some terms. The word “revelation” means unveiling. A glimpse into how things are. The Greek word is “apocalypsis.” It doesn’t mean the end of the world. It means a glimpse into the world God is bringing, with every tear wiped from every eye. That’s good news, isn’t it? Confusingly, another use of the same word “revelation” is this: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are all faiths based on revelation, lower-case R. We don’t make this stuff up. God gives it to us as a gift. Sometimes you hear people say, “everyone is spiritual deep down.” I sort of agree. But the Abrahamic faiths are completely and 100 percent united on this: we trust our faith because God gives it to us, not because we feel it.

Often you’ll hear the book called “Revelations,” plural. I have to contain myself, please, no, there is only one Revelation. Jesus Christ reigns and he is making all things new. People only started calling it Revelations in North America when they started to think you could divine the future from it. That’s not a biblical thing to do—our ancestors would have called it sorcery. We don’t read the Bible like a crystal ball or tea leaves. We read it for Jesus and all his questionable friends.

Scholars tell us apocalyptic literature is common to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, all three. It tells the way things really are, despite appearances, is way more odd than anybody thought. This genre of literature includes visions, animals, creatures that don’t exist (yet). Angels and saints and battles with demons, fire and sulphur and dragons. If you like the music in Stephen Boda’s concert later today, you’ll love Revelation: Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter. The Bible has better stories than Hollywood and it’s not close. That’s why I don’t want to ignore this book. We’re worried about how to get people back to church and meanwhile we’re ignoring the most interesting book we have?

I’ve gotten to learn more indigenous stories recently. Dean Copecoge, who read Tecumseh’s prayer last week on Remembrance, has told me stories of creator in Anishnaabe culture. They’re so beautiful they make my stomach churn, like the first time you’re in love and you don’t know what it is. Creator wants to destroy the earth because we human beings are so evil we make our creator sick. But eagle flies up and calls four times to the four winds. And says, Creator, there are some creatures who are good. And every day at dusk I’m going to come and remind you, so you don’t destroy the good with the bad. Sound familiar? Like Abraham and Moses advocating for Israel, no, don’t kill humanity God. Okay, God says, fine. Like Jesus refusing to let any die. Like here in Revelation. Did you hear the eagle mentioned? I can’t live without these stories. Which stories? In the Bible? Or aboriginal ones? Yes. Both. Never one or the other. Never.

We had some inviting worship last week. Well, I mean, we do every week. We hope Christ will transfigure us and everyone into new creatures. We take up an offering. Not everyone’s favourite moment in the service, I grant. But there were unique offerings last week. Mary Lou Taylor brought her father’s World War I uniform for the kids to see and touch upstairs. Another of you held my hand and said, “my father fought at Vimy.” Staggering offerings. This is inviting worship: an offering to God and the rest of us, some in the plate, some who have nothing else but words, one a prayer and words in Ojibwe. Our Christmas pageant is inviting worship. Some of us even have speaking parts. They put us in funny outfits, like these, to keep an eye on us. Worship done right invites in supposed enemies and strangers who become friends who become family.

You have heard parts of Revelation 4 before if you’ve ever been in a church. Or in any Abrahamic house of prayer. Or with any indigenous people here in Canada or elsewhere, in Africa, New Zealand, Australia, Greenland, northern Scandinavia, South America, I could go on. Wild and spectacular images. Even saying the words ...as one preacher says the words are like “jewels in my mouth.” Jasper. What’s that? No idea. Doesn’t matter. Carnelian. What’s that? Shh! We’re rolling. 24 thrones with 24 elders. I remember when I first ever translated this from Greek, I saw 24 presbyteroi. Twenty-four Presbyterians? Anybody heard of the Presbyterians? It just means elders make decisions together instead of one bishop. Every culture honours its elders. Except ours. Lightning. Rumbling thunder. Seven torches. Seven spirits. A sea of glass. Crystal. What does it mean? No idea. This is beyond meaning somehow.

The more I think about it the more I realize we should spend more time in the stranger parts of our Bible, the ones we naturally recoil from like John Calvin. We’ll find that it puts us in good company with native peoples all over creator’s earth. With our Abrahamic sisters and brothers. With our very selves. Kinda scary right? So is everything else that matters.

The book of Revelation cites the Old Testament more than any other book in the New. But usually if you’re not aware of this you don’t notice them. The 24 elders, the four living creatures with eyes all over—the lion, ox, man, and eagle—the six wings. All of that is from prophetic books like Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel. We call it the Old Testament because it’s old faithful. Reliable. Trustworthy and true. Jews also have apocalyptic literature, they just see what North American Christians do with it and say uh, don’t tell anyone, especially not the Christians, we have even weirder books. Muslims, our other siblings in Abraham’s faith, also have apocalyptic literature, because they trust that God has a future better than anyone has ever imagined. Arab Christians also call God “Allah,” it just means God in that beautiful language.

I still hear from people inside and outside this church about our Christmas pageant: You had live camels! Yeah, they’re way better than dead camels. No, I mean you had donkeys and sheep, real sheep! That zoo closed apparently. I’m not clear it was ever actually legal, let alone a good idea. Stories of animals doing animal things and us politely ignoring them until we were all in giggles. The more you love animals the more you love the book of Revelation and the whole Bible really. Here animals are not only food or pets. They are signs. Mysteries.

When I was in college, I spent a semester in Spain and a friend forced me to go with him to Morocco. I’m so glad he did. I remember standing in a mosque in Casablanca and seeing a glass floor and what looked like an ocean underneath. So beautiful. Tears. And I thought, I bet Muslims have something like the book of Revelation too. They do. In fact, if you build a mosque correctly it has living water underneath it. Rabbi Yael from Holy Blossom Temple is in Morocco right now on pilgrimage. She wrote me “on the road to Rabat, where Jews and Muslims have lived as beloved neighbours for over 2500 years.” Don’t think it’s possible? It’s happening right now.

I regret to inform you there is not only no Rick’s Diner in Casablanca. There never has been. That might be the best movie ever made but it’s not real. Or is it? Revelation says anything good, true, or beautiful is more real than we are. So there is a Rick’s Diner. It’s just not in Casablanca. It’s in God’s presence. Don’t you want a reservation? We’ll sing La Marseillaise. Only the Nazis won’t enjoy it.

This leads to our time of testimony. Testimony is a Christian act in which a believer tells someone else, “Here’s who Jesus is for me.” And both the speaker and the hearer are changed. Testimony means “witness,” it’s a legal term. And Dany Assaf is a renowned lawyer, but that’s not why he’s here today. He is author of a beautiful Canadian story of his family immigrating from Lebanon to trade with gold rushers in northern Alberta in the 1800s, built the actual little mosque on the prairie, and did so with support from Christians and Jews. Morocco is not the only place where Christians, Muslims, and Jews have made our life together in peace. I learned from that book that we have been told to fear Muslims. But more acts of terror in Canada are perpetrated by white Christian nationalists than by Ishmael’s children. Why didn’t I know that?

So, Dany Assaf is here to give testimony but not as a lawyer, which he is, and not as a Christian, which he is not. He is a son of Abraham like you and me, like our beloved Jewish neighbours. But via Abraham’s son Ishmael, while we are via Abraham’s son Isaac. And if Toronto is ever going to again be the city we were once so proud of, we are going to need every single child of Abraham to reteach us all how to love our neighbour.

We are proud of our work with the Jewish community in this church. Our Jewish elder siblings often tell me we are the only church that has not abandoned them. There are others. Our lay leader who has quietly guided these efforts behind the scenes always says, ‘we are talking about Toronto, not anyplace else.’ We could debate non-Canadian politics till Jesus comes back and we would likely have... differing opinions about that. But our reason for existing at 230 St Clair Avenue in Forest Hill right now, is for the healing of the nations. Starting with Toronto the good.

Dany would you meet me up here for our little talk show?

                And while you come up a final word in my sermon.

                Holy, holy, holy,
                the Lord God the Almighty,
                who was and is and is to come.

Perhaps the most familiar words in any service because we say them every time we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. With all the angels and saints. The crystal sea below us. The Lamb in front of us. And every single molecule God ever made, made new. All our violence and racism undone. And through wiped away tears, every eye will see just how good God is and will all say, “I can’t believe it.” Believe it? We’ve seen it. Amen.