It seems almost daily we are reminded in many ways that we live in transitional and troubled times. Some define our reality as a glass of water half full, others as a glass half empty, but it may not be particularly helpful to spend too much effort in choosing sides and getting us mired down in a swap of petty name calling. People of faith are able to draw on the great Biblical themes, of death and resurrection, of exile and return, of being scattered and gathered, of judgment and forgiveness, of searching and surprise, of being called together and being sent out. These are the great themes that fuel the imagination and take us and civilization a lot farther down the road of our journeys than what is ever thought possible.
One of the great gifts of the Holy Spirit is not necessarily speaking in tongues, even though that is the most sensational and controversial; rather it is the often underappreciated bestowal of a recharged religious imagination, stimulating religious poetry, song, drama, dance, and all sorts of imagery and profound symbols in the visual arts.
Two of our readings today are good examples of how the Holy Spirit helped get people of faith beyond seemingly hopeless situations. As the early church began to welcome people of non-Jewish backgrounds into their fellowship, a great conundrum was brewing. How do you unify people with completely different and opposing dietary habits, especially since the prime liturgical ceremony of the church centered around a meal? Some biblical scholars contend that the controversy that led to the stoning of Stephen, the church’s first martyr, was likely to have been about the proper observance of dietary regulations. Fortunately, before there was a real schism between Christians of Jewish background and those of gentile background, Peter had a dream of a great carpet coming down from heaven, and upon this great carpet were all sorts of animal including reptiles and birds of prey. To make sure the whole picture was thoroughly impressed in Peter’s mind, this carpet was raised and lowered three times and a voice authoritatively proclaimed, “Kill and eat! It’s all good!” Peter remembered that it wasn’t what went into a person that defied one, but what came out of one. Now I would not want a mural of Peter’s dream above the buffet in my dining room. I’m an unabashed meat eater, but reptiles and birds of prey are going a little too far. Nonetheless, it was through such dreams that stretched imaginations and through such strong metaphors that people of wrestled with, that people’s minds were changed and Christianity was able to transcend specific cultures, as well as respecting local customs. Public restaurants owe a lot to St. Peter.
A few decades after the controversy over food, the church found itself identified as an enemy of the Roman State. Directly taking on the power of Rome appeared to be a fruitless and utterly futile task. The book of Revelation was written to keep Christian spiritual imagination alive. Unlike fantasy that has no grounding in reality and seeks merely escape, spiritual imagination knows reality, but yearns for the “what if” of existence. Society in the city of God will love God and care for each other as God intended. There will be no need of a religious institution to teach God’s love; everyone will know it. Worship will unite us, not divide us. Revelation draws us to ponder how that would look, and what might be our place in witnessing and promoting what God will bring to full fruition. Revelation isn’t a treatise against organized religion even though it says there is no temple in the New Jerusalem. It isn’t trying to answer those who wish to define and also want to know who are saved and those who are not, even though it mentions the Lamb’s book of life. It isn’t a prediction of the moon and sun colliding and exploding in a final big bang theory, even though it says the moon and sun are no more. Revelation is trying to help us to move beyond where we are now, to offer a vision of a universe of what ifs and new possibilities, and combining those with our faith. Imagination and faith are what propel us from the false choices and the unsolvable paradoxes, from the dead ends and the prison camps of humanity’s making, and on to a new synthesis, a miraculous birth, an astounding discovery or a profound reinterpretation.
Soon Ascension Day will mark for us the conclusion of the Easter season and mark the change in the way Jesus’ presence comes among us. Together with Pentecost, this is a closing of one chapter of the church’s life and the beginning of another. It is appropriate that these festivals are around graduation time, for Ascension and Pentecost become the graduation ceremonies for the church. We are given the symbol of tongues of fire, representing the Holy Spirit abiding among us and in turn setting our sprits a blaze as it did for prophets, saints, and martyrs in ages past.
For too long, our society has believed that our technology will save us from our mistakes. Now society is beginning to have serious doubts. However, angry escapism into fantasy, while tempting, is inevitably fatal. Our society desperately needs to be offered the spark of God’s hope in us so that we can dream and soar rather than sulk or despair. It needs storytellers of faith. It needs us to ask “what if” questions filled with vision and combine them with the experience of our struggle as members of the people of God today.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
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