About “Heaven”
In the book of Genesis, when Jacob is on the run from his murderous brother Esau, he stops for the night in the wilderness and sleeps on a stone. You might remember what happens next. He dreams about a stairway to heaven. At the top of the stairway stands God, who promises Jacob he will be with him and bless the world through him and bring him back home one day. When Jacob wakes up, he anoints the stone on which he slept with oil and names the place, “Bethel,” which means “House of God.” He explains: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it! … What an awesome place this is! It is none other than the house of God, the very gateway to heaven!” (Gen 28:16-17).
Now, the point of the story is not that there is a distinct portal to heaven hidden somewhere in the Judean wilderness. Jacob’s experience does not reveal a magical site like the wardrobe in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia stories, where a person can transport from this world to another. The point, rather, is precisely what Jacob says first: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” In biblical narrative, heaven is not another world or place to which we might escape. “Heaven” is the way things really are, even when we’re not aware of it. “Heaven” is a way of talking about the deepest reality of this world. When Jacob makes a visit to heaven in his dream, he learns about the meaning of his life in this world.
I share this as a preface, because today we move ahead in Revelation to the next major section, which is where John of Patmos has a vision of God on a throne in heaven. But everything that John hears and sees in heaven has manifestly to do with what’s happening on earth. I suggest, then, as a rule of thumb that heaven is not meant to be seen as an actual other place but rather as the way things really are. In John’s vision in Revelation, he catches a glimpse of the way things really are on earth….
Hope and History Won’t Rhyme
1 Then I saw in the right hand of the one seated on the throne—God is the one seated on the throne—a scroll written on the inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals; 2 and I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it. 4 And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it.
One of the first animated films I remember seeing was The Sword in the Stone. You might recall the basic storyline, whether from that film or just from English folklore. There is an enchanted sword that is stuck in a stone, and the legend holds that whoever can pull the sword out will be the next king of England. Many strong men try to pull the sword out but cannot. Then one day a young Arthur comes along, not even knowing the significance of this particular sword, and casually pulls it out. The point is not that Arthur has some superhuman strength. Rather it is fate. He will grow into a mighty king one day. This destiny unlocks the sword from its place.
The opening section of today’s scripture describes a similar scenario. There’s a sealed scroll, and no one is able to open it. But there’s a difference between this scroll and the sword in the stone. Think about it. Pulling a sword from stone takes strength or might. Arthur draws the sword because his destiny is to become a strong and mighty king. But reading a scroll is a different task. It requires comprehension. Understanding. The inability of everyone to open the scroll is not meant to symbolize that everyone is weak, or that the scroll is bound together by some divine superglue. It symbolizes rather that no one could possibly read and understand what is written on this scroll.
When John of Patmos begins to weep bitterly, despairing that the scroll will ever be opened, his tears and anguish stand in for the tears and anguish of all Christ-followers who are living in the Roman Empire around the turn of the first century CE. They and John are weeping because their world does not make sense. Jesus announced the kingdom of God, and yet they still live in a world of persecution and oppression. Perhaps like Nico last week, they have experienced God’s love and liberation personally, but when they look upon the larger world they have trouble seeing how anything has changed. When they look upon the larger world, the way of Christ seems suddenly “weak” or “foolish.” It’s no coincidence that Paul talks about the gospel as a “mystery,” as something that doesn’t make immediate sense, as something that indeed seems “weak” and “foolish” to uncritical eyes. How is it that turning the other cheek and loving enemies is going to change things?
When the Irish band U2 wrote a song about the troubles in their own land, they gave poignant expression to the tears and anguish of John of Patmos and Christ-followers through the centuries. They titled the song “Peace on Earth,” and in it they sang: “Hear it every Christmastime / but hope and history won’t rhyme / so what’s it worth: / this ‘peace on earth’?
The Lion Roars
5 Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David…
I want to pause here in the middle of the verse because this language draws deeply from a rich tradition that would have immediately resonated with an audience familiar with the Jewish scriptures. Messianic prophecies in the Old Testament can be traced all the way back to Genesis, where Jacob’s final blessing on his twelve sons singles out Judah and anticipates his greatness and compares him to a lion. Later, the people of Israel will adopt the lion as their own image, as a mascot, so to speak. Solomon had images of lions carved into his throne (1 Kgs 10:19). Images of lions can be found adorning many ancient synagogues.
In fact, there is a fascinating Jewish text, 2 Esdras, that is written around the same time as Revelation and contains its own prophecy about a messiah who appears as a lion. In the vision of 2 Esdras, the messiah-lion confronts an eagle, which clearly represents the Roman empire. The lion acts as a sort of cosmic judge, holding Rome to account for its deeds. Here’s just a snippet of the lion’s judgment: “[Y]ou [Rome[ have held sway over the world with great terror and over all the earth with grievous oppression, and for so long you have lived on the earth with deceit…. [Y]ou have oppressed the meek and injured the peaceable; you…have laid low the walls of those who did you no harm…. Therefore you, eagle, will surely disappear…so that the whole earth, freed from your violence, may be refreshed and relieved and may hope for the judgment and mercy of him who made it” (2 Esdras 11:40-46). After this stinging judgment, the imperious lion—untouched by the eagle—destroys it.
We can’t know for certain whether John of Patmos or his audience knew about this text. But what does seem certain is the appeal of a mighty lion that will come to the rescue and avenge the oppressed. For John and other Christ-followers living at the time—as well as for us today, perhaps—there lingers a hope that maybe the next time the messiah comes, he will operate in a different manner. The first time, he made himself vulnerable in his love, choosing to absorb suffering rather than inflict it. But the next time, we perhaps hope, he will look more like a lion. He will make the evil to feel God’s wrath; he will make the wicked pay.
“Has Conquered”
(5) [See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David] has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”
If John’s hopes were raised with the promise of a messiah lion, a savior who could make sense of the mess of the world by putting the bad guys in their place, by giving them a good old fashioned licking…then the words that immediately follow may have him scratching his head. Sure, there’s the language of “conquering,” which is undoubtedly what John and his contemporaries would have loved to hear—namely, the Roman empire “conquered,” subdued, defeated. But the problem is grammatical. “Has conquered.” In other words, past tense. It’s already happened.
Which brings John and all of us back to our former tears and anguish. Which brings us all back to a world that just doesn’t make sense. If God’s messiah has already conquered, then…why do we still have war? Crime? Hunger? Poverty? If God’s messiah really has already conquered the world, then maybe God could do the courtesy of telling the bad guys that they’ve been defeated and should cease their wickedness at once.
The Lion Is…a Slaughtered Lamb
6 Then I saw between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth.
We’ve been moving really slowly through the scripture—almost a half a verse at a time. I invite you to imagine John’s experience in slow motion. First he hears about a messiah-lion arriving on the scene. His heart leaps with hope, and he begins to turn his head to look for the lion. Then he hears that the lion has already “conquered,” which plants a seed of confusion and doubt in his heart. And now, finally, he sees the Lion of Judah. Except…it’s not a lion. It’s a slaughtered lamb. Perhaps his heart falls in disappointment. Any lingering hope that the messiah Jesus will come back with a vengeance is dashed. Instead, what John sees and learns is that the way of Jesus does not change.
Just as importantly, John sees and learns that what looks like defeat is in fact victory.
In my interpretation, this is ultimately the “content” of the scroll. That is, “love wins.” This story—this way of seeing the world—simply doesn’t compute with us who desire a strong lion. No wonder we wouldn’t be able to read the scroll. It wouldn’t make sense to us. For us, hope and history don’t rhyme. But for Jesus, the slaughtered lamb, they do.
A Different Interpretation of History:
Love Wins
Listen to the song that gets sung by the heavenly faithful as the slaughtered lamb, Jesus, takes the scroll.
7 He went and took the scroll from the right hand of the one who was seated on the throne. 8 When he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell before the Lamb, each holding a harp and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. 9 They sing a new song:
“You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
for you were slaughtered and by your blood you ransomed for God
saints from every tribe and language and people and nation;
10 you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God,
and they will reign on earth.”
Like the Passover lamb that liberated and empowered the Hebrew slaves to become God’s people (cf. Ex 19:5-6), Jesus as the slaughtered lamb of God liberates followers of Christ to become part of God’s kingdom. Which is to say, he gives us eyes to see the world differently. He gives us a different interpretation of history, the right and true interpretation of history. “Love wins.”
Remember what we observed about “heaven” earlier? Namely, that it is not necessarily a physical place but the way things really are. Well, here John sees the way things really are. The slaughtered lamb of God is the only one who is able to read and comprehend history, because only the slaughtered lamb has fully trusted in and experienced the love of God, which is stronger than death. For Christ, it all makes sense, because he sees that love endures beyond death.
The Mothers of East Los Angeles
If you still have doubts about this interpretation of history—that love wins, not power and strength—you’re not alone. I have doubts too. Almost every day, I experience a reflexive thought or feeling that glories in vengeance, in payback, in retribution, in people getting what’s coming to them. That instinct for the lion is alive and well in me. But…my faith tugs me in the direction of the slaughtered lamb.
To close, I’d like to share a sketch of people who follow the slaughtered lamb, people who live in the kingdom of God right here, right now. In the early-to-mid 1990s, gang violence in east Los Angeles spiked considerably. In the poorest parish of Los Angeles, which also features the largest public housing complex west of the Mississippi, nearly every family had lost a child or relative to gang violence. The outside sentiment was that this problem required a real crackdown: more law enforcement, tougher police, harsher consequences. You could even consider this kind of response, “tough love.” A gesture of care toward the community through the controlled use of force.
But inside the community, many of the mothers had been participating weekly in gospel study groups where they asked questions like: “What’s going on around us? What does the gospel say about these problems? What would Jesus do in this situation?” Their answers to these questions led them in a very different direction. Away from the militant lion and closer to the slaughtered lamb. They formed a committee to respond specifically to the violence that plagued their neighborhood. And the way it worked was, whenever someone heard gunshots fired or learned of an intensifying conflict or caught wind of a planned shooting, they would alert the rest of the group, and as many as could make it to the flashpoint would march between rival gangs and armed men, pleading with them to stop killing each other. (I wonder if this isn’t what real “tough love” looks like. Doesn’t it take a whole lot more toughness and strength to love others at risk to one’s own safety than it does to act violently…?) In addition to these direct interventions, the mothers met every weekend for what came to be known as “Love Walks,” where they would walk the streets of their neighborhood and tell gang members with words and with actions—such as home-cooked food and songs—“You are all our sons. We love you. We don’t want you to kill each other.” Their Christlike response planted seeds for some remarkable transformation in the neighborhood—not only a deescalation of violence, but also an increase in communication and attention to real needs, such as employment opportunities.
John heard the heavenly faithful sing, “You have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth” (Rev 5:10). Some people think these words refer to some distant future that will be instituted by a lion-like messiah. I believe they refer to people who follow the slaughtered Lamb right now, people who live in his kingdom at this very moment—people like the courageous mothers of east Los Angeles.
Prayer
Dear Christ Jesus,
Like John of Patmos
We look upon our world
With bafflement and despair,
Uncertain that your vulnerable love
Is the way …
Grant us eyes to see you as John did,
Not as lion but as lamb,
That we might respond to the world
With your vulnerable, enduring, conquering love.
Amen.
