Each Sunday in the season of Easter this year, we encounter a new vision from the book of Revelation. It gives us an opportunity to explore the themes of the book set within the liturgical context of the resurrection of Christ, and the promise of new life. As we proclaim these readings from Revelation, we do so from a counter-cultural point of hopefulness rather than of fear or pessimism.

While the word “apocalypse” is generally understood as describing a cataclysmic ending of things or all things, the Church retains the original meaning of that word. The Ἀποκάλυψις is actually John’s vision of Jesus, the Lamb that was slain, being revealed to the world as its victorious sovereign and true savior over and above the rulers of the world at the time.

And in this revelation, today we see a new vision that competes with most of our expectations of what eternal life will be like. Rather than some of the people of the world (“some,” because in the traditional understandings of eternal life, not everyone is included) going up to heaven, John tells us about heaven coming down to earth as a holy city, a new Jerusalem, which is the home of God and God’s people. Through its ever-open doors, the rulers and the peoples of all nations will be drawn in by the light, who is Christ the triumphant Lamb.

John’s unveiling is a reversal — not only of the paradise lost from Genesis 3 now being restored — but a reversal in our simplistic understanding of cosmic directionality. We still say with people across time and cultures: When we die, we go up to heaven to be with God. But John says: God is coming down to be with and to live with us.

If we take that image seriously, if not literally, what might it mean for how we live on this earth? Knowing that it is not just the planet on which we happen to live until we die and get to go heaven and really live — but that this is our common home now, and that we will continue to live here with one another: with the people and with all the creatures, and with the Creator forever – how will we live now?

When we go somewhere on vacation and we are staying in a hotel and I see the pictures on the wall are a little crooked, there’s a stain on the carpet, or the faucet’s dripping in the bathroom, I notice those kind of things, but I don’t worry about them, and I certainly don’t take it upon myself to fix them. I’m only going to be there for a night or two, and it, after all, is someone else’s job to deal with that.

But if there was a stain on my carpet at home, I’d get the rug doctor out; my wife would make sure of it. A picture, even slightly askew, will quickly be leveled. And a dripping faucet will be addressed, if not by me, then by a well-paid plumber. I live there, after all, as does my family. This is where our friends come as honored guests. I want it to be clean and comfortable and pleasant. I’m responsible for it. I’m proud of it.

If this earth is my “forever home” that I’m going to share with all the peoples of the nations and all the creatures and with God, I don’t think I can ignore the problems, and I shouldn’t assume someone else is going to take care of them, or that they are just going to go away. I may not know exactly what to do (just like with plumbing), but I know there are others who do, and I should call on them and heed their expertise.

In order to realize John’s vision of the new and heavenly Jerusalem coming down to earth, we will need to rely on the wisdom of scientists and the passion of environmentalists, more so than on the promises of politicians, and even the preaching of preachers. We will need more people who are willing to have their personal visions and their traditional expectations challenged, and who can embrace change and new ideas. Our churches need to correct an over-simplified idea of eternal life as an individualistic pursuit of personal reward and eternal escapism, and rather focus on the abundant life that Jesus proclaimed that is realized in community through mutual care, humble service, and life-giving sacrifice. 

A few Sundays ago, one of the confirmation students was with me in the sacristy before worship, where she noticed a framed picture that includes these words: “Be the Church. Protect the environment. Care for the poor. Forgive often. Reject racism. Fight for the powerless. Share earthly and spiritual resources. Embrace diversity. Love God. Enjoy this life.” As we were waiting to enter the sanctuary, she read those words aloud and afterwards said: “I can get behind that.”

The next day, I moved that picture from the sacristy to the narthex where maybe more people will read it and get behind it, too.

I wish I knew who created that picture so that they might receive credit for this apocalypse — this unveiling of what church is, or can be, for that teenage confirmation student, and for us all. There is no language about personal piety, denominational or national loyalties, or striving for eternal salvation. The vision is of a community of people called the church that loves God and enjoys this life by looking after the world and the people in it, like Jesus did. That, like John’s, is a vision we can get behind.