Sermon for All Saints Sunday
By the Rev. Dr. Calvon Jones
Assistant Minister
The Memorial Church of Harvard University
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, Nov. 5, 2023)
Memorial Church, I have dreams, hopes, and visions. Dreams of a day when bigotry is swallowed up in love. Hopes of a day when Sunday morning is no longer the most segregated hour. Visions of the people of God coming out of their denominational silos and dancing to the beat of justice and the melody of peace.
I have dreams, hopes, and visions. Dreams where we come down from our lofty pulpits and into the streets where the poor and the oppressed reside. Hopes of a church that removes judgment and offers healing, transformation, and change. A vision where the spirit of God moves upon us and shifts us out of our norms and status quos.
I have dreams, hopes and visions. However, hope, dreams and visions at times are daunting and difficult to find. How does one hope in a world that is filled with terror and pain? How does one dream when children and women and men are dying in Gaza and Israel? How does one envision a better world when we continue to grieve the senseless acts of violence in our nation and world? How does one have hope in the face of hatred, oppression, and bigotry? How does one dream in the face of injustice, violence, and despair? How does one envision a more just society when authorities continue to legislate evil and keep people poor? How does one dream when the nightmares of social dysfunction, discrimination, marginalization, and evil, haunt the fabric of our democracy?
Yet I still choose to dream. Yet God calls us to have courage, to have hope, to dream and envision of a better world. Hope, dreams and visions are not mere platitudes. They do not negate grief, pain, or suffering. Rather, hope and dreams are not ways to escape the hard work of justice, rather hope, dreams and visions are God's invitation to stand up to the structures and systems of injustice and offer an alternative reality of love. Hopes, dreams and visions beckon the souls of humanity to believe that pain and suffering will not have the final word. Hope, dreams and visions, though at times are difficult to grasp are the calming streams in the face of discord, disorder, dis-ease and danger. Hope, dreams and visions are the piercing lights that make their way through evil and darkness. Hope, dreams and visions are strange and difficult paradoxes in the face of suffering, yet it constrains us to dare to imagine a different world. Hope, dreams, and visions for a more just world and loving society are proclaimed throughout the cannon of scriptures.
In the Genesis account of creation, in the beginning, out of darkness, out of nothing, ex nihilo, God had hope and a dream and created a world with you and me in mind. Hope is seen when Moses prophesied to the people of God that today would no longer be enslaved and entrapped in an unjust political system in Egypt, Miriam danced to dance of hope in the face of oppression, enslavement, reminding the people of God that they will be delivered out of Egypt. Daniel prophesied hope in despair. Jeremiah proclaimed hope in the midst of unimaginable death and chaos. Deborah and Esther proclaimed hope in the face of opposition and challenge. Hope is proclaimed through Ezekiel who looks at a great multitude of oppressed bodies in the valley of dry bones and says, "Live dry bones." Hope, and dreams of a greater world are proclaimed throughout the cannon of scriptures.
Hope, dreams and visions are also at the heart of the gospel. Hope is felt on the lips of Jesus who cited the words of the prophet Isaiah. "The spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to do what? To preach good news to the poor, to release those who have been held captive and free those who have been incarcerated, to give recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Hope is made throughout the gospel. Hope is felt throughout the canon. Hope can be felt in the face of pain.
And I know some of you all don't want to talk about Revelation today. Our text today is from Revelation, which is actually one of my favorite books. A book that most people run away from because of the symbols, imagery, and icons. When people read Revelation, the trumpets, the seven lamps, the seals, the angels, these humongous beasts with multiple eyes and figures will scare you to say, "I'm never going to read Revelation again."
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Today, I asked you not to run away from Revelation, but embrace it with me and allow us to understand it a bit more deeply. See the images, the monsters, the weird symbols, are very intentional in Revelation. What John sees is meant to be seen in this way. He wants the reader to see it too. Rome is the monster. Rome is the monster. Empire has caused so much pain on John's family and friends and the church, and to those who have been committed, who have committed their lives to the church that John feels like, I have to describe Rome like a big monster because it has killed, oppressed, ostracized, dehumanized, and marginalized my people. John, who is considered to be banished to the island of Patmos, writes about this Rome, this empire to reveal and unveil the injustice of Rome.
But don't miss it. Revelation is not about crazy end times, even though there is as eschatological hope, and there is a theme of the apocalypse. Revelation is really about the sacrificial lamb of Jesus, having hope in the Christ who calls us to walk in love. This text is sandwiched between the sixth and seventh seal. As Jesus opens each seal, there is more pain. However, there is hope. In the midst of the trumpets, the monsters, the beasts, the images, the icons, the terror, John has a dream. John dares to dream in the midst of pain. The next time you read Revelation, read it with this lens that there is hope even in the face of empire.
John looks and sees a great multitude that one could not count from every nation, tribe, country, people, ethnicity and language, standing before the throne of God, all the angels surrounded them. And then one of the elders asked, "These in white robes, who are they, and where did they come from?" John answered, "Sir, you are the elder. Shouldn't you know?" And the elder said, "These are they who have come out of great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb." And Matt, in my homiletic imagination, I can hear the elder saying this, "These are they who did not keep silent about what's going on in Gaza and Israel. These are they who have not kept silent about the injustice in our nation. These are they who have crossed through violence and war. These are they who have beared witness to those who have suffered and been abused. These are they who took a stand, who took a risk to make the world a better place. These are they who followed after Christ."
The elder continues to dream along with John and offers hope and a vision and says, "Never again will they hunger. Never again will they thirst. For the lamb is at the center of the throne will be their shepherd. For Christ will lead them to springs of living water."
If I can just exegete this a little bit more in the words of the New Testament scholar, N.T. Wright, he talks about Revelation and he says, "Revelation is not necessarily talking about a heaven on the other side. It is talking about something that we do not have to wait until the end." See, evangelicals and literalists have taken this text to say, "Oh, it's getting ready to happen. Oh, it's happening now. Oh, it's getting ready to do this." But what's really taking pace in Revelation is that it had already begun. Christ had invited those who would be a part of the people of the way to participate in standing up against injustice. Heaven in Revelation is not way over yonder, but it's making heaven come down right here, heaven for the poor, heaven for the outcast, heaven for those who are marginalized, we are called to dream of a better place down here.
As I go to my seat, today in the Christian calendar, we celebrate All Saints' Day, a day where we remember the saints who have transitioned from this world to eternity. We remember those who were dear to our hearts. We remember those who committed their lives to love and dared to dream for a better world. We remember those who were examples, like John, imagine a better world, those who made a way for us so that we may also become saints. Saints who hope, dream and envision a better world.
I leave you with this story. The South African writer, Olive Schreiner tells the story about locusts. She observes locusts going to the river. The first locust goes to the river and is swept away by the current. Another comes and makes a track to the river's edge and is swept away and is heard no more. But eventually, insects come together and build upon each other and build a bridge to the other side. Olive Schreiner makes a statement, but what happened to those who came first and were swept away by the current and left on the cutting room floor of history? They made a track to the river's edge so that someone else would have the possibility to make it to the other side. They made a way for someone else.
So as I go to my seat, Memorial Church, keep dreaming. Like John, keep making a way for other people. Continue to cast visions of love, justice, peace, and equality. Continue to dream of a better day, even when you are sad, even when you're grieving, even when it appears that there is no hope. Continue to dare to become modern day saints and continue to do what those who have gone on before us did. Make a way for others to make it to the other side. Amen.