I
think that most of you know
that
half of my seminary training was in Rome.
Which
means that I was studying theology in Italian—
a
language I’d never studied before.
When
I went to my first day of classes at the university,
I
knew about enough of the Italian language to order a pizza—
but
certainly not enough to discuss the finer points of the Gospel.
I
remember sitting in the large lecture hall that first semester
when
one of our professors
pulled
out a white handkerchief from his pocket, shook it open,
and
laid it over the watch on his wrist.
He
then removed the handkerchief.
He
must have done this six or seven times in a row,
all
the while continuing with his lecture.
I
was trying to keep up…but not really succeeding.
All
I knew is that what he was doing
sure
looked like a magic trick—and a pretty awful one,
because
every time he lifted his hanky,
his
watch was still there!
I
later came to realize that what he was doing
was
giving us a rather concrete lesson in revelation.
“Revelation”
is one of those Church words
that
gets thrown around rather freely,
but
which many folks never stop to question:
“What
does it really mean?”
To
re-veal something literally means to remove
the veil—
to
uncover something
or
(like Toto does in The Wizard of Oz) to
pull back the curtain.
A
revelation gives us a peek behind the scenes,
a
glimpse of what’s really going on.
For
us Christians, revelation is the word we use
for
everything that God has told us about himself
(and,
for that matter, about ourselves, too.)
Revelation
is the way God lets us in on his plans.
It’s
something God has done gradually through ages past—
and
did perfectly when he sent us
his
Only Begotten Son, the Word made flesh.
What is revealed isn’t stuff we can figure out by ourselves.
There’s
no test, no experiment, by which you figure out God.
Revelation is a matter of questions we couldn't answer on our own.
If
you open up your Bible,
you
see that “Revelation” is also the name of a particular book—
the
very last one of the bunch.
In
our second readings,
we’ve
been hearing passages from Revelation
all
through this Easter season.
Many
people stay away from the Book of Revelation.
They
think it’s difficult to understand;
some
even find it scary.
There’s
a common misconception that it’s nothing other
than
a graphic description of the end of the world.
The
fact of the matter is that Revelation is
a revelation.
If
we’re patient with it, if we take it on its own terms,
we
can discover that this book is meant
to
remove the veil, to pull back the curtain, to uncover God’s plan,
to
give us a glimpse of what’s really going on.
Consider
what we’ve already seen
by
reading just a few small pieces of the Book of Revelation
during
the Easter season so far:
there’s
a man in a long white robe wearing a golden sash;
he’s
standing near a throne and an altar,
around
which are burning candles;
every
so often, someone opens up a large scroll (or a book)
from
which to read;
surrounding
them are crowds of people—wearing white robes, too—
who
are worshipping and singing things
like
“Amen” and “Alleluia” and “Holy, holy, holy,”
repeatedly
bowing down and falling to their knees.
And
just in case it’s not already obvious enough,
John
tells us that he had this vision on the Lord’s Day—on Sunday.
What
does that all sound like? Mass, of
course!
And
that’s no accident!
Revelation
is a revelation about what’s actually going on
when
we come together to celebrate the Eucharist.
It
tells us that this isn’t simply a get together
of
like-minded people who take comfort in ritual.
No—this
is where heaven meets earth, where
God meets man.
What
we feel is holy water sprinkled on our heads;
in
truth, we are washed clean of sin
in
the precious Blood of the Lamb of God.
What
we see and smell is the smoke of incense;
in
fact, it’s our prayers and praises that are rising on high.
What
we taste is but a small scrap of bread;
in
reality, we’re receiving the Body and Blood,
Soul
and Divinity of the Lord Jesus—
once
slain, but now living forever.
When we
sing, it's not only with the choir upstairs,
but
with countless choirs of angels!
What
our senses can grasp
is
engaging, moving, and beautiful on its own—
but
there’s so much more going on here than meets the eye,
and
it all points beyond itself to what’s really real.
What
the Book of Revelation does for the Mass
it
also does for the whole of the Christian life.
It
was written to a people
facing
deadly persecution for their faith in Jesus—
like
Paul and Barnabas, undergoing many hardships
in
order to enter the kingdom of God.
They
needed encouragement; they needed hope.
And
so Revelation tells them and tell us
that
God has made his dwelling with the human race:
he
lives—and lives among us!
This
world we see—the old order,
marked
by pain and tears and death and mourning—
is
passing away.
God
is making all things new:
a
new heavens, a new earth, a new Jerusalem.
That’s
not just a distant future to dream about;
it’s
the present reality, though hidden from our sight.
The
Book of Revelation reminds us
to
keep our eyes and our minds and our hearts open
to
all the many ways—big and small—
in
which God is constantly drawing back the curtain,
removing
the veil, and giving us a glimpse of his presence
and of his plan for our salvation.
Revelation
is not only God’s gift to us;
it’s
also our solemn duty.
Just
hours before he died on the Cross,
while
still at the Last Supper table,
Jesus
says,
“This
is how all will know that you are my disciples—
this
is the way you can help others to recognize
who
I really am, why I came and lived and died and rose:
by
the way you love one another.
As
I have loved you, so you must also love one another.”
No,
revelation isn’t magic.
It’s
actually something far, far more amazing!
Watch
for the ways God is lifting the veil,
and then hold back the curtain so that others can see, too.
