For all the saints
Commentary
Object:
All Saints Day does not boast the repertoire of music that some other seasons and holidays have. No one I know goes caroling around the neighborhood, for example, on this day. But William How's sweeping lyrics set to Ralph Vaughan Williams' majestic music might leave the other seasons envying this occasion.
How's portrait is triumphant, but not simplistic. He is not naïve about the saints' experience on earth. He owns the "darkness drear," the struggle, and the strife. He knows the warfare is long. Yet still, he sees through and beyond all of these to something greater.
How's hymn is a series of paradoxes, juxtaposing the present conflict with the future glory. It is the assurance of future glory that prevails in the end. All of the saints' troubles of this life and world are validated, vindicated, and rewarded.
"For All the Saints" is almost 150 years old, but it is by no means outdated. Perhaps when the people in our pews feel that all battles are won and all struggles are over, they will think the message irrelevant. Until then, however, How's faithful perspective remains precious and important.
Unless we are assured of the trumping, future reality, we may be overwhelmed by the circumstances of the present. How's paradoxes, therefore, are prized reminders of the truth. And we see those same paradoxes -- and reminders -- at work in our three lections for this week.
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18
Based on my thirty years of local church ministry, I have concluded that most church folks stopped learning the Bible when they were about thirteen years old. Consequently, they demonstrate a vague familiarity with the kinds of stories and lessons we customarily teach to children, but they don't seem to have gone much further. Accordingly, a passage like this one from Daniel is likely to be completely new material. Most of them know Daniel from the story from the lions' den. They may also recall the story about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, though they may never have realized that it was from Daniel's book.
Before reading this passage of scripture aloud, we might try a certain kind of experiment. We could ask folks to indicate whether or not they like the book of Revelation. My personal hunch is that people who like Revelation will find themselves attracted to this selection from Daniel. Conversely, people who are uncomfortable with Revelation will probably also recoil at this passage.
Of course, the real meat of Daniel's vision is assumed but not included in our assigned Old Testament text for this week, and it is the details of that sort of vision that are really a matter of taste. Some folks, as I suggested above, are very attracted to this kind of material in the Bible. Others frankly wish it weren't there. But both types of people can find a friend in Daniel. For the former group, of course, Daniel is the one who saw and recorded the vision. For the latter group, meanwhile, it seems that he too was troubled by it.
Like most of us, Daniel responds to the strange vision with an eagerness to have it interpreted. Just what does all this mean? What does it portend? And what does it have to do with me? As it happens, while the vision itself is full of detail, the interpretation is rather simple and straightforward: the four beasts represent four kingdoms, but there is another one who comes after.
The reference to four successive kingdoms is prominent elsewhere in Daniel as well, and our people would likely benefit from understanding the larger context. That context is found especially in the dream had by Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 2. In Daniel's interpretation of the king's dream four kingdoms are also represented, with a special work of God coming during the time of the fourth kingdom. This vision from Daniel 7 seems to follow the same contours as Nebuchadnezzar's dream. We might profitably employ one, therefore, to understand the other.
In Daniel's interpretation of that dream, you recall, the first kingdom is specifically identified as Nebuchadnezzar's own empire, which is presented as the historical context for the early portions of the book. The subsequent kingdom, therefore, would be the Media-Persian empire that succeeds the Babylonian empire. And then, of course, we remember from world history that Alexander the Great eventually defeated and replaced the Persians in that region. Finally, the next major player was the Roman empire.
Taken altogether, then, we have the prospect of God establishing his eternal kingdom beginning in the days of the Roman empire. Against that backdrop, then, the timing and content of John the Baptist's ministry takes on new significance. For in the days of the Roman emperor Tiberius, John appears on the scene declaring that the kingdom of God is at hand.
We read this episode from Daniel 7 in the same spirit, and we see the same fundamental truths. To the naked eye, the kingdoms of this world seem large and powerful -- even menacing and distressing. Yet there is something bigger and better yet to come. The reign of God is on the horizon, for he is the ultimate sovereign. All the "great beasts" of this world ultimately come and go. But the kingdom of God and of his saints will be "forever and ever."
Ephesians 1:11-23
Here is a classic Pauline passage. It is filled with truth and insight, yet it defies tidy organization. There is in Paul a combination of profundity and enthusiasm. The former makes his writing thick with meaning, while the latter often makes it loquacious and free-flowing. So in these early verses from his letter to the Ephesians, we find that he says so much -- too much to do justice to in a single reasonable-length sermon.
Our options, then, are to emphasize a single point or truth from this potpourri or to try somehow to capture the whole. I think the latter is more difficult; yet when I started with the former, it carried me to the latter. So I would offer my people this observation coming out of a text that is both broad and deep: there is no extracting the attributes of God from the blessings of God's people.
What do I mean?
I began by seeking to mine this text for its organization and its elements. As I did, I was struck by how much Paul declares in this passage about God. More specifically, he writes in a profoundly Trinitarian way. He is not generic and careless in speaking about God, as we often are. Rather, he is very specific in the things that he affirms about the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. And so at some level the passage before us invites a sermon that explores and extols the persons of the Trinity.
Here is a worthwhile endeavor for the preacher wrestling with this text. Indeed, it would be a fruitful exercise for our congregations too in settings conducive to pen-and-paper work with the Bible open before them. Divide a sheet of paper into three columns. Make "the Father" the label over the first column, "the Son" the label for the second, and "the Holy Spirit" the label for the third. Then as you read through the passage, jot down in the appropriate column what Paul says about each. The rich yield from such an exercise will illustrate how much Paul has packed into these few verses, and how much there is for us to preach and teach here.
When I tried to develop a sermon along those lines, however, I was frustrated and delighted, for as I sought to prepare a message about the Trinity, I discovered the gospel truth that I could not disentangle Paul's exclamations about God from his affirmations about us. That's not to say that we are being praised along with God, or that God's attributes and ours are confused by Paul. Not at all. Rather, Paul's reflections on the glory, grace, goodness, and providence of God are all inextricably tied to what God has done for us. It is truly a testimony to God's character that to speak of his attributes leads so naturally to a discussion of our salvation. This is not an anthropocentric theology; rather, it is the natural byproduct of God's grace.
The gospel of John is not on our radar this week, but a word that Jesus speaks there illuminates the truth found here. In that gospel's extended Last Supper scene Jesus prays for his disciples, saying along the way: "The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one" (John 17:22-23a). The prayer suggests the paradigm, you see: a God who invites us in, a Trinity that includes us. And this, in my reading, is the overarching, beautiful truth that emerges from our Ephesians passage, tying all of its other wonders together.
Luke 6:20-31
For some reason, which I confess I do not know, Matthew's Sermon on the Mount has worked its way into the consciousness of American Christianity more than Luke's Sermon on the Plain. Though there is much overlap in the material, the one collection of teachings has become far more familiar and cherished than the other. Consequently, when our people begin to hear this week's gospel lection they will think at first that they recognize the material; after a moment, however, they will wonder why it sounds a bit different.
This passage from Luke is a bit different from the more familiar Beatitudes of Matthew 5. Luke's version, for example, famously puts a greater emphasis on the physical, while Matthew's could be said to be somewhat more spiritual. Also, Matthew's Beatitudes begin in the third person, eventually moving to second-person references near the end, while Luke's are framed in the second person from the start. Perhaps most conspicuously of all, this passage from Luke includes an unhappy counterpart, which Matthew's Beatitudes do not. In Matthew, all the teachings come under the heading of "blessed are." In Luke, however, we hear Jesus add "woe to you" in several teachings.
Such differences, of course, belong more in our minds than in our sermons. That is to say, you and I do well, as the resident theologians and biblical scholars for our congregations, to recognize and reflect on such textual matters. Those sorts of details, however, generally do not serve the purpose of life-giving preaching.
The real difference that deserves to be highlighted in our gospel passage is not a difference between Matthew and Luke. Indeed, the two sets of teaching are very much the same in this important respect. No, the key difference is not between Matthew and Luke, but between Jesus and the world.
I mentioned earlier that the Beatitudes from Matthew are familiar material -- more familiar than this passage from Luke. Perhaps, therefore, this passage from Luke has an advantage: namely, that the people will hear it better. We don't hear and understand as well, of course, that which we think we already know. Because we don't know Luke's version as well, we may hear it better. If our people hear it well, they will likely be stunned to hear how counterintuitive these teachings of Jesus are.
That the poor and the hungry, the hated and mistreated should consider themselves "blessed" borders on the ridiculous. If we did not know that it came from Jesus, we might think that it came from a lunatic. Likewise going the other direction, "woe" is not the word we naturally associate with being rich, full, happy, and praised. Yet these are the dots that Jesus connects.
How is it, then, that we can make sense of such an upside-down picture of reality as what Jesus is suggesting here? Just so: by owning the fact that it seems upside down, for that puts us in a position to understand that God is, indeed, preparing to turn everything upside down. Except, of course, it's precisely when he intervenes to bring his will to pass that everything will actually be right-side up.
The mixed message of this teaching, therefore, is reminiscent of what we see the Old Testament prophets saying about the "day of the Lord." Is that day going to be good or bad? Is it something to anticipate or to dread? According to those prophets, it depends on who you are and how you've been living. And so too with this mixture of blessings and woes from Jesus.
Chances are, of course, that you will say something humorous during Sunday's sermon, and the people will laugh. Chances are good that most of your people and mine will leave church, enjoy an ample lunch, and come away "full." As they laugh and eat their fill, do they stand under the condemnation of Jesus? I don't think so, and I don't think that is the errant impression that the Lord wants our people to have.
I do suspect, however, that he wants us and our congregations to know that we are called to swim upstream in a fallen world. We are challenged to live right-side up in an upside-down world. While the rest of the world around us makes riches and public approval, laughter and self-indulgence into high priorities, our primary aspirations are different. They have to be: how else could we manage to love our enemies, turn our cheeks, and endure all sorts of mistreatment?
I must not send my people home, however, feeling that they are under some sort of a death sentence. The beautiful truth here, you see, is that Jesus is trying to direct us toward a higher happiness and surer reward then we would naturally enjoy. The key is in juxtaposing these two phrases: "Your reward is great in heaven" and "you have received your consolation." Therein lies the most crucial difference for our people to understand. It's not a difference between Matthew and Luke, it's a difference between choosing to live for this world with its pale, blemished, and temporal consolations, or to live for heaven!
Application
If only we could always see clearly.
I lived without glasses throughout my childhood and well into my adult life. I suppose I was (predictably) in my mid-40s when the optometrist's sophisticated machine proved to me that I could be seeing more clearly than I was. My eyes had aged out of their 20-20 vision, and so now they required help in order to enjoy the clarity both near and far that I needed.
So too with human beings in spiritual terms. We do not see clearly without help. It is not the help of contact lenses or trifocals that we need, however. Rather, it is the lens of hope and the perspective of faith that are required. For without them, the future is a blur. When we do not see the future clearly, we will not see the present very well either.
Both Daniel's vision and Jesus' teaching offer the kind of clarity with which the people of God ought to live. One is on a very different scale than the other, but the same truth emerges from both. In Daniel's case, the vision is macro. There are nations and kingdoms and the unfolding events of world history. In Jesus' case, the vision is more micro -- the day-to-day life of the individual disciple. Yet in both cases, the same principle pertains: namely, that clarity about the future will help us to see and live in the present.
Of course, since the vision needed here is spiritual rather than physical, perhaps we can employ a different sort of thing to help us see clearly. Eyeglasses will do us no good in this case. But words and music might! "And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song, and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, alleluia!"
An Alternative Application
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18. "Daniel's Reassurance for Us." It seems to me that the passage from Daniel gives us a special opportunity to preach a very pastoral sermon in the context of current events.
Consider, first of all, that Daniel was troubled and terrified by what he saw. In his case, of course, it was a vision. In our case, however, it may be something less surreal. We may be troubled by headlines and news reports. We may be terrified by what we see going on around the world. While what Daniel saw may have been more exotic, what we see may be still more frightening, for it is the world in which we live.
Second, consider Daniel's need for interpretation. We understand that too, for we also long for some explanation about some of the things we see happening in the world around us. We wonder what it means. And we wonder what the implications are for us.
Then, third, consider the ferocity of the kingdoms portrayed in the vision. The kingdoms are represented as beasts -- and odd ones at that. There is nothing tame about these depicted kingdoms. These beasts are a sort that you wouldn't want to run into on the street. We might say the same thing about some of the nations and leaders that posture and march across the world's stage today.
At first blush, the material in Daniel 7 may seem quite foreign to us. Upon further review, however, we find real resonance there. We may not immediately understand what Daniel was seeing, but we surely understand how he was feeling about it. And it is against that personal backdrop that the reassuring word spoken to Daniel is reassuring to us as well. For as frightening, uncertain, and ferocious as all that we see around us may be, it is all of it temporary and trumped. None of it lasts. And the kingdom that does last belongs to the one who loves us and gave his life for us. As the Psalmist rightly declares, "Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change… for he makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth... and (he is) exalted among the nations" (Psalm 46:2, 9-10).
_________
1. William How, “For All the Saints,” United Methodist Hymnal #711
How's portrait is triumphant, but not simplistic. He is not naïve about the saints' experience on earth. He owns the "darkness drear," the struggle, and the strife. He knows the warfare is long. Yet still, he sees through and beyond all of these to something greater.
How's hymn is a series of paradoxes, juxtaposing the present conflict with the future glory. It is the assurance of future glory that prevails in the end. All of the saints' troubles of this life and world are validated, vindicated, and rewarded.
"For All the Saints" is almost 150 years old, but it is by no means outdated. Perhaps when the people in our pews feel that all battles are won and all struggles are over, they will think the message irrelevant. Until then, however, How's faithful perspective remains precious and important.
Unless we are assured of the trumping, future reality, we may be overwhelmed by the circumstances of the present. How's paradoxes, therefore, are prized reminders of the truth. And we see those same paradoxes -- and reminders -- at work in our three lections for this week.
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18
Based on my thirty years of local church ministry, I have concluded that most church folks stopped learning the Bible when they were about thirteen years old. Consequently, they demonstrate a vague familiarity with the kinds of stories and lessons we customarily teach to children, but they don't seem to have gone much further. Accordingly, a passage like this one from Daniel is likely to be completely new material. Most of them know Daniel from the story from the lions' den. They may also recall the story about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, though they may never have realized that it was from Daniel's book.
Before reading this passage of scripture aloud, we might try a certain kind of experiment. We could ask folks to indicate whether or not they like the book of Revelation. My personal hunch is that people who like Revelation will find themselves attracted to this selection from Daniel. Conversely, people who are uncomfortable with Revelation will probably also recoil at this passage.
Of course, the real meat of Daniel's vision is assumed but not included in our assigned Old Testament text for this week, and it is the details of that sort of vision that are really a matter of taste. Some folks, as I suggested above, are very attracted to this kind of material in the Bible. Others frankly wish it weren't there. But both types of people can find a friend in Daniel. For the former group, of course, Daniel is the one who saw and recorded the vision. For the latter group, meanwhile, it seems that he too was troubled by it.
Like most of us, Daniel responds to the strange vision with an eagerness to have it interpreted. Just what does all this mean? What does it portend? And what does it have to do with me? As it happens, while the vision itself is full of detail, the interpretation is rather simple and straightforward: the four beasts represent four kingdoms, but there is another one who comes after.
The reference to four successive kingdoms is prominent elsewhere in Daniel as well, and our people would likely benefit from understanding the larger context. That context is found especially in the dream had by Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 2. In Daniel's interpretation of the king's dream four kingdoms are also represented, with a special work of God coming during the time of the fourth kingdom. This vision from Daniel 7 seems to follow the same contours as Nebuchadnezzar's dream. We might profitably employ one, therefore, to understand the other.
In Daniel's interpretation of that dream, you recall, the first kingdom is specifically identified as Nebuchadnezzar's own empire, which is presented as the historical context for the early portions of the book. The subsequent kingdom, therefore, would be the Media-Persian empire that succeeds the Babylonian empire. And then, of course, we remember from world history that Alexander the Great eventually defeated and replaced the Persians in that region. Finally, the next major player was the Roman empire.
Taken altogether, then, we have the prospect of God establishing his eternal kingdom beginning in the days of the Roman empire. Against that backdrop, then, the timing and content of John the Baptist's ministry takes on new significance. For in the days of the Roman emperor Tiberius, John appears on the scene declaring that the kingdom of God is at hand.
We read this episode from Daniel 7 in the same spirit, and we see the same fundamental truths. To the naked eye, the kingdoms of this world seem large and powerful -- even menacing and distressing. Yet there is something bigger and better yet to come. The reign of God is on the horizon, for he is the ultimate sovereign. All the "great beasts" of this world ultimately come and go. But the kingdom of God and of his saints will be "forever and ever."
Ephesians 1:11-23
Here is a classic Pauline passage. It is filled with truth and insight, yet it defies tidy organization. There is in Paul a combination of profundity and enthusiasm. The former makes his writing thick with meaning, while the latter often makes it loquacious and free-flowing. So in these early verses from his letter to the Ephesians, we find that he says so much -- too much to do justice to in a single reasonable-length sermon.
Our options, then, are to emphasize a single point or truth from this potpourri or to try somehow to capture the whole. I think the latter is more difficult; yet when I started with the former, it carried me to the latter. So I would offer my people this observation coming out of a text that is both broad and deep: there is no extracting the attributes of God from the blessings of God's people.
What do I mean?
I began by seeking to mine this text for its organization and its elements. As I did, I was struck by how much Paul declares in this passage about God. More specifically, he writes in a profoundly Trinitarian way. He is not generic and careless in speaking about God, as we often are. Rather, he is very specific in the things that he affirms about the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. And so at some level the passage before us invites a sermon that explores and extols the persons of the Trinity.
Here is a worthwhile endeavor for the preacher wrestling with this text. Indeed, it would be a fruitful exercise for our congregations too in settings conducive to pen-and-paper work with the Bible open before them. Divide a sheet of paper into three columns. Make "the Father" the label over the first column, "the Son" the label for the second, and "the Holy Spirit" the label for the third. Then as you read through the passage, jot down in the appropriate column what Paul says about each. The rich yield from such an exercise will illustrate how much Paul has packed into these few verses, and how much there is for us to preach and teach here.
When I tried to develop a sermon along those lines, however, I was frustrated and delighted, for as I sought to prepare a message about the Trinity, I discovered the gospel truth that I could not disentangle Paul's exclamations about God from his affirmations about us. That's not to say that we are being praised along with God, or that God's attributes and ours are confused by Paul. Not at all. Rather, Paul's reflections on the glory, grace, goodness, and providence of God are all inextricably tied to what God has done for us. It is truly a testimony to God's character that to speak of his attributes leads so naturally to a discussion of our salvation. This is not an anthropocentric theology; rather, it is the natural byproduct of God's grace.
The gospel of John is not on our radar this week, but a word that Jesus speaks there illuminates the truth found here. In that gospel's extended Last Supper scene Jesus prays for his disciples, saying along the way: "The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one" (John 17:22-23a). The prayer suggests the paradigm, you see: a God who invites us in, a Trinity that includes us. And this, in my reading, is the overarching, beautiful truth that emerges from our Ephesians passage, tying all of its other wonders together.
Luke 6:20-31
For some reason, which I confess I do not know, Matthew's Sermon on the Mount has worked its way into the consciousness of American Christianity more than Luke's Sermon on the Plain. Though there is much overlap in the material, the one collection of teachings has become far more familiar and cherished than the other. Consequently, when our people begin to hear this week's gospel lection they will think at first that they recognize the material; after a moment, however, they will wonder why it sounds a bit different.
This passage from Luke is a bit different from the more familiar Beatitudes of Matthew 5. Luke's version, for example, famously puts a greater emphasis on the physical, while Matthew's could be said to be somewhat more spiritual. Also, Matthew's Beatitudes begin in the third person, eventually moving to second-person references near the end, while Luke's are framed in the second person from the start. Perhaps most conspicuously of all, this passage from Luke includes an unhappy counterpart, which Matthew's Beatitudes do not. In Matthew, all the teachings come under the heading of "blessed are." In Luke, however, we hear Jesus add "woe to you" in several teachings.
Such differences, of course, belong more in our minds than in our sermons. That is to say, you and I do well, as the resident theologians and biblical scholars for our congregations, to recognize and reflect on such textual matters. Those sorts of details, however, generally do not serve the purpose of life-giving preaching.
The real difference that deserves to be highlighted in our gospel passage is not a difference between Matthew and Luke. Indeed, the two sets of teaching are very much the same in this important respect. No, the key difference is not between Matthew and Luke, but between Jesus and the world.
I mentioned earlier that the Beatitudes from Matthew are familiar material -- more familiar than this passage from Luke. Perhaps, therefore, this passage from Luke has an advantage: namely, that the people will hear it better. We don't hear and understand as well, of course, that which we think we already know. Because we don't know Luke's version as well, we may hear it better. If our people hear it well, they will likely be stunned to hear how counterintuitive these teachings of Jesus are.
That the poor and the hungry, the hated and mistreated should consider themselves "blessed" borders on the ridiculous. If we did not know that it came from Jesus, we might think that it came from a lunatic. Likewise going the other direction, "woe" is not the word we naturally associate with being rich, full, happy, and praised. Yet these are the dots that Jesus connects.
How is it, then, that we can make sense of such an upside-down picture of reality as what Jesus is suggesting here? Just so: by owning the fact that it seems upside down, for that puts us in a position to understand that God is, indeed, preparing to turn everything upside down. Except, of course, it's precisely when he intervenes to bring his will to pass that everything will actually be right-side up.
The mixed message of this teaching, therefore, is reminiscent of what we see the Old Testament prophets saying about the "day of the Lord." Is that day going to be good or bad? Is it something to anticipate or to dread? According to those prophets, it depends on who you are and how you've been living. And so too with this mixture of blessings and woes from Jesus.
Chances are, of course, that you will say something humorous during Sunday's sermon, and the people will laugh. Chances are good that most of your people and mine will leave church, enjoy an ample lunch, and come away "full." As they laugh and eat their fill, do they stand under the condemnation of Jesus? I don't think so, and I don't think that is the errant impression that the Lord wants our people to have.
I do suspect, however, that he wants us and our congregations to know that we are called to swim upstream in a fallen world. We are challenged to live right-side up in an upside-down world. While the rest of the world around us makes riches and public approval, laughter and self-indulgence into high priorities, our primary aspirations are different. They have to be: how else could we manage to love our enemies, turn our cheeks, and endure all sorts of mistreatment?
I must not send my people home, however, feeling that they are under some sort of a death sentence. The beautiful truth here, you see, is that Jesus is trying to direct us toward a higher happiness and surer reward then we would naturally enjoy. The key is in juxtaposing these two phrases: "Your reward is great in heaven" and "you have received your consolation." Therein lies the most crucial difference for our people to understand. It's not a difference between Matthew and Luke, it's a difference between choosing to live for this world with its pale, blemished, and temporal consolations, or to live for heaven!
Application
If only we could always see clearly.
I lived without glasses throughout my childhood and well into my adult life. I suppose I was (predictably) in my mid-40s when the optometrist's sophisticated machine proved to me that I could be seeing more clearly than I was. My eyes had aged out of their 20-20 vision, and so now they required help in order to enjoy the clarity both near and far that I needed.
So too with human beings in spiritual terms. We do not see clearly without help. It is not the help of contact lenses or trifocals that we need, however. Rather, it is the lens of hope and the perspective of faith that are required. For without them, the future is a blur. When we do not see the future clearly, we will not see the present very well either.
Both Daniel's vision and Jesus' teaching offer the kind of clarity with which the people of God ought to live. One is on a very different scale than the other, but the same truth emerges from both. In Daniel's case, the vision is macro. There are nations and kingdoms and the unfolding events of world history. In Jesus' case, the vision is more micro -- the day-to-day life of the individual disciple. Yet in both cases, the same principle pertains: namely, that clarity about the future will help us to see and live in the present.
Of course, since the vision needed here is spiritual rather than physical, perhaps we can employ a different sort of thing to help us see clearly. Eyeglasses will do us no good in this case. But words and music might! "And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song, and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, alleluia!"
An Alternative Application
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18. "Daniel's Reassurance for Us." It seems to me that the passage from Daniel gives us a special opportunity to preach a very pastoral sermon in the context of current events.
Consider, first of all, that Daniel was troubled and terrified by what he saw. In his case, of course, it was a vision. In our case, however, it may be something less surreal. We may be troubled by headlines and news reports. We may be terrified by what we see going on around the world. While what Daniel saw may have been more exotic, what we see may be still more frightening, for it is the world in which we live.
Second, consider Daniel's need for interpretation. We understand that too, for we also long for some explanation about some of the things we see happening in the world around us. We wonder what it means. And we wonder what the implications are for us.
Then, third, consider the ferocity of the kingdoms portrayed in the vision. The kingdoms are represented as beasts -- and odd ones at that. There is nothing tame about these depicted kingdoms. These beasts are a sort that you wouldn't want to run into on the street. We might say the same thing about some of the nations and leaders that posture and march across the world's stage today.
At first blush, the material in Daniel 7 may seem quite foreign to us. Upon further review, however, we find real resonance there. We may not immediately understand what Daniel was seeing, but we surely understand how he was feeling about it. And it is against that personal backdrop that the reassuring word spoken to Daniel is reassuring to us as well. For as frightening, uncertain, and ferocious as all that we see around us may be, it is all of it temporary and trumped. None of it lasts. And the kingdom that does last belongs to the one who loves us and gave his life for us. As the Psalmist rightly declares, "Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change… for he makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth... and (he is) exalted among the nations" (Psalm 46:2, 9-10).
_________
1. William How, “For All the Saints,” United Methodist Hymnal #711
