God's rewards are for the living
Commentary
Object:
Books that describe visits to heaven are very popular these days. Some people seem to not only want assurance that heaven is for real, but that it will also be a place they will enjoy. I wonder how much of this has to do with our need to avoid surprises, to have everything laid out in advance. Even so, the texts for All Saints Day speak to our reward in concrete terms that describe satisfaction, full bellies, and eyes dried from every tear. And with the gospel text we have the assurance that God understands fully just what that pain has been like for all of us, as we lose loved ones and face our own deaths as well, because in the gospel passage Jesus can truly say “Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.”
The thing to remember is that the use of the word “saints” in the New Testament refers to the living. The Revelation of Jesus Christ especially emphasizes our place in the great celebration that is going on. The earliest Christians understood this. Their communion feasts were celebrations of Jesus, and they also celebrated meals in honor of their departed loved ones as present members of their families.
These banquets, these dry eyes, and the restoration of love and life are happening right now, not just in the future. We believe in “pie in the sky when you die.” With All Saints Day, we are also called to enjoy a slice of pie right now, especially when it’s passed around the table.
Need another text? Song of Songs 8:6 will do nicely.
Isaiah 25:6-9
Isaiah writes on the edge of political dissolution. The Assyrians are threatening, and there does not seem to be any way for kings and counselors to wrangle their way out of this. That makes this prophetic speech by Isaiah all the more astounding. God’s plan, both now and (see Revelation) forever, is the feast of good things, the ending of sorrows, and the conquering of death. The people have been living in death. There is a shroud over everything they do. Now real life begins, authentic life which we experience now as well as beyond life.
This particular text comes at the end of a section in which Isaiah pronounces doom on the various nations that threaten God’s people. Despite their apparent power, God remains in control of history. The second section closes with chapters 24-27 -- in which God proclaims peace, plenty, and restoration with words that will resound in Revelation, taking an even greater significance in the end of time, while remaining an assurance that people in Isaiah’s time would know peace, plenty, and the removal of that feeling that a shroud of death covers everything they do.
It may seem counterintuitive to proclaim peace and plenty when the world seems to be falling apart all around us, but the people of God see things differently. We also see things correctly.
Revelation 21:1-6a
The Revelation of Jesus Christ (its true title, taken from the first few words of the book) is not so much about the future -- it’s mostly about the present. Part of the confusion is that people nowadays are unfamiliar with the genre. In mysteries, you’ve got a dead body and someone’s going to figure out whodunnit. In romance novels, there’s a man and a woman at cross-purposes and somehow they’re going to find each other.
In apocalyptic writing, the people of God are under extreme duress. A revelation from heaven assures God’s people that tough times don’t last but tough people do. Hold on. Wait a little longer. The latest tyrant will have his day and disappear. We’ve seen it before. We’ll see it again. And in the meantime, rest assured, God’s history will end in glory.
I’m not sure if Revelation was written during Nero’s persecution in the 60s or Diocletian’s persecution in the 90s. No matter. It works for whatever time we live in. The Revelation shows us that the martyrs -- whether Anabaptists burned at the stake by both Catholics and Protestants a few centuries ago, or our brothers and sisters in Nigeria or the Middle East right now -- may appear to be dead but are doing just fine, and that it is our task to be faithful witnesses like them.
Now this passage, near the end, shows us God’s plan for all of us: the new heaven, the new earth, and eternal glory. With the Isaiah passage in mind, we see there is no more crying there. Death is swallowed up forever.
Most of all, God is with us. The word for “dwell” (in both John 1:14 and here) is “to tent” (reminiscent of the tabernacle). God is tenting with us. And he will tent with us forever.
John 11:32-44
It used to be something of a joke, based no doubt on real experience, that in the old days when Sunday school students could earn points by memorizing Bible verses they always kept John 11:35 in reserve for when they’d forgotten to study -- “Jesus wept.”
But why did Jesus weep? John the evangelist portrays always portrays Jesus as the one in control of events, even during his arrest and crucifixion. In the story of the raising of Lazarus, Jesus seems to have designed everything for maximum effect. When told that his good friend is dying, he stalls so that he will not arrive while Lazarus is still alive. When he does arrive, he does not proceed immediately to the grave but takes time for conversation with two other dear friends, Martha and Mary. (And by the way, if you expand the reading note that Martha must have taken Jesus’ words spoken in the gospel of Luke -- that Mary had chosen the better part -- to heart, because she speaks in strong theological language and makes the most amazing confession of faith in Jesus until we hear the words of Believing Thomas after the resurrection.)
Yet when finally led to the tomb, Jesus breaks down. My own belief has to do with a central point in the gospel. In the Good News according to John, when you encounter Jesus you either get it or you don’t. Nicodemus doesn’t get it (at least not until later). The woman at the well does. His mother Mary gets it. Pilate doesn’t get it.
Jesus, fully divine and fully human, doesn’t get it -- not until he is in the presence of all who are weeping and wailing. Then, even though he knows he will call Lazarus back to life in just a few moments, Jesus seems to finally understand the painful loss that comes with death, and realizes he is to blame here. Verse 38 says Jesus was greatly disturbed. A better translation of the verb enbrimomai is to be mad at yourself. Jesus was mad at himself. He got it. This whole scene was his fault. He wept. And because of that we have the promise in the other scriptures that we will weep no more. Truly our Savior has walked that valley of the shadow of death, and felt in the depths of his spirit the sorrow of our condition. And therein lies our hope.
The thing to remember is that the use of the word “saints” in the New Testament refers to the living. The Revelation of Jesus Christ especially emphasizes our place in the great celebration that is going on. The earliest Christians understood this. Their communion feasts were celebrations of Jesus, and they also celebrated meals in honor of their departed loved ones as present members of their families.
These banquets, these dry eyes, and the restoration of love and life are happening right now, not just in the future. We believe in “pie in the sky when you die.” With All Saints Day, we are also called to enjoy a slice of pie right now, especially when it’s passed around the table.
Need another text? Song of Songs 8:6 will do nicely.
Isaiah 25:6-9
Isaiah writes on the edge of political dissolution. The Assyrians are threatening, and there does not seem to be any way for kings and counselors to wrangle their way out of this. That makes this prophetic speech by Isaiah all the more astounding. God’s plan, both now and (see Revelation) forever, is the feast of good things, the ending of sorrows, and the conquering of death. The people have been living in death. There is a shroud over everything they do. Now real life begins, authentic life which we experience now as well as beyond life.
This particular text comes at the end of a section in which Isaiah pronounces doom on the various nations that threaten God’s people. Despite their apparent power, God remains in control of history. The second section closes with chapters 24-27 -- in which God proclaims peace, plenty, and restoration with words that will resound in Revelation, taking an even greater significance in the end of time, while remaining an assurance that people in Isaiah’s time would know peace, plenty, and the removal of that feeling that a shroud of death covers everything they do.
It may seem counterintuitive to proclaim peace and plenty when the world seems to be falling apart all around us, but the people of God see things differently. We also see things correctly.
Revelation 21:1-6a
The Revelation of Jesus Christ (its true title, taken from the first few words of the book) is not so much about the future -- it’s mostly about the present. Part of the confusion is that people nowadays are unfamiliar with the genre. In mysteries, you’ve got a dead body and someone’s going to figure out whodunnit. In romance novels, there’s a man and a woman at cross-purposes and somehow they’re going to find each other.
In apocalyptic writing, the people of God are under extreme duress. A revelation from heaven assures God’s people that tough times don’t last but tough people do. Hold on. Wait a little longer. The latest tyrant will have his day and disappear. We’ve seen it before. We’ll see it again. And in the meantime, rest assured, God’s history will end in glory.
I’m not sure if Revelation was written during Nero’s persecution in the 60s or Diocletian’s persecution in the 90s. No matter. It works for whatever time we live in. The Revelation shows us that the martyrs -- whether Anabaptists burned at the stake by both Catholics and Protestants a few centuries ago, or our brothers and sisters in Nigeria or the Middle East right now -- may appear to be dead but are doing just fine, and that it is our task to be faithful witnesses like them.
Now this passage, near the end, shows us God’s plan for all of us: the new heaven, the new earth, and eternal glory. With the Isaiah passage in mind, we see there is no more crying there. Death is swallowed up forever.
Most of all, God is with us. The word for “dwell” (in both John 1:14 and here) is “to tent” (reminiscent of the tabernacle). God is tenting with us. And he will tent with us forever.
John 11:32-44
It used to be something of a joke, based no doubt on real experience, that in the old days when Sunday school students could earn points by memorizing Bible verses they always kept John 11:35 in reserve for when they’d forgotten to study -- “Jesus wept.”
But why did Jesus weep? John the evangelist portrays always portrays Jesus as the one in control of events, even during his arrest and crucifixion. In the story of the raising of Lazarus, Jesus seems to have designed everything for maximum effect. When told that his good friend is dying, he stalls so that he will not arrive while Lazarus is still alive. When he does arrive, he does not proceed immediately to the grave but takes time for conversation with two other dear friends, Martha and Mary. (And by the way, if you expand the reading note that Martha must have taken Jesus’ words spoken in the gospel of Luke -- that Mary had chosen the better part -- to heart, because she speaks in strong theological language and makes the most amazing confession of faith in Jesus until we hear the words of Believing Thomas after the resurrection.)
Yet when finally led to the tomb, Jesus breaks down. My own belief has to do with a central point in the gospel. In the Good News according to John, when you encounter Jesus you either get it or you don’t. Nicodemus doesn’t get it (at least not until later). The woman at the well does. His mother Mary gets it. Pilate doesn’t get it.
Jesus, fully divine and fully human, doesn’t get it -- not until he is in the presence of all who are weeping and wailing. Then, even though he knows he will call Lazarus back to life in just a few moments, Jesus seems to finally understand the painful loss that comes with death, and realizes he is to blame here. Verse 38 says Jesus was greatly disturbed. A better translation of the verb enbrimomai is to be mad at yourself. Jesus was mad at himself. He got it. This whole scene was his fault. He wept. And because of that we have the promise in the other scriptures that we will weep no more. Truly our Savior has walked that valley of the shadow of death, and felt in the depths of his spirit the sorrow of our condition. And therein lies our hope.
