Revelation 22:16
“It is I, Jesus, who sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.” Classical Insight The word ἄγγελος (angelos) means “messenger” in Greek, before it comes to mean “angel” in the sense of a semi-divine/non-human messenger of God. Messengers (angeloi) are stock characters in Greek tragedy, where they generally report the dramatic, grisly, and often upsetting events that have occurred “offstage.” They thus play a crucial dramatic role, despite the fact that they often go unnamed and possess very little power or authority within the world of the play itself. The messenger of Sophocles’ Antigone is a particularly interesting case: he’s a somewhat comic figure, marked by cowardice and indecision, yet occasionally capable of manipulating and redirecting the powerful tyrant Creon. He’s no “angel” in the Christian sense, yet he’s an important and complex figure who speaks words of great significance. Devotion A messenger can be good or bad, the bearer of glad tidings or horrific tragedy. In scripture, messengers can be human, such as John the Baptist (Matt. 11:10), or supernatural such as the angels of the seven churches in Revelation. Regardless of whether they have wings or not, messengers carry information from one setting into another. In Revelation 2 and 3, the angels of the churches receive information from the Lord to communicate to their respective earthly communities. Messengers, earthly or otherwise, exist because we cannot be everywhere at once or know everything as it happens. When it comes to Revelation, that is especially true. The churches know that they are struggling, but not the full reason why. In Revelation John informs them that their struggles have underlying causes that are not of this world. The turmoil of the heavens is felt through human suffering. Perhaps our holiday tendency to decorate our homes with sparkling angels bearing sweet smiles and beautiful wings is a reflection of our own limitations. There is more to this world than we know. Unforseen events occurring “offstage” impact our lives in unexpected ways. Even so, angels give us hints of hope and words of encouragement. We don’t need to know everything to persist in following Jesus. Questions for Reflection When have you been an angel: communicating new information to an individual or group? What was it like? Was the news good or bad? What about the experience sticks out for you?
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Revelation 2: 1-2 “To the angel of the church in Ephesus write: These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks among the seven golden lampstands: “I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. 3 I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary. Classical Insight: In earlier Greek literature, we sometimes find this word (in its verbal form, ὑπομένω / hupomenō) in martial contexts, meaning to “stand one’s ground, to stand firm.” In the Iliad, for example, the poet describes how the “Argives (= the Greeks) stood firm, all together, and were not afraid” (Ἀργεῖοι δ᾽ ὑπέμειναν ἀολλέες οὐδὲ φόβηθεν, Homer, Iliad 5.498). Devotion: Seeing as ὑπομονή shows up both in Revelation, a book where war breaks out in heaven and on earth and makes an appearance in the Iliad where war breaks out in heaven and on earth, one would expect the early church to be more warlike. The prophet John commends the church of Ephesus for its ὑπομονή, its patient endurance, the fact that these Christians are standing their ground. But what does that mean? Certainly, none of these churches are handing out swords and going to war. Whatever conflicts rage in the heavens, for the Christians addressed in Revelation, standing their ground meant, as my beloved Oma used to say “putting one foot in front of the other.” They are to continue following Jesus even when such discipleship is inconvenient or dangerous. For the churches named in Revelation, persecution could be anything from trial, to prison, to economic hardship, and cultural isolation. All these things must be endured and in being endured, the gospel of a God who also endures hardship in Christ Jesus is proclaimed. To endure, to get up day after day and put on Christ for one another, is how we follow Jesus, then and now. Questions: What are examples of patient endurance from your own life? How can the church practice patient endurance in such times as these? One of the lesser appreciated parts of Advent is the eschatological anticipation. What I mean is, even as the season looks forward to the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, it also anticipates Jesus' arrival, his advent, in the here and now.
When it comes to the glory of God being revealed or "uncovered" in our own reality, the word we use is apocalypse, ἀποκάλυψις in Greek. And when we want to get a good dose of apocalypse we go to the Book of Revelation, which is actually a translation of the word apocalypse. In Revelation we are treated to cosmic battles, demonic dragons, and visions of both utter destruction and transformative renewal. There is life, there is death, and there are demon locusts! Yet, even as the Prophet John describes the unmaking of the entire universe, he has a particular group of people in mind, a specific set of congregations: seven churches located in what is now eastern Turkey. John wrote to these churches because they were in the midst of their own 2020 moment. For these congregations keeping the faith of Jesus could be dangerous, leading to arrest and trial. Keeping the faith could also be exhaustingly inconvenient, resulting in economic hardship and cultural isolation. The churches were growing weary and discouraged. Being church was no longer a life giving, soul restoring experience for them, it was just plain difficult. In Revelation, John uncovers for these churches the bigger, dare I say cosmic, picture. But before he begins to paint his vision of demonic tribulation and celestial glory, John addresses each of the churches, offering them encouragement and admonishment. These addresses all share a similar outline and a number of words show up again and again. Quite clever words, indeed. Since we too find ourselves in days of tribulation and isolation, the Liturgisaur will be examining a number of the words that show up in the first three chapters of Revelation. On the Tuesdays and Thursdays in Advent this blog will have a new post about a different apocalyptic word accompanied by a devotion. I hope you will be able to use these reflections as a spiritual resource as we enter into this season of hope and anticipation. In Christ, Pastor Emily and the Liturgisaur Scripture gives us little information about the retirement of Mary the mother of Jesus. By retirement, I mean her life and work after the resurrection of Christ. In my particular context as pastor at Christ the King Lutheran, retirees are a potent force in the church and larger community. Many of CTK’s members claim to be more active in their retirement than they were before. I agree with them. Retirees get things done. I believe that the same was true for Mary. Our last glimpse of her in scripture is the mention of her in Acts, where she is among the faithful awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost (Acts 1:14). Just as Mary mothered Jesus through his terrible twos, contrary adolescence, and into adulthood, she is among those nurturing and tending the young church. While scripture has little else to say about Mary’s retirement, Christian tradition offers us additional stories about Mary’s adventures following the resurrection. In fact, there is such a rich store of extra-biblical legends about Mary that they sometimes bump against each other. There are multiple sites which all claim to be the location of Mary’s last decades of life, her death, and her bodily assumption into heaven: two in Jerusalem, one in France, and one on a mountain near Ephesus, Turkey. As pilgrims we visited this last location: the House of the Virgin Mary located at the top of Mt. Koressos.
Whether Mary spent her retirement in Jerusalem, France, or on top of a mountain in Turkey is anyone’s guess. What matters is the tradition of adoption that inspired Anne Katherine Emmerich to dream Mary all the way to Turkey. “Woman, here is your son…here is your mother”. Even before the Holy Spirit was tearing through Jerusalem setting everyone’s hair on fire, the church has been about creating family in the face of loss. At the foot of the cross, John was there for Mary to cling to as her son hung in agony. Mary was there for John weep with as he watched his friend dying by inches. Jesus saw this sharing of pain and sanctified it from the cross: “Woman, here is your son.” The House of the Virgin Mary honors this kind of love, the love of people who have been placed, drawn, or even thrown together, and are richer for it. For instance, Mary’s House is a unique holy site in that it is visited and cared for by both Christians and Muslims, since both faiths honor Mary.
You see as pilgrims, bus-mates, and friends, we, my parents, my roommate, all of us on this trip, are bound to each other, commended to each other as Mary and John were commended to each other. Placed, drawn, and even thrown together we are richer for each other. The care and kindness we offer each other is more than mere courtesy. It is the same kind of love Christ sanctified from the cross and the same love which is honored at Mary’s house: the love of people who have adopted one another in the name of Jesus and in honor of his mother.
Ancient Corinth is dominated by the Temple to Apollo which sits above the town center. Below sprawl the remains of shops, colonnades, and even the bema, or speaking platform, where the Apostle Paul was once accused before the proconsul Gallio. Paul was a resident of Corinth for some time. He worked in the city as tentmaker alongside fellow believers Aquila and Priscilla. He spent time in the local synagogue, going there regularly. The spirit of God even urges Paul to continue to stay in Corinth, sharing the gospel of Jesus. For a time, a year and more, Corinth is home to Paul. And Corinth like any city, town, or village was a chaotic mixture of sin, grace, and redemption. Paul’s words were heard by many: sailors just in from the sea, prostitutes plying their trade, Jews, God Fearers of various backgrounds, Roman officials, Greeks, and soldiers. As Paul walked through this town, now little more than rocks with a history, he encountered humans at their best and their worst. Beggars extended their hands to him, Roman soldiers shoved past him, prostitutes beckoned him, slaves hustled by, and Believers, coming from any and all of these groups, greeted him with thanksgiving.
Just as God planted Paul in Corinth for a time, God plants us too and bids us flourish for the sake of the Gospel. We may also have misgivings about the place of our planting. Perhaps it is somewhere that disappoints us or frightens us. Maybe the place of our planting is not what it used to be or should be. Whatever the place of our planting, God is the one who put us there and God is the one who puts us to work enriching and renewing a tired, cynical, and despairing world.
Rarely is the place of our planting what it should be, but that is the very reason that God plants us there. We are not spectators to the coming kingdom of God, we are involved, rooted in God’s saving work. Paul’s time in Corinth shows us what it is to claim the place of our planting. Jesus’ life on earth does the same. We are invited to love the soil where God has placed us, care for the people growing up around us, and claim the community God has given us to tend. This community will not be perfect. It may even be a place of disappointment, frustration, and discouragement. However, we have the assurance that this will not always be so. God is at work renewing and recreating our world and we are involved: in our homes, in our towns, in the places of our planting. Shall we gather at the river? As Christians our faith songs are full of rivers: Shall We Gather at The River, There’s River of Life, As I Went Down to the River to Pray, the list continues. As is often the case, scripture is our inspiration. The Bible is rich in rivers: the four rivers which flow from the Garden of Eden, the River Jordan, source of liberation, healing, and the site of Jesus’ baptism, the river of life which flows through the City of God, and many, many more. Of course, as Lutherans, when it comes to rivers we like to keep our rivers in scripture, literature, and firmly in the past. Shall we gather at the river? Maybe not. We’re sprinklers not dunkers when it comes to baptism. We prefer out water to be neatly contained and easily accessible in a nice, solid baptismal font. But, gather at the river we pilgrims did on Sunday morning. We traveled to a small but swift moving river near Philippi at the possible site of Lydia’s baptism by Paul.
Perhaps that is the point, though. Christian community is not about our individual experiences of the divine, but the way we haltingly meet and bear Christ together. Jesus lives in the community into which we have been baptized. A community where we lean on one another for support and grace.
Such was the community that Lydia and her fellow believers entered that Sabbath Day at the river. Lydia did not go down to the river alone. She was part of a larger community that carried each other and leaned on one another. That is our community too. Lydia is one of us and we are one of hers. Staggering, picking our way carefully down steep steps, offering steadying hands and supportive shoulders, we all go down to the River of Life together. The Liturgisaur knows a lot about bones. Dinosaurs tend to be experts on the subject. When it comes to dinosaurs, bones are what people know for sure and everything else is well researched guesswork: skin, behavior, dietary habits, etc. There’s a lot of scientific wonderment that goes into paleontology. But bones do have an air of mystery about them. There’s a certain reverence to standing in a museum hall packed with femurs, skulls, teeth, and questions. We are invited to reflect on the life of something bigger than us. Something imaginable, but not altogether knowable. And we pilgrims encountered something similar when we arrived at the Church of Saint Demetrios in Thessaloniki. The church itself contains layers of mystery: in the seventh century the church burnt down and had to be rebuilt. While the destruction was extensive, efforts were made to preserve what artwork remained. As a result the building is filled with partial mosaics: an angel face and wing covering the corner of a blank wall, Saint Demetrios standing with hands extended in blessing, beautiful even in their incompleteness. Something imaginable, but not altogether knowable.
God is a walking God, a God who puts feet on the ground and goes from point A to point B, usually with the rest of the alphabet in between.
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About the Blog
Journey through the season of Advent with daily updates on the adventures of St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Belliacre, MI as they attempt to cobble together a Christmas Pageant with an unlikely cast of characters. AuthorsAmelia Corbett Illustrator
Stephanie Dubbs
Stephanie is an art educator and a landscape/portrait artist. Her inspirations come from the amazing people she meets and the gorgeous state of Michigan as well as her home state of Florida. She and he husband love nature. They are out in the water during the summer months and on the snow in the winter enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Archives
December 2021
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