Sermon Transcript: September 1, 2024
We are finishing our series on holy imagination and the book of Daniel today. For several weeks now, we have been reading the book of Daniel, which is, you know, I think it’s fair to say, a kind of peculiar book in the Hebrew scriptures. It’s full of vivid tales and strange visions. Daniel seems to have an affinity for stories about animals and really tricky situations. We also learned that the beginning of the book of Daniel is a collection of stories about Daniel and his compatriots, who are Jewish leaders in a foreign land under foreign rule. They have found favor, but there are always those who are out to get them, putting them in tricky situations that allow an opportunity for God’s power and intervention to be shown.
The latter half of the book consists of visions and dreams that Daniel has about the future. These visions often bring into conflict the powers of this world, the kings of this world, and God’s reign. Today, in chapter 12, we encounter the culminating vision from Daniel. It reads:
Daniel 12: 1-3, 5-13
“At that time, Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish that has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time, your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars, forever and ever. Then I, Daniel, looked, and two others appeared, one standing on this bank of the stream and one on the other. One of them said to the man clothed in linen, who was upstream, ‘How long shall it be until the end of these wonders?’ The man clothed in linen, who was upstream, raised his right hand and his left hand toward heaven. And I heard him swear by the one who lives forever that it would be for a time, two times, and half a time, and that when the shattering of the power of the holy people comes to an end, all these things would be accomplished. I heard, but could not understand. So I said, ‘My lord, what shall be the outcome of these things?’ He said, ‘Go your way, Daniel, for these words are to remain secret and sealed until the time of the end. Many shall be purified, cleansed, and refined, but the wicked shall continue to act wickedly. None of the wicked shall understand, but those who are wise shall understand. From the time that the regular burnt offering is taken away and the abomination that desolates is set up, there shall be 1,290 days. Happy are those who persevere and attain the 1,335 days. But you, go your way and rest. You shall rise for your reward at the end of the days.'”
For the word of God in scripture, for the word of God among us, for the word of God within us—thanks be to God.
I see your faces. It’s strange—these visions of the end. We’ve been talking about this idea of apocalypse and the general understanding that we have, largely based on television shows and media, of the end of days being a time of destruction and judgment. I’ve reminded us more than a few times that, biblically speaking, apocalypse is not quite as scary as that. What it really means is just this idea of a glimpse behind the curtain of this reality to see God’s deeper, truer, hopefully more loving and benevolent reality.
But passages like this challenge us with that. What do we do with them? These passages of judgment seem to separate the righteous and the wicked, promising eternal reward for some and eternal punishment for others.
But before we get there, let me talk a little bit about what we see in front of us today. Now, we did a pretty good job of zhuzhing it up, making it look good, but there are a lot of things that are kind of hanging out up here, looking half done. If you were here last week and came this week without knowing what was going on, and you walked into the sanctuary this morning, or even worse, in the middle of last week, and saw this without knowing that there is a plan in place for what this space will eventually look like, you might be alarmed, confused. You might wonder what went wrong. What led to this destruction? You might be concerned—was there a water leak? Were we the victims of vandals?
But if you know that this deconstruction is part of a larger vision of renewal, your reaction is probably different. Yes, there might be a little bit of shock or surprise, maybe even a little sadness over the loss of what was, but there’s also hope and excitement for what is to come. Because you know that something new is on the horizon. Something exciting, something for which we have hoped and planned.
Our bulletin cover quote is one of my favorites. It’s very meaningful to me. It’s from Parker Palmer. He says, “Every life is lived towards a horizon, a distant vision of what lies ahead. And the quality of our actions depends heavily on whether the horizon is dark with death or full of light and life.”
At first blush, the vision described in Daniel chapter 12 does not seem to be full of light and life. There are words of judgment and the end of days. But we must remember that this vision is not cast onto a blank slate. It’s given to a certain people at a certain time in certain circumstances. Daniel is writing to the Jewish people who were in diaspora, living in foreign lands under foreign powers.
Biblical commentator Michael Chan reminds us that “throughout the book of Daniel, a central theme has been God’s work in the context of human empires. In chapter 12, this theme reaches its ultimate culmination as the empire of death itself comes to an end, and history’s players are divided between the righteous and the unrighteous. The ultimate sorting of humanity represents the final victory of God’s kingdom over all earthly powers.”
Now, you and I, I’m willing to bet, get uncomfortable when the Bible talks about this idea of final judgment. It seems to run counter to our notions of a loving God. We wonder, how can a loving God sentence some to some sort of eternal and everlasting punishment?
But what I want us to consider today is that this is a very privileged perspective. This theology assumes a certain amount of comfort and complicity with the status quo. Daniel is writing to people in diaspora, people who have lost their home and their history, those who are under the rule of foreign principalities, those who are viewed and treated as second-class citizens or worse, those who are oppressed, depressed, and violated as a matter of course. From their perspective, how could a loving God not stand in judgment over those who have persecuted them? How could God give them a pass so easily?
“Every life is lived towards a horizon, a distant vision of what lies ahead. And the quality of our actions now depends heavily on whether that horizon is dark with death or full of light and life.” For those living in dire circumstances, like those to whom Daniel writes, for those living under oppression, in order for the horizon to be full of light and life, some sort of judgment must be pronounced in their favor, against their persecutors.
You see, the question is not how can a loving God stand in judgment? But how do God’s love and judgment work together for the healing of all creation?
I have a friend who reads the ends of novels first. It irks me to no end that he does this. I’ve asked him, “Why? Why, for the love of all that is good, do you do this?” And he says, quite simply, “I don’t want to invest all that time in reading it if it ends badly.” And isn’t that what we all want to know? How does it end? Is it worth the time and effort that we are putting in?
Friends, despite what too many claim, the Bible doesn’t give us infallible answers to that question. It’s even there right at the end of our Daniel passage: this will remain a mystery, a secret. Rather, it gives us the questions themselves. And the difference between us and my friend who reads the end of stories is we’re not just reading the story; we’re helping to write it as well.
And so, yes, our vision of what is to come is absolutely crucial, even if it’s not absolutely certain. If we hold no hope for a better future, a better world, a better tomorrow, then our actions now will reflect that despair. But if we have faith that there is light and life on the horizon, then we can endure hardship and discomfort in the near term because we have a vision of wholeness that is to come. We can fight for justice and stand with the oppressed because we know that this present order is for now, not forever.
So, what is this vision? What is our hope? What does it look like?
It looks something like this: we’re told again and again in the Bible, it looks like a meal, and a table, and a people. A meal where everyone is nourished, a table where no one is left out, a people that includes you and me, and somehow, someway, our enemies as well.
What we don’t get is the whole picture. We get a glimpse behind the curtain, a peek now and again. Just a holy vision that the goodness of God we know now is only a preview of what is to come. But even more than that, a holy vision that we do—we get to do more than just wait for it. We can live into it now and help bring about an ever-greater fullness tomorrow.
Even though much has already been said, we can sing a new song to the Lord.
Amen.
