Texts: Revelation 19:6-9; Isaiah 25:6-9

HWB 411 I bind my heart this tide, v. 1

Since we observed All Saints/All Souls Day last year, and are doing it again this year, I guess that makes it a tradition.  It’s one that’s new to me, but one I hope we can continue.  Along with our lighting of candles for loved ones who have died, I’d like to use this Sunday each year to tell the story of one of our Anabaptist or Mennonite forbearers.

In thinking about this I realized, to my own shame, that I know very little about any historical Anabaptist female leaders.  I suppose my excuse is the fact that the most prominent leaders were men.  The early Anabaptists did elevate women to a greater place than they had been, but it was a far cry from an egalitarian or liberation movement for women.

So I emailed my friend Gerald Mast who teaches Communication at Bluffton University, who, coincidentally, was the speaker here the Sunday just before my first Sunday.  And Gerald quickly provided a list of Anabaptist women that will last us for many years to come.  He also noted that his favorite story is Anna Jansz of Rotterdam.  So that sounds like a good place to start.  A bonus here is that there are a number of connections with Revelation, so we aren’t leaving there yet, and you’ll notice that the Tree of Life is still looming.

My main sources, in case you’re wondering, are, of course, the Martyr’s Mirror, which, as you can tell, has a few other stories in it as well.  This wonderful book called Profiles of Anabaptist Women: Sixteenth Century Reforming Pioneers.  I’m also grateful to Gerald for an essay he recently wrote about Anna.  And another source, from which I will briefly quote, is…

Text: Revelation 21:9-27
Speaker: John Kampen

Revelation is a book of the bible that is not a natural reference point for those of us who consider ourselves liberal or progressive Christians. We normally don’t know what to do with the strange visions, the bizarre imagery, for us Mennonites the violent imagery. This is bizarre and confusing material that challenges the rational mind. We want to be able to say that this is not the basis for my belief, my theology, my ethic. We want to move as far away from it as possible. This is what both the Christian Church and the emerging rabbinic movement did in the first few centuries of the Common Era. We can compile an extensive list of non-canonical Jewish and Christian apocalypses from that period. However, only two of those books are found in our canon, Daniel and Revelation. They considered this literature to be as elusive as we do, hence not very reliable for questions of doctrine and practice, perhaps even dangerous.

Now I know that all of your difficulties with this book have already been resolved through the careful thoughtful sermons of Pastor Joel. Consider me to be the apocrypha to his Torah, the hidden wisdom.

This chapter in Revelation begins with the more well-known lines, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth . . . .” (21:1-2). Here we have the conclusion to the strife and the conflict that pervades the remainder of the book, its culminating vision. When we read this chapter we are reminded of sections of Isaiah such as Chapter 6:1: “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne high and lofty, and the hem of his robe filled the temple. . . . And one (of the seraphs) called to another and…

Texts: Genesis 2:4b-9, Revelation 21:22-22:7

It’s been observed that the Bible begins in a garden and ends in a city.  A garden, as in the Garden of Eden of Genesis, where the human creature is formed from the dust of the earth and receives the Divine breath of life.  And so the story begins.  And then at the end, a city, the New Jerusalem of Revelation, where humanity is restored and reconciled.

Some of us have had a similar garden-to-city trajectory in our own life, growing up in a rural area and now living here.  Columbus is a lovely city, but I dare say we have a ways to go before we reach the New Jerusalem.

One of the key connections between the beginning and the end, is this mysterious tree of life.  It shows up in the garden of Genesis, the garden that the humans lose access to after eating the fruit from that other tree.  Then the tree of life goes missing, only to resurface in the final book of the Christian Bible, Revelation.  And not just the final book, but the final chapter of the final book.  In the New Jerusalem, which has a river running through it, like Columbus, and many other cities, John says: “On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”  I’m not sure how the tree of life can be on either side of the river – mark that up to one more mystery of Revelation – but the water serves as no barrier to this tree.  It is perfectly accessible and continually fruitful.  The tree is there for healing.

The tree of life serves as bookends to the…

Texts: Revelation 5, 13

On Wednesday I walked home for lunch as I often do.  I went to the back of our yard to open the gate on the coop for our four chickens to roam around the larger fenced in area.  As I approached I noticed the loose soil and scattered feathers, a clear sign that a night invader had dug its way in and made a kill.  This was not the first time this has happened, and as I buried the remains of the chicken I asked the same kinds of questions I’ve asked before.  I wondered what kind of animal had done the killing.  I wondered if there’s even more we need to do to protect the chickens, or if this is just an inevitable thing that will happen from time to time.  I wondered if more protection for the chickens equated to a more prison-like existence for them.  I wondered if humans had never domesticated animals if this chicken, in its more wild incarnation, would have been safely roosting overnight up in a tree somewhere in southcentral Asia.  Or if it would have been fierce enough to at least ward off the predator, rather than the defenseless creature we’ve bred it to be.  Mostly, I was again confronted, in a graphic way, with what happens when a predator does its thing at the expense of its prey.

I wasn’t planning on bringing the chickens into this week’s sermon, but this unfortunate backyard farming incident feels like an appropriate lead in to one of the dominant themes of Revelation – the contrast between the Lamb and the Beast.

When John writes his pastoral letter / apocalyptic vision to seven churches in his region, he uses imagery from the animal world to speak about human realities.  For a modern day…

Texts: Revelation 1:1-3,9-16; 4:1-8; 19:6-10

There’s a great irony at the beginning of Revelation.  The first word of this book, the very first word, is the word we translate as “revelation.”  To reveal, to disclose, make known.  It begins, “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place; he made it known by sending his angel to his servant John.”  The irony is that what follows, this grand making known, this revelation, is one of the most confusing, confounding, convoluted, pieces of literature ever.

Or so it seems to us.

The very book that bears that name ‘revelation’ appears to us as anything but, and has proved most dangerous in the hands of those who believe they know exactly what it has revealed.

We need look no further than our own Anabaptist tradition to see what kind of religious fervor Revelation has inspired.  In the 1530’s, still the early days of the Protestant Reformation, the city of Munster in Northwest Germany was taken over by radical Anabaptists seeking to establish “The New Jerusalem” referenced in Revelation 21.  This initially included sharing their goods in common, like the early church, but led to tyrannical rule by several leaders and violent armed resistance against anyone who challenged them.  The Munsterite Anabaptists were soon crushed and their tortured bodies publicly displayed in cages.  The human remains are gone, but the cages still hang in the streets of Munster to this day.  Some of you have seen them.

Claas Epp was another Revelation-inspired Anabaptist, producing one of the most bizarre and tragic episodes of Mennonite history.  In 1870 when the Russian government no longer granted Mennonites special privileges, such as military exemption, many emigrated West to the US and Canada.  But Claas Epp cited Revelation chapter 3, which includes…