Once upon a time in a faraway country, there lived a people whose lives were filled with joy. There was a good reason for that. While most people argue at least some of the time, these people never argued! They listened to one another. They were considerate of one another. They helped one another. And their city was beautiful. It was landscaped with flowers that bloomed in every season – snowdrops in the winter, tulips and daffodils in the spring, daylilies and zinnias and marigolds in the summer, and mums in the fall. All the businesses were well maintained; and all the homes were inviting. Better still, everyone was welcome there! It was a place that you entered as a visitor, but left as a friend.
But one day, the people of that city decided that something
was missing. They decided that the folks in a neighboring city had a nicer
church than they did. Specifically, the church in the next city had a higher
steeple than theirs. Now, to be sure, their church was beautiful. It had
stained glass windows that celebrated their heritage, a large kitchen where
delicious meals could be prepared, and a brand new playground for any child who
wanted to use it. But… that steeple was so puny! Something had to be done. And so, they started to build a new steeple. With every
day of work, they looked forward to the day when their steeple would be higher than the steeple over there. As the steeple rose higher, so did the noses of the
people who were building it. They started to compare themselves with the folks
over in that city; and, of course,
that other city always came out second best. The people over there weren’t as friendly as they were. The people over there weren’t as clean as they
were. The people over there… well, they just weren’t as good. One
thing led to another, and pretty soon the religion of the people over there didn’t seem to be very good,
either. Folks started to say that when their
steeple was finished, it would rise all the way to heaven itself. They would have
a direct line to God, because they
deserved it.
One day, when the steeple was rising into the sky at a
pretty good clip, God looked down into that beautiful city; and God didn’t like
what he saw. Where friendship and hospitality and help had once flourished, now
there was only pride and competition and suspicion. God was not at all pleased.
God decided that this had to stop. And so, the next morning when the workers
came to work on the steeple, a remarkable thing had happened. Overnight, their
ability to understand each other had disappeared. “Boker tov,” said Moishe to
Andre; and Andre wondered why Moishe hadn’t said, “Good morning,” like he did
every other day. “Bonjour,” replied Andre; and Moishe wondered the very same
thing. When Hans gave Sergei a hammer and Sergei replied, “Spasibo,” Hans was
insulted. He had no idea that Sergei had just said “Thank you.” When Hans asked,
“Was ist das?” Sergei was insulted, too. A frosty silence settled over the
worksite as the men glared suspiciously at one another. And things really blew
apart when Luca tried to encourage everyone to get going by saying happily,
“Andiamo! Andiamo!” Tempers flared, insults were thrown back and forth – and so
were a few monkey wrenches. Because nobody could understand anybody else, everyone
thought that they were the butt of a joke that everybody else was in on.
That steeple never did get finished. And it didn’t take very
long for the city to fall apart, as well. Andre and his family moved over here, Sergei and his family moved over there, and Luca’s family moved
completely out of the area. That beautiful, welcoming city was left in ruins
with the steeple only half built. By the way, the name of that city was “Babel,”
and the book of Genesis calls that steeple a “tower.” Now, I doubt if things
happened in Babel quite the way that I’ve told the story this morning; but one
thing about the story is the same. Ever since the time of Babel, we humans have
misunderstood each other. And because we misunderstand one another, we are suspicious
of each other, we exclude one another, and we keep pretty much to ourselves.
After all, that guy over there might
have an ulterior motive. There’s no sense in helping him! The legacy of the tower persists to this day.
But Pentecost started to change all that. We didn’t read the
Pentecost story out of the book of Acts today; but I’ll bet that you know it
anyway. On Pentecost, the Spirit of God moved through the group of Jesus’
disciples like a mighty wind, and the fire of the Spirit gave them the ability
to communicate with folks who didn’t speak their language! On Pentecost, Moishe
could suddenly understand Andre again; and Sergei could understand Hans; and
when Luca shouted, “Andiamo,” everybody understood that he was saying, “Come on,
guys! It’s time to get a move on!” On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit of God
began to reverse the tragedy of Babel. The message of God’s love in Jesus Christ
was no longer confined to a few men and women in a back-water area of Galilee
in the tiny country of Israel. No, beginning with Pentecost, folks from all
around the world understood what Jesus’ disciples were saying. The gospel
message spread like ripples in a pond, and expanded outward until it reached every
corner of the world.
That story isn’t over yet. We still aren’t one family, the way that God intends it to be. We still don’t communicate with one another very well, even with cell phones and the internet and the ability to see each other on Skype from anywhere in the world. We still don’t understand one another. We’re still suspicious of one another, we still exclude one another, and we still keep pretty much to ourselves. But all that is going to change one day!
This morning’s reading from Revelation (21:9-14, 22-27;
22:1-5) describes that day. It shows us the New Jerusalem, the Holy City, coming
down from heaven, ready for all the saints to live there in peace and harmony.
It’s the most beautiful city that anyone can imagine! The author of Revelation
describes it as having walls that look like precious stones, and streets that
are paved with gold. A river with the Water of Life is flowing right down
Broadway; and the big tree in the town square is the Tree of Life. That tree
heals anyone who eats its fruit, and it reconciles all the folks who sit
together in its shade. There won’t be any more pain; any more sorrow; or any
more suffering In the New Jerusalem. The curse of Babel will be reversed once
and for all. Suspicion and misunderstanding and exclusion will be a thing of
the past. The blessing of Pentecost will be complete as everyone lives together
in harmony. And anybody who wants to live there will be welcome! How will it
happen; and when will it happen? I don’t have a clue! But I’m convinced it will happen one day, and that time
itself will end in peace and joy. After all, that’s the end of the great vision
of Revelation. God’s kingdom will be complete, and God will live right in the
middle of his people. We’ll all be together at last – you and me and all those
people we have ever loved – together with God.
May that day come soon! Come, Lord Jesus!
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