Living Dreams [All Saints' Sunday B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Isaiah 25:6-9 & Revelation 21:1-6a
Living Dreams
Time, like an ever-rolling
stream, bears all our years away; they fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the
opening day.
But what if they don’t? What if dreams never die? What if they ride the ever-rolling stream of
time, passed down through the ages like the most precious of family
heirlooms?
Today, on this All
Saints’ Sunday, we look to the heavens and we marvel at those who blind our
eyes with their dazzling halos; they stand before us like guiding stars leading
us to the crèche of Christ but at a seemingly impossible distance. We hang them in the sky, light years above
our human toil. Untouchable. Beyond reach.
Imagining they possess, like comic book heroes, supernatural abilities
with which we are simply not blessed.
But in truth the only
thing that separates the saints of old from us, besides the veil of eternity,
is the stunning vibrancy of their dreams.
They believed, deep down in their bones, that their dreams would come
true. Some of the saints even staked
their lives on it. Not the dreams of
lottery balls or royal thrones, but the dreams of heaven, those impossible
dreams that clash hard against the drone of injustice and the grind of despair.
Today we remember Isaiah
because he dreamed dreams, impossible dreams that clashed hard against the drone
of injustice and the grind of despair.
He dreamed of the feast in the midst of famine. Surrounded by enemies, a city under siege, fading
slowly from existence, starving to death.
And the prophet is bold enough to make them salivate for the food of the
future. He invites his people to a
party, one rich with succulent foods and well-aged wines, one prepared by God
in a season of scarcity.
And as the bodies of
the dead piled up in the streets, Isaiah dreamed of another feast, a divine
feast, scheduled for the fullness of time.
On the day of that feast, the prophet promised that God would swallow
death whole and drink their sorrowful tears until there were no more tears to
drink, until every crying eye was dry.
To a people dying, he promised no more death; to a people in despair, he
promised no more tears.
It was a defiant
dream. It probably sounded foolish to
those who were too realistic to hope for better days. But Isaiah believed, deep down in his bones, that
his dream, the dream that heaven inspired, would come true. And while he died long ago, his dream never
died. It was passed down through the
ages…
…to John. Today we remember John because he dreamed
dreams, impossible dreams that clashed hard against the drone of injustice and
the grind of despair. Writing to a
persecuted Church from his island prison, John dreamed of all things made new. With just a pen and some hope, he took on the
most powerful Empire of his world. He
pledged his allegiance to a Lord not called Caesar; instead he gave his life
for a man crucified by Caesar, a man who carried in his resurrected body the
proof that John’s dreams of new life could come true.
In his Easter vision, he
dreamed of a Jerusalem that could not be destroyed by an occupying army. Where the stones of the Temple had been
toppled, there would sit the throne of God.
The crosses that lined the Roman streets would turn to dust in the presence
of the Risen Christ. A Church that was
suffering and mourning their dead, would never again shed a tear of
sadness. Because the God of Life was
making all things new. And though his
readers had been cast down by the violent forces of this world, God was, even
in their moment of tribulation, raising them up.
It was a defiant
dream. It probably sounded foolish to
those who had had their dreams trampled by the imperial forces. But John, that imprisoned visionary, believed,
deep down in his bones, that his dreams, the dreams that heaven inspired, would
come true. And while he died long ago,
his dream never died. It was passed down
through the ages…
…to Dame Julian of
Norwich. Today we remember Julian
because she dreamed dreams, impossible dreams that clashed hard against the drone
of injustice and the grind of despair. As
the carts carried the bodies of the dead past her cell, she heard the voice of
God whisper, “All shall be well.” And
she repeated those words into the plague-ravaged world.
Because she dreamed of
a love powerful enough to rescue a world drowning in an ocean of despair. She carried the eternal Easter miracle in her
heart, even as she rested in the tender heart of her loving God.
It was a defiant
dream. It probably sounded foolish to
those just struggling to survive the harsh world. But Julian, a woman who gazed upon eternity
from her tiny room, believed, deep down in her bones, that her dreams, the
dreams that heaven inspired, would come true.
And while she died long ago, her dream never died. It was passed down through the ages…
…to Martin Luther
King, Jr. Today we remember Martin
because he dreamed dreams, impossible dreams that clashed hard against the drone
of injustice and the grind of despair. As
threats of violence and murder swirled around him, this Baptist pastor refused
to be silent in the face of racism and prejudice. Though the evidence was scarce and the stakes
high, Martin continued to believe that only love can drive out hate.
And so he marched on,
an uphill climb, leading those bold enough to follow a dream toward a promised
land of justice and peace, a promised land in which he knew he would never step
foot. And he did so because he believed
that love could make dreams come true, that love could actually change the
world, that love was much more powerful than the hatred that threatens this
land. And that is why he said, “[Love] is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love.
There’s something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something
about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies.”[1] He dreamed of redemption, of a world of
justice, of a human family bound together by love.
It was a defiant
dream. It probably sounded foolish to
those who knew the weight of oppression and it infuriated those who considered
his dream of racial and economic justice to be a nightmare. But Martin, believed, deep down in his bones,
that his dreams, the dreams that heaven inspired, would come true. And while he died years ago, his dream never
died. It was passed down through the
ages…
…to us. And so now it is up to us to be the saints of
this contentious age. It is up to us to dream
dreams, impossible dreams that clash hard against the drone of injustice and
the grind of despair. It is up to us go into the world, into our community,
into our neighborhoods, and to make those dreams, those dreams that heaven
inspired, come true. It is up to us to dream
the dreams of the saints, and to keep the dreams of the saints alive. It is up to us to pass them down through the
ages like the most precious of family heirlooms.
[1] https://parade.com/252644/viannguyen/15-of-martin-luther-king-jr-s-most-inspiring-motivational-quotes/
Comments
Post a Comment