SERMON PREACHED BY FR. TONY NOBLE ON NOVEMBER 2nd, 2008
Revelation 7: 9 “After this I looked and behold, a great multitude which no man could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands.”
What is heaven like?
The New Testament contains various images. Jesus spoke often of heaven as a banquet, and as a wedding banquet. He also spoke about separating sheep from goats when it comes time for the end. And in the parable of the rich man and the poor man, Lazarus, he indicated there was a great gulf between heaven and the other place.
Today’s readings on this festival of all the saints in heaven have none of these images. The first reading from the book of Revelation has numerous chapters describing heaven in some amazing images. Rev 7:9 sums it up very nicely: “A great multitude impossible to count”. And what they are doing is worshipping the Lamb enthroned. It seems almost too poetic, too fantastic to believe.
I don’t know about you – but I don’t want to spend eternity standing in a white robe holding a palm branch!
It is of course an image. This image of heavenly worship begins in chapter 4 of the book of Revelation, where Saint John the Divine says this: “After this I looked, and lo, in heaven an open door!”. There through that open door Saint John the Divine sees one seated on the throne who looks unreal, and the Lamb who symbolises the resurrected Christ. Around this throne there are 24 elders wearing crowns and the famous four living creatures.
What are all these people doing? They are singing a song: “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts”. It’s familiar isn’t it? We sing it at the heart of the Eucharist Sunday by Sunday. “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus” they sing – from which we get the words “Sanctuary”, “Sanctify” and “Saint”.
You see when John came to describe heaven, he chose the nearest thing to heaven and earth – and that was the celebration of the Eucharist. So at the heart of heaven all this assembled company are singing the same song that we sing at every Eucharist: “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of thy glory”.
In describing heaven as worship of God by the saints, St John looked no further than the weekly gathering of the first Christians to celebrate the Eucharist. That is what he is describing – for in the first centuries when they came to celebrate the Eucharist, the architecture was just as Saint John described – the bishop usually sat on a throne with an altar forward and flanked in a circle were the deacons and priests. This is the image for the 24 elders who are seated around the throne.
If you go to many of the ancient basilicas in the Mediterranean area, particularly in Italy, you will see basilicas with their curved sanctuary and the seats around the throne.
And what about the four living creatures? These are four great creatures symbolizing the four Gospels. The lion symbolizes Saint Mark, the Ox symbolizes Saint Luke, the Man symbolizes Saint Matthew, and the Eagle symbolizes Saint John the Evangelist.
So when Saint John the Divine portrays these four living creatures as part of the worship, he is giving an image of the proclaiming and reading of the Gospel – the highlight of the first part of our Eucharist. That is the sense in which we understand the four living creatures in this great worship in heaven. So we have the reading of the Gospel, together with the singing of the Sanctus, which is the heart of the Eucharist – a refrain we still sing 2,000 years later.
If you continue to read Revelation, you will come to a part where he also describes incense being burnt and offered. Saint John refers to this as the prayers of the saints rising up to heaven. Indeed it could be said that heaven is one continuous Anglo-Catholic High Mass. Now that would be something I would be prepared to stand around in a white robe for!
This image of Heaven contains two essential truths. Firstly, at every Eucharist whether it’s now in San Diego, or the first century in Rome – we stand at the door of heaven – an open door – and at the Sanctus we are there with the angels and saints sharing in their heavenly worship. We are carried beyond this building.
Secondly, just as at every Eucharist we gather with our friends, so in heaven we have friends – the saints of God. People not unlike us. What the Apostles Creed refers to as “The Communion of Saints”, and we have communion with them particularly when we meet to celebrate the Eucharist.
We know some of these saints by name – they have days set aside in the Church’s calendar. Many of us have been baptised with the name of a saint. Today, on our festival we honour all the saints – those that we know, but mostly those who are unknown. All the saints in every age, and in every generation.
That’s where the people in white robes holding palms comes in. The palms are the ancient symbol of martyrs – those who gave up their lives as Christian – and the white robes symbolize holiness and goodness.
In Revelation it says that the martyrs have washed their robes white in the blood of the Lamb. This refers to the fact that their deaths were a participation in Christ’s death. That by their death they somehow shared in Christ’s death. But it is more than a participation. They died for their faithful witnessing to Christ – indeed, the word “martyr” comes from a Greek word meaning “witness”.
In the early Church these martyrs were often thrown to the lions, or in the time of Nero, burned on crosses in his garden as entertainment. They are a large number, many of them unknown by name. That is how this day in the calendar came to be started – as a commemoration of all those early martyrs. Indeed to be a saint was to be a martyr.
All this came home to me back at the end of July, when I was in Rome on my way to Sicily. I spent three days in Rome, and there is a church literally on every corner. Each day as I walked around that great city, I delighted in going in and out of the various churches, many of them dedicated to saints I had never heard of – saints from the first couple of centuries of the Roman Church, who probably suffered in the persecutions.
Sometimes a note would tell me that the Church was actually on the site where they were killed, or it was on the site of their home in the second century, or it was the place where the Christians met for the Eucharist in those days of persecution. It was if I was there with them all those centuries ago. Their presence was tangible, and their example led me to my knees and pray.
Then on my last day I came across an amazing saint who I had never heard of.
In the shadow of the great basilica of Saint Mary Major, there is a church dedicated to Saint Pudentia. It is below street level, with an underground crypt – you have to go down a few levels, because it’s from the street level of the first century. Here in the first century lived a Roman Senator “Pudens” who allowed Saint Peter to stay with him. You can find a reference to Pudens in the very last line of the second letter of Saint Paul to Timothy, where he sends greetings to a number of people – including to this Roman Senator, Pudens. We don’t know if he was actually a baptised Christian, all we know is that he gave safe lodging to Saint Peter.
The following century, some baths were erected over the home of Pudens, and in the fourth century (after Christianity was no longer persecuted) a church was erected on the site and called “Ecclesia Pudentia” – literally “The church of Pudens”.
The church of Pudens marked the place where the Roman Senator had given lodging to Saint Peter. But if you know your Latin, you will know that “Pudentia” can also be seen as feminine – and some centuries later an early feminist (probably an Episcopalian!) assumed that Pudentia must have been a woman – and so become Saint Pudentia. She appeared in the calendar complete with a holy life. And not only that – she had a sister called Saint Prassede. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Saint Prassede’s Church is just two blocks from Saint Pudentia’s Church!
Thus by a linguistic accident the Church produced an imaginary saint. Fortunately in 1969, when the Roman Calendar was revised, Saint Pudentia was removed along with Saint Christopher, Saint Catherine of Alexandria, and a few other notables. As I stood there in Saint Prudentia’s Church, looking at this mosaic of Saint Pudentia along with her sister, Prassede, it occurred to me that even if she was imaginary – an accident of history – never-the-less Pudens, the Roman Senator, is indeed a worthy saint. For in extending hospitality and providing lodging to Saint Peter, he was indeed providing hospitality for Christ.
If we provide in our lives hospitality for Jesus, then we also are worthy to stand with Pudens and be called a saint of God. We are worthy even be changed from Pudens to Saint Pudentia – for such is the vocation of all who welcome Christ into their hearts.
This process begins here – as it did for the first martyrs and the early Christians – when we come together for the Eucharist. When we come to join as they did in singing: “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of thy glory”.
And as we come here, to the Altar, we will see a door opened in heaven.