Turning Over A New Leaf

Revelation 21:10, 22:1-5

In the first few chapters of the Bible, we discover part of God’s plan for humanity. Abel keeps flocks, Cain works the soil and builds a city. A few generations later, Jabal becomes the father of herders and Jubal the first musician. The rich cultures on this wonderful planet are one of the most delightful and enthralling aspects of humanity. Quickly these cultures became nations, and the grand story of the proliferation of peoples has also inevitably led to war.

We don't want to fight but by Jingo if we do

We've got the ships, we've got the men, 

we've got the money too

We've fought the Bear before, 

and while we're Britons true

The Russians shall not have Constantinople!

Sung in the pubs of Britain during the Russo-Turkish war in the late 1800s, this song contained a minced oath, “By jingo.” A minced oath replaces a taboo phrase with another—something like saying “heck” instead of “hell.” This song gave birth to the phrase jingoism, which refers to excessive nationalism with a propensity to use violence and other extreme measures of coercion in order to favor the more powerful nation. It is also noted by a disproportionate positive view of everything that represents one’s country. In our country, this took the form of Manifest Destiny, believing any means necessary was acceptable to extend from sea to shining sea. Perhaps today North Korea is the clearest example—who has turned their propaganda machine into an art form.

In fact, the bulk of the Bible in certain ways is a historic account of nations and empires using their deep-seated beliefs of superiority to subjugate Israel based on the will of the deity they happened to worship. There are also clear accounts of holding Israel responsible. This is true of Christians as well. It turns out “by jingo” is a minced oath for “by Jesus.” Christians many times in history have validated aggressive wars in tragic irony by the name of the one known as the Prince of Peace.

“Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?” Psalm 2

It is a source of severe frustration and anger for God to see the divine intentions twisted into protectionism and a warped sense of superiority. Tragically, according to the Geneva Academy, there are 110 armed conflicts around the planet today.

With the distortion of the gift of nations, it seems that God’s plan would be to eliminate any such thing in heaven. I must admit the thought saddens me. My love for nations and their cultures was passed on by my parents from the very beginning.

In fact, I just discovered the full depths of my father’s passion to meet new peoples. Last week after my sermon, my mother called and told me, “Your father met the Guarani people.”

Long before De Niro did it in the movie The Mission, in 1960 my father scaled the Iguacu Falls by himself and convinced one of the Guarani people to take him on a boat so he could get a perfect view of the falls from above!

Whether he was doing Irish step dance, listening to the Pakistani Qawwali singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, or reading One Hundred Years of Solitude by the Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez, he found tremendous joy in different languages, different geographies, and different peoples.

From my mother it comes through in her decorating and her cooking. In fact, for Wendy and my rehearsal dinner, we had a progressive meal of sorts through the different rooms of her house. In the Brazil room, a black bean dish known as feijoada; cheese fondue in the European library; various Asian cuisines in the Indonesian living room; and clotted cream, scones, and tea cakes in the Westminster dining room. Because of this wonderful country of ours, right here we have a cornucopia of cultures!

As Wendy and I have forged a life together, exploring the local cuisine and culture has been our passion. Whether it was loaded baked potato soup in Idaho, BBQ in Alabama, Low Country Boil in South Carolina, or homemade pastrami here in New York, these dishes literally gave us a taste. The regional accents, dress, and local idioms make every town special. It has been thrilling to see how all God’s people create a unique and wonderful life in this country.

And then, of course, the historic spots around this planet—Petra in Jordan, Bodleian Library in Oxford, Tulum in Mexico, Ipanema Beach, the Pão de Açúcar, and the Corcovado in Rio—have given me a glimpse of the gift of nations which has immeasurably enriched this planet.

But unity and healing, Revelation tells us, requires God making all things new. Which may mean leaving behind the wonderful cultures humanity has created, perhaps for a greater good. And yet this final vision of history has a surprising message. For the Christian view of the afterlife has a particular character not shared by other world religions, for example, Buddhism.

The Buddhist strives for an absolute release from want and desire leading to Nirvana, in which the individual becomes something like a drop of water finding its home back in the ocean. Certain attachments—even the attachment to your own personhood—are part of the process of escaping Samsara, the wheel of woe.

In the Christian vision, rather than returning to a collective of sorts, the uniqueness and personhood of the individual continues. But it’s not only people that continue. An intriguing phrase, seemingly without much consequence, caught my attention in our reading: “…and the leaves of the tree [of life] are for the healing of the nations.”

The end of history is not the obliteration of distinct identities, but their perfection. This makes heaven a much more interesting place.

This was promised in the Old Testament, “All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations shall worship before you.” Psalm 22:27–28

The promise to make all things new does not mean what it appears. Rather than the Greek word neos, the author uses kainos. Kainos is not newness from nothing, but renewal and perfection.

This comes through the Tree of Life. John tells us it produces twelve different types of fruit, one each month—the celestial version of the fruit-of-the-month club. With perpetual variety and nourishment, the nations will “turn over a new leaf.” Isaiah’s prophecy so many thousands of years before is fulfilled, “…and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Isaiah 2

But continue they shall, at least in the form of their distinctive cultures and gifts to humanity. They will no longer compete for resources, will no longer see one another as the enemy or inferior; they will celebrate and rejoice in their own uniqueness while being enriched by others.

I’ve begun to make my list of what I would love to perfect during my time, God willing, in heaven: the pleasure of reading lovely Chinese calligraphy, listening to transcendent European music, speaking the exquisite language of Portuguese while feasting on spicy Ethiopian cuisine.

The more I learn of the history and traditions of other peoples, the more I am amazed at God and deeply saddened at how tragically we have turned this gift into war. Yet I am confident, and I trust and believe in these words of Revelation, that the leaves of the Tree of Life will heal the nations. Amen.