The Vision Thing
Preacher: Revd Dr Donald MacEwan, University Chaplain
Readings: Deuteronomy 34:1-12; Revelation 21:10, 22 – 22:5
It will become clearer in a while why I chose the title The Vision Thing. But as I was preparing during the week, I realised another possible title would have been A Sight of Two Cities.
The first sight of a city was granted to Moses. His life began in a river, pushed out on the Nile in a basket, slightly more risky than Rory’s early days I hope. No kayaking on the Kinnessburn as a baby for him. But from there, Moses spent his life climbing mountains. He encountered God in the burning bush on Mount Horeb. He climbed Mount Sinai time after time, receiving the Ten Commandments. He ascended a mountain called Hor where his brother Aaron died. And now, in the story we heard earlier, he made one final ascent, up Mount Nebo, where he looked north, south and west over the land promised to his ancestors, and down to the city below in the plain, the city of Jericho. And there, we are told, he died.
About 14 years ago, I too went up that mountain which is in present-day Jordan, and saw that view, north, west and south, looking down on the city of Jericho. It was a hazy city of low-rise houses and dark green trees. We can’t help but be aware that these lands, promised in scripture to Abraham and his descendants, are at the heart of the deep conflict between the government of Israel and the Palestinians, which we see today in acts of terrorism, and appalling suffering in Gaza.
I don’t want to focus today on the specifics of what God promised then, but on the character of God who gave Moses this vision. We are told that Moses, when he ascended Mount Nebo, was 120 years old, the limit of earthly life, but that his vision was unimpaired. It says he could see the Western Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, some 91 miles away; I couldn’t see that far, in 2010. Ask anyone even half Moses’ age today what their sight is like and they’ll take off their glasses to think about it. Our physical sight is often impaired; and our sight in other ways is hampered too. How we see the world. How we see ourselves. Our vision of the good life. Our vision of the right path. The heart of Moses’ vision, however, was not so much his unimpaired eyesight but his trust in the perfect vision of God. He had seen God face to face, and trusted in God’s promise, and then died, we are told, in the sight of Israel.
This is the final Sunday service of the Candlemas Semester. Exams are over, there are very few assignments outstanding for undergraduate students. You have reached the mountain-top of this semester, this academic year, perhaps of your whole degree and time in St Andrews. Congratulations! You have taken the path from 1000 feet (or 1000 level courses) to 4000 feet (yes, 4000 level courses). You have negotiated the gentle slopes of first year, kneeling to drink from the stream of Raisin and May Dip. You have perhaps crossed the tree-line into honours. You may have consulted map and compass to navigate the terrain of friendship and love. You may have scrambled up the steep slopes of research essays, and teetered on the high ridge of a dissertation, before reaching the summit of your final exam when the heavens opened, or your friends poured water over you on the East Sands.
And, on this mountain-top, what is your vision?
For some, a summer completing your Masters dissertation alongside a phalanx of visiting golfers and people disgorged from bus tours with orange lanyards. For many, a return to St Andrews for your next year. Or for others who are leaving, you see the next peak not so far off – a job, a new course of studies, some time at home to restore your strength.
And for everyone, if we raise our eyes to the world around us from our summit, we see a treacherous onward path – the volatility of our world from the Middle East to eastern Europe. The deepening reality of climate change, a hotter world, with rainfall unpredictable. Increasing uncertainty for vulnerable communities, from people seeking refuge, to transgender people, and many many others. At a gathering last week of University Chaplains from across Scotland one chaplain said that while she understood that God was good and faithful, and so we are called in tough times to wait for his love and mercy to be revealed, she said how hard it is to wait when there is little prospect of good times to return.
And so the future is unclear, for the world and ourselves, even for little Rory: our sight is impaired. So let’s return to the Bible for a sight of our second city from another mountain-top. This is from the Book of Revelation, the final book in the Bible. It is a vision granted to someone called John who was on an island called Patmos. Unlike Moses, he did not climb an actual mountain. But this faithful Christian was open to God’s Spirit, and in the spirit, we read, he was carried to a great high mountain and was showed a vision of a city, “the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God.” It was a vision of the world’s destiny, our end and our goal – God’s vision of what creation will become. What is that vision?
For one thing it’s beautiful, lit entirely by God’s light, a loving light.
It’s a place of diversity: nations and kings will be drawn to it, from different cultures. Its gates are open.
All that spoils life – from lies to suffering – will be banished.
The images flow. There will be a refreshing river, not like the trickle of the Kinnessburn in recent days, after 38 days without rain in St Andrews till Friday night. With more than a hint of Eden, the original Paradise, this river flows with the water of life, by the tree of life. And this tree is full of leaves and fruit, fruit throughout the whole year, and leaves for the healing of the nations. What a beautiful image for our time, when healing is needed so much. The picture on the order of service is of trees planted as symbols of peace, near the Kinnessburn. And the sign beside them quotes this very verse: “its leaves are for the healing of the nations.”
And our sight will be perfect there: we will see the face of God, as God knew Moses face to face. Our sight unimpaired.
Now, you know and I know that this is not a documentary but a vision, a nearly 2000-year old vision. And we know the reality of our lives is of darkness as well as light, polluted rivers as well as crystalline seas, closed borders as well as open doors, hunger as well as healing. But faith is about catching a vision and being inspired by it, drawn towards its beauty and its goodness, leading us on towards it. NT Wright, who was a Professor in our School of Divinity here, wrote that this vision of the new Jerusalem is ”in a sense a project, not a tableau.” In other words, we don’t just gaze on this gorgeous vista, we do what we can to help it become a reality. We make a difference in our lives and in our world, with and alongside the love and faithfulness of God. We are open to others, to the nations, fostering a community where all are welcome. We do what we can to banish lies and suffering. We endeavour to live fruitful lives. We give time, skill and love for healing, from a flatmate’s sorrow to an international conflict.
A Sight of Two Cities, or The Vision Thing. Before most students were born the USA elected the first of two men called George Bush as President, George HW Bush, who succeeded Ronald Reagan, and missed out on a second term when he lost to Bill Clinton. He referred in an interview once to the issue of a politician’s overarching purpose as “the vision thing”. The phrase stuck, mainly because people thought that Bush lacked vision, lacked a compelling, persuasive vision that inspires and draws people forward.
As we reach the end of this semester and year, you may too be wondering about the vision thing, unsure of a compelling, persuasive vision to inspire your own life or future, or country or world. You may feel this mountain-top is shrouded in mist. But could I suggest that the vision is there for all, that God is drawing us towards a wonderful future, of plenty and of peace: a city which is a garden, of refreshing water, of life-giving trees, of fruitfulness and healing, of love and welcome, of diversity and joy. It’s not a tableau but a project, shared by the loving God and all who long to see such a world flourish. It’s the source of our hope, and the vision to sustain our action, even when our sight is impaired. From a child as young as Rory Christopher Mann to a brand new graduate embarking on a career to those approaching the age of Moses, it’s a vision worth following, compelling, persuasive, drawing us forward into life.
END