This week, an article in Sojourners magazine by JR Forasteros discussed how multiverse stories are becoming more and more popular. The multiverse is the scientific theory that anytime we are faced with a choice, two universes are created, one where each choice manifests. So, for example, thirty years ago I was sitting on the patio at Loch Leven and made the decision to go into ministry; but right now, there is an alternative universe, in which I’m living a very different life because I didn’t make that decision.
Or so the theory goes.
The Sojourners article suggests that multiverse stories are popular right now because things are so bad, what with the pandemic, and the refugee crisis, and a culture war centered on how we teach about racism in school, and the Supreme Court set to overturn Roe v. Wade, and so many Christians who should be practicing love choosing instead to support policies and positions that harm those Jesus calls our neighbors.
It all makes the idea of an alternative universe, where things are different, tempting. We’re not happy with the way this universe is going, the way things are unraveling. This is a dark timeline, perhaps the darkest timeline. But wouldn’t it be cool if there was an alternative universe to which we can escape?
As the article says, “it’s tempting to pine for somewhere else, to relitigate old arguments, to remake old choices. To disconnect from the pain of our reality and get lost in the fantasy of better universes. One where the poor, the meek, and the peacemakers are blessed.”
Throughout history, many Christians have read the scriptures, looking for that alternative universe, and finding it in biblical descriptions of heaven. In heaven, everything is wonderful and perfect and eternal, in contrast to this present world which is fleeting, temporary, and so very flawed.
And in many churches, the sermons you’ll hear are all about placing your hope in heaven, in the life to come. It’s “heaven” as an alternative universe, where none of our current struggles exist.
However, that’s not the type of heaven you find in scripture.
In the Hebrew Bible (what we call the Old Testament), the prophets often described their vision of a different world, which was really God’s vision of a different world; but it wasn’t so much an “alternative universe” type of world; it was a vision of how this present world could be and can be once people start living according to God’s teachings.
It’s a world where justice flows down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.
It’s a world where people can sit in the fields they planted, and enjoy the literal fruits of their own labor.
It’s a world in which widows and orphans and the poor are taken care of.
It’s a world in which weapons of war are melted down and turned into tools of agriculture.
It’s not an otherworldly hope, but a this-worldly hope. It’s not an alternative universe; it’s how this present universe can and should be.
Jesus continues and expands on that vision. The gospels talk about the kingdom of God, or the kingdom of heaven, but even here, it is a kingdom that is very much centered in this world.
For his followers, they expected a new, reigning king to take over from Herod and Caesar as their ruler, to rule with justice and uphold God’s ways. That didn’t exactly happen, but Jesus did tell his followers that the kingdom he talked about was present among them. The kingdom was present in their very midst.
Now, there is an after-life aspect, an eternal aspect, to this kingdom. But most of the time, when this kingdom is mentioned, it’s in reference to a reality that is possible and is, in very real ways, present - not in some alternative universe, but in this universe that we know and are a part of.
Which means that true Christian hope isn’t focused exclusively or even primarily on some afterlife, some alternative form of existence, but on this present life and this present universe.
And this, in turn, means that any hope we have must be grounded in reality. Hope is not wishful thinking. Hope is not dreaming of a fairy godmother, or an against-all-odds lottery jackpot. And hope does not ignore the troubles and injustices and sorrow and suffering that exist.
Hope acknowledges that not everything is as it should be. Hope knows that we live in a world where too many go to bed hungry at night; too many live in poverty; too many lack health care; too many cannot find employment that pays a living wage.
Hope knows that racism has shaped our country’s history, and that white supremacy continues to shape our country today. Hope is painfully aware of every act of violence and every mass shooting.
As I said a few weeks ago, hope often begins with lament. Often, hope must begin with lament. Remember that quote from Cole Arthur Riley: “Our hope can only be as deep as our lament is. And our lament [can only be] as deep as our hope.”
Our scripture reading for today, from Hebrews 10: it doesn’t appear in the lectionary for today. I’m using the scriptures and themes suggested for the “Imagine” sermon series, instead of the lectionary readings.
But this reading from Hebrews 10 does appear in the lectionary on Good Friday.
On Good Friday.
Because “our hope can only be as deep as our lament is. And our lament [can only be] as deep as our hope.”
Our Christian hope doesn’t begin in some alternative universe. Hope begins here, in the midst of tragedy and despair. Hope begins at Good Friday. Hope begins in the tears shed over all the injustices and oppression and violence of our world.
Hope cries with us. But then, Hope says to us, “it doesn’t have to be like this.”
This week, I attended the Festival of Homiletics, an annual conference for pastors and preachers. This was the first time since 2019 that people could attend the Festival in-person, but they have kept the online, livestream format as well, so I spent several days at my uncle’s wifi-equipped cabin near Lake Arrowhead listening to lectures and sermons.
One of the speakers and preachers was Otis Moss III.
At the Festival of Homiletics, Otis Moss told a story about when he first started as pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. A member of that congregation named Barack Obama was running for president, and because of the ugliness of this present world, Otis Moss started receiving death threats, both at home and at church.
Otis Moss said that he was living in fear. He slept with a baseball bat beside his bed.
Sure enough, one night, at about three o-clock in the morning, he heard a noise. He grabbed his baseball bat, started walking through the dark house. He determined that the noise was coming from his daughter’s bedroom. He went up to her room, opened the door… and saw his little daughter dancing in circles. “Daddy, I'm dancing!” she said.
He said to her: “It’s 3 a.m., go to…” but he didn’t finish that sentence.
He said: in that moment, he realized that there was darkness all around, ugliness all around - but, he said, it was not in her.
That’s when he realized that hope learns to dance in the dark. Hope doesn’t long for an alternative universe where there is no darkness; hope learns to dance in the dark.
So that’s what we’re doing. Together, we’re learning to dance in the dark.
And one way we do that is by gathering together for worship. Hebrews says “do not neglect to gather together.” We gather together, because we need each other, to dance together, to sing together, even in the midst of the world’s ugliness and darkness.
And together, we mourn and lament that this world is a long way from where it should be; but we also celebrate the ways in which love and beauty are present in the world, right now… And we celebrate that, every day, WE have the opportunity to bring a little more love and beauty into the world, by loving our neighbor just a little more or a little better than we did yesterday, and working to bring just a little more justice into the world.
We do this on our own, and we do it together. As a congregation.
And our congregation joins with other congregations, here in Long Beach, and with Disciples congregations scattered throughout the United States and Canada. Through Week of Compassion and Global Ministries and so many other ministries that we are a part of, we bring beauty and love to some of the darkest places in the world. We bring hope to what would otherwise be hopeless places, letting people know that this darkness isn’t how things are supposed to be, and that we CAN make this world better, if we all work together.
At Festival of Homiletics: a lot of the speakers talked about the problems and challenges of the world. The brokenness. The sin. The lack of love for our neighbors. The shooting in Buffalo from the week before was mentioned by many of the speakers.
And there was lament.
But the speakers also talked about how God has placed the Spirit within us; how God has placed hope within us; and how we - each one of us - can bring healing and wholeness to the world.
Maybe not the whole world - not by ourselves. But to our own little corner of the world.
And if we all do that, then the whole world will be changed.
Because together, we are a movement for wholeness in this fragmented world; and together, we are able to imagine a world - this world - with more hope.
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