to return to your place in the text.To read endnotes, click on the the note number, then click on the
For Christians, of course, time travel back to the first
century would be particularly special...to actually mingle and
talk with those first disciples, to come up to Peter or James or
John and ask how the fish are biting or to be invited to dinner
at the home of Mary and Martha or to sit on the ground right next
to Jesus as he spoke with his most intimate friends. That would
be something.
It would be special to walk the streets of those ancient
towns and cities where the first churches were formed, to meet
with those early believers and join in their worship. We CAN do
that, you know...BE there...at least in our imagination.
Let us do it...take a trip...back through time. Imagine
that someone has just put into your hand some phenomenal high
tech crystal on which you can dial in a date and a place. Then
by pressing a button, POOF, you are there. You dial in 95 AD,
and then you punch in Pergamum. Pergamum? Why Pergamum?
Because the preacher said that is where the sermon would be set
this morning, and it is his crystal. That is why Pergamum!
Pergamum really is not a bad choice. Historically, it was
the greatest city in ancient Asia. It was the capital city of
the whole province and had been the capital even before the
Romans came to power. For almost 400 years, in fact, Pergamum
had been the regional seat of government. It is really rather a
good choice for time travel because capitals are always
fascinating.
Now you push the button...and you are there, standing on a
street corner with wide-eyed wonder watching the people of the
city. It is as if you had just stepped onto a Hollywood sound
stage - the wealthy in their sandals and togas, the poor and the
slaves in their sackcloth, over there two Roman legionnaires
talking together who look like they have just stepped out of
something by Cecil B. DeMille. For a moment you feel out of
place and conspicuous, but then you notice that you too are
clothed in the dress of the day - sackcloth, I'm afraid; the
Christians are not wealthy. The only thing that could give you
away is that crystal you still hold in your hand.
You begin to walk down the street, taking in all the sights
and sounds. Pergamum turns out to be an impressive city. It is
built on a 1,000 ft. high cone-shaped hill overlooking the Caicus
River valley. As you move farther up, you look back and see the
blue Aegean some 15 miles away.(1) It is quite a sight.
Some of the buildings are marvelous. As you ascend the hill
you pass a huge library that contains some 200,000 parchment
scrolls, an immense number in an age when everything has to be
written and copied by hand.
Actually parchment was invented in Pergamum.(2) Quite a story
behind that. Up till that time, all writing had been done on
papyrus, paper made from reeds which grew on the banks of the
Nile. As a matter of fact, the making of papyrus was a monopoly
of the government of Egypt and that nation was proud of it and of
its own contributions to learning, its own tremendous library in
Alexandria. As the story goes, the king of Pergamum, in an
attempt to enhance the reputation of his own library, tried to
hire away the chief librarian from Alexandria, a world-famous
scholar by the name of Aristophanes. But the king of Egypt got
wind of it, had Aristophanes put into prison to keep him from
leaving, and then cut off the supply of papyrus to Pergamum.
Well, Pergamum had to do something, so they came up with
something new, a process by which the skins of animals could be
pressed and treated to retain writing. And that was the
invention of parchment...all because of an international incident
created over the hiring of a librarian.
You continue walking up the hill and notice some beautiful
temples. As was the case with all the cities of the ancient
world, each one had a particular god that was thought of as their
own special protector. For Pergamum, it was Asclepios, the god
of healing. His emblem was a serpent, and to this day, the
caduceus symbol is associated with medicine. As you pass by the
temple, you notice that it really looks more like a hospital than
a house of worship - sick people lying about hoping for a miracle
cure. But as you look closer, you wonder how they could stay
there - the place is filled with snakes...harmless snakes, but
still, snakes are snakes. It turns out that these sufferers
believe that the touch of the snake is the same as the touch of
the god, and this is the way they'll be healed. Hmm! Keep that
time travel crystal close by. If you get sick, get out of
Pergamum and back to the 20th century FAST.
You continue walking past the temple and as you keep taking
in your surroundings, your eyes are drawn about three-quarters of
the way up the hill on which Pergamum is built and a sight that
dominates the entire landscape - the Temple of Athene and the
great altar to Zeus in front of it. It stands on a ledge that
juts out from the hillside about 800 feet up. That altar is a
huge thing: 90 feet square and four stories high. Smoke from the
sacrifices rises from it constantly. It is something. The whole
city is something.
You would like to keep slowly meandering about, taking in
the sights, but you realize that this is the Lord's Day, and you
want to join with that small band of Christians in their worship.
You know that it is dangerous to be known as a Christian these
days in Pergamum. After all, this city is the administrative
center of Asia which would make it the headquarters of the
worship of Caesar, not the worship of Christ.(3) So, discreetly,
you have found out where the faithful gather and you make your
way to a small house on a side street to be with them.
To be sure, they eye you with some suspicion as you knock on
the door. After all, you might be a spy - someone from the
government or an agent of the Jews. You cannot very well say,
"Hi, I am a time traveler from 1996 and I want to worship with
you." They would tell you to go up the hill to the temple full
of snakes. No, all you can do to identify yourself is silently
take a small stick and draw the outline of a fish in the dust
outside the door - that is the "password," your Christian ID
card.
You come into the dimly lighted room and stand with the
others. There are no seats. You look at them; they look at you.
You hold tightly to your magic crystal, just in case. But in a
moment, all eyes go to the man who has come to the center of the
room and begun to speak. He is apparently their minister, and is
saying something about a letter that has been delivered this
week. It is from their bishop who is in a prison camp over on
the island of Patmos, written in the name of the Lord Jesus
Christ.
As the pastor begins to read, you realize that you have
heard this letter before: "the words of him who has the sharp
two-edged sword." Hmm. You and all those there with you know
the letter is written in the name of the Savior, but your fellow-
worshipers know about two-edged swords in another context.
The Roman proconsul in Pergamum has one, and he has the
authority that goes with it. He has the power of life and death
which can be used against anyone considered a threat to society.(4)
Christians were seen as a threat. After all, they refused to
come into the temple of the goddess Roma once a year and burn
that little pinch of incense that demonstrates their loyalty to
Caesar - they can be killed for that.
As you hear the minister read the words, you want to shout a
loud AMEN because you know that Jesus is at no loss for power
compared to the proconsul. You know that a day will come when
Rome will no longer rule the world, but Jesus will continue to
reign throughout all eternity. But, you are a Presbyterian, and
Presbyterians do not shout in worship. So you keep quiet and
let the man go on.
"I know where you are living, where Satan's throne is...the
provincial capital...Yet you are holding fast to my name, and you
did not deny your faith in me even in the days of Antipas my
witness, my faithful one, who was killed among you..." You do
not want to interrupt anything, but you lean over to the woman
standing next to you and whisper, "Who is Antipas?" She whispers
back, "One of our brothers who was taken to the arena and boiled
in oil because he would not say `Caesar is Lord.'" You nod in
appreciation for the information then think for a second about
how many of your Christian friends in 1996 would never have to
worry about that happening to them. If Christianity were a
crime, there would not be enough evidence of it in their lives to
convict them.
Your attention goes back to the letter. "But I have a few
things against you: you have some there who hold to the teaching
of Balaam, who taught Balak to put a stumbling block before the
people of Israel, so that they would eat food sacrificed to idols
and practice fornication...immorality." You do not have to ask
anyone what that means. You remember it from Sunday School.
Balaam taught the children of Israel that it was all right to
compromise. He had said that the worship of idols, the eating of
food that had been dedicated to those idols, sacred prostitution
were not so terrible as long as the people worshiped Yahweh as
well. Sure, and that is why, in Israel, the name Balaam had
become synonymous with evil.
And that was precisely why the letter the preacher is
reading comes down so hard on the Nicolaitans. These are folks
in the church who are saying that going up to the Roman temple
and burning that little bit of incense and mouthing the
obligatory line, "Caesar is Lord," is not such a terrible price
to pay for being able to worship Christ in peace and without fear
of persecution. Their message is "Go along to get along" -
failure to compromise, a refusal to bend a little, is hazardous
to your health.
Now you REALLY wish you could shout something out. You wish
you could tell these new friends of yours about what happens when
the church gets in bed with the world. You wish you could tell
them what happened when the church in the Middle Ages compromised
with the rulers of the day and, supposedly in the name of Jesus,
ended up making a graveyard of the globe. You wish you could
tell them what happened when the German Christians compromised
with Hitler in the 1930's and saw the Holocaust ensue. You wish
you could tell them how easy it is for Christians to come to love
their own passing pleasure more than they love Jesus. You wish
you could shout that out...but they would not understand. As you
stand there it occurs to you that millions of your own
contemporaries do not understand despite all the lessons that
history has taught. No, you just keep quiet and keep a tight
grip on your magic crystal.
The letter continues. "To everyone who conquers I will give
some of the hidden manna..." Hmm. Interesting stuff. You
reach back in your memory bank and remember that old Jewish
legend about someone hiding the pot of manna that had been in the
Ark of the Covenant so it could not be stolen when the Jerusalem
Temple was destroyed 700 years before. As the story goes, when
the Messiah comes, the hidden manna will be discovered again.(5)
Those standing there with you in Pergamum who come from a Jewish
background understand: the bishop is using symbolic language. He
is saying that those who keep the faith, those who do not
compromise, will one day enjoy the blessings of the Lord's
return.
"...and I will give a white stone, and on the white stone is
written a new name that no one knows except the one who receives
it." You almost laugh at that. Superstition. You look around
the room and wonder how many already have something like that.
After all, it was common to carry an amulet (sometimes just a
stone) with the name of a god written on it for safety. And they
were thought to be doubly effective if no one other than the
owner knew whose name was on it.(6) Foolish superstition. But
then you realize that half your friends in the 20th century carry
lucky pennies or a rabbit's foot or something like that. They do
not mean anything, but people still hang on to them. But, as you
think of it, you realize that a word of assurance, a word of
safety for these folks in Pergamum who face danger every day
because of their Christian faith is welcome indeed, even if that
word is couched in the language of superstition.
Now the letter is over. The pastor has called for a time of
prayer and, in a moment, the little group has gathered around a
small table to celebrate the Lord's Supper. You hear familiar
words: "This is my body...this cup is the new covenant in my
blood...do this in remembrance of me." The moment is just as
special for you in that little house as it would be in the most
magnificent cathedral. You really FEEL the presence of the
Savior.
It is over almost too soon. You try to get away without
saying too much to anyone. It is not that you are unfriendly.
It is just that you do not know what to say about where you have
come from or how you happen to be in the neighborhood. So you
walk quickly into the street, turn the corner, dialing your magic
crystal to Greensboro and 1996 as you go. You press the button
and POOF, you are back in your seat at St. Paul. The trip in
time is over. Or is it?
Can it EVER be? You see, the words of the Lord to those
folks in Pergamum live on...the words about remaining faithful in
spite of persecution or ridicule, the words denouncing those who
would compromise the Gospel for the sake of convenience or power
or pleasure, the words promising eternal blessing and safety for
those who keep the faith. No, those words are time travelers
themselves, and they do not even need a magic crystal.
"Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is
saying to the churches."
Amen!
1. James Blevins, Revelation: Knox Preaching Guides,
John Hayes, ed.,(Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1984), p. 17
2. William Barclay, The Revelation of John, Vol. 1:
Daily Study Bible Series, rev. ed., (Philadelphia: Westminster,
1976), p. 88
3. ibid., p. 90
4. ibid.
5. ibid, p. 94
6. ibid. p. 97
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