A Great Throng

A Great Throng November 1, 2020

I’m over at Stand Firm today.

Last year for All Saints I put together a pretty great listicle, riffing off the one that Jesus puts together for his lovely Sermon on the Mount. I had been thinking lots about the word “blessing” or rather, hashtag blessed, and thought it was so funny of Jesus to do up a list full of human impossibilities—like humility and selflessness.

This year, the thing that strikes me across the soul is the vision in Revelation. Look at this strange picture that none of us are allowed to even contemplate or Anthony Fauci will come crying across the interwebs in a panic:

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”

First of all, the loud voice bit is bewildering. No one should cry out altogether with a loud voice. If you have to talk, it is better behind Plexiglas and muffled by a mask. Second of all, you can’t crowd together like that, especially inside, especially groups of people who haven’t been quarantining in tandem or whatever it is, so that they can meet with each other in cautiously limited ways, without endangering anyone.

The interesting thing about this for me is that, had it not been for covid, I would not have felt the intense and grateful longing that I do now for this forthcoming experience. I have always looked forward to it, of course. There are a lot of people I want to be with and can’t. The people I love are spread out all over the world, and some of them are gone altogether, enjoying the consolations of the bosom of Abraham until we can catch up whenever I get there. That is what this image has chiefly said to me, as I have had to say goodbye over and over and over—it’s ok, we’ll all be together again one day, all around the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in something decent, finally, singing.

But this new kind of isolation makes the image even more immediate. I do think, in some spiritual way, it is always a little bit dangerous when people get together in big groups, even for very good reasons. There is nothing wrong with big concerts, loud sportsing events, or even political rallies. And there are probably some very good reasons to protest. And, of course, the best gathering—church—is not a dangerous activity, per se. But the kind of unity that we endure here on earth is always full of problems. If we sing, some of us are not in key. If we protest, some of us are doing it with wicked hearts. If we settle in for a concert, some of us fall asleep. Moreover, the deep, soul-level cacophony of so many sinners trying to do the same thing all at the same time usually increases the sense of isolation, especially when you make your solitary way home whenever it is all over.

Add in covid, and the anxiety of crowds getting together to breathe on each other eclipses that already familiar misfortune. Setting aside whether the injunctions not to gather are of any use, or if covid is real or not real, or if we are being controlled by our political betters, I appreciate the distressing and new (for me) discovery that we—especially in groups—are “problematical,” that we have the capacity to do real damage one unto another. Imagine, if you will, all the people, living for today, oo-ooo-ooo, and you can see how potentially ghastly it is.

But this vision of heaven isn’t like that…read the rest here.


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