Apocolypse at Seven Fifteen

So they fall down
before the one who sits on the throne
and worship him, who lives forever and ever.
They throw down our crowns of incredulity before the throne, exclaiming:
“Worthy are you, Lord our God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things;
because of your will they came to be and were created.”
Who I ask you can endure the apocalypse at seven fifteen?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the door of heaven opened here, or here this morning and we could get a glimpse of the beyond?
Wouldn’t it be incredible if we heard the triumphal tones of that trumpet-like voice crying out “Come up here!”?
Wouldn’t it be awesome if we got caught up in the swirling spirations of the Immortal, Invisible?
Wouldn’t it be amazing if we saw the throne of jasper and carnelian (whatever that is)?
Wouldn’t it be tremendous to be dazzled by that halo of emerald shining in our chapel?
Wouldn’t it be overwhelming to see twenty-four circling elders before breakfast?
Flashes of lightening, Peals of thunder, Seven flaming torches, Four living creatures
What a vision. Perhaps too much of a vision for seven fifteen?
But it would be well … wonderful
Instead we get something else, Not a different reality
But a kind of accidental vision with which to see that reality
Accidental vision in which …
The door of heaven looks like an opening in a sandstone wall
The voices croak a bit with the strains of old chanted psalms
We are caught up in the insalubratory Spirit of lost sleep
The throne looks a bit like a table of wood and granite
The halo is a bright light shining off the roof of a copper box
The twenty-four elders, old monks and priests, a smattering of sisters and a pack of cranky, red-eyed seminarians slouching toward Thanksgiving
Slouching toward Thanksgiving with accidental vision
Miraculous myopicity
But O yes O yes Our song is the same: Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty
Our song is the same even at seven fifteen, Even with accidental vision
As we penetrate the veil of mystery and with triumph rejoice with the heavenly witnesses
So we fall down
before the one who sits on the throne
and worship him, who lives forever and ever.
We throw down our crowns of incredulity before the throne, exclaiming:
“Worthy are you, Lord our God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things;
because of your will they came to be and were created.”
Apocalypse indeed, even at Seven fifteen