Ephesus and Smyrna, now in modern Turkey, were wonderful cities of ancient Greece. The Christians of Ephesus were the target of one of St Paul’s epistles in the New Testament. More famously at the time, it was the location of the Temple of Artemis, known as the seven-breasted Lady of Ephesus, alias the Roman goddess, Diana. Smyrna, also in ancient Greece and modern Turkey, was a prominent coastal port, prosperous and also with notable buildings and monuments.
And these two fine cities, Ephesus and Smyrna, also had the distinction of having Christian communities that were singled out, along with those in five other cities. Their distinction was for both praise and criticism in the book of Revelation, the last book in the Bible. And they were the subject of this afternoon’s second reading. The other five cities appear in the readings for the next three Sunday Evensongs. So keep coming if you want the whole picture!
With this in mind, a bit of background might be helpful. It’s possible to work out from the contents that the book of Revelation was written near to the end of the first century, in about AD 96. The writer calls himself John, but we can tell from the style and vocabulary that it’s not any of the Johns who have appeared or written earlier in the Bible, like John and Baptist, or John the apostle, or John who wrote St John’s Gospel. This John, who wrote Revelation, says he was on the island of Patmos when he had some remarkable visions, all filled with symbolism, that he then recorded in what we call the book of Revelation. They start with seven separate letters to these seven Christian communities, dictated to him in one of his visions by a glorious figure called the Son of Man, which is one of the names for Jesus: the first letter to the church in Ephesus and the second to the church in Smyrna.
You’ll be relieved to know that I’m not about to embark on a systematic commentary on every facet of these complicated, so-called letters. But I would like to pick out one or two points that might be useful.
All seven letters include some tickings-off. John seems to think he knows the shortcomings of these Christian communities, and he doesn’t mince his words. But the first one, to the Ephesians, at least starts on a positive note. It’s a bit like an annual appraisal of a member of staff. It starts with the soft bit, the reassurance:
I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers. . . . I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name [that’s the name of Jesus, the Son of Man, who he said had dictated the letter], and that you have not grown weary.
But then comes the tough bit, the hard message:
But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember . . . from what you have fallen; repent and do the works you did at first.
And then, like a final warning to an employee:
If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.
Now there’s a threat to conjure with. How would you like to have your lampstand removed? It sounds almost comical, like someone saying to the Cathedral, ‘You’d better behave, or else I’ll take your bells away!’ But actually, in the context of Revelation symbolism, it refers to the Ephesians’ identity as a genuine Christian church. And that, I’m sure you’ll agree, is something pretty serious: if you don’t recover your initial Christian vigour, you won’t be considered a church anymore. It seems that these Christians’ honeymoon period with Christ had ended, their initial enthusiasm had worn off.
The second letter, to the Smyrnians (if there is such a word) . . . the letter to the Christians of Smyrna is somewhat different. Smyrna was a major centre for Roman worship of the Roman emperor. There was also a large Jewish settlement there, and we know that the Jews there often collaborated with the Roman authorities in persecuting Christians. Jews were themselves excused emperor-worship, provided they prayed for the emperor in their synagogues. But there was no such protection for Christians. To become a Christian meant taking your life in your hands, particularly with some Jewish quislings about the place. There was ganging up against Christians. John’s message starts:
I know the false claim by those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.
This isn’t anti-Semitic, but the opposite. It’s a recognition of what true Judaism is about. This is a synagogue of people who call themselves Jews, but aren’t behaving as true Jews in following godly principles of integrity and care for all nations: ‘I know the false claim by those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan’.
However, John goes on, this being the case, Roman persecution is inevitable, it will be acute and it’s in the offing:
Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Beware, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison so that you may be tested, and for ten days you will have affliction.
Now ten days in prison doesn’t sound too terrible, depending on the conditions, of course. But those ten days that were forecast were probably on death-row, because John continues:
Be faithful until death, and I [that’s Jesus, the Son of Man] . . . I will give you the crown of life.
So what are we to draw from all of this, from these admonishments and encouragement directed at these two Christian communities? Well, we’re fortunate in western Europe that, under foreseeable regimes, we’re not likely to finish up in gaol or being executed for our faith. I don’t imagine death for Christians will appear in even the most extreme of party manifestos for our local or national elections. But for some elsewhere, Christian faith can certainly lead to persecution or death. Wikipedia lists no less than twelve countries where religious persecution is rife, either by the state itself or by sectors within them. And there are another twelve that are on an American watch-list of countries for particular concern in this direction. And sometimes, it isn’t the faith itself of a Christian that can land him or her in trouble, but the outworking of that person’s faith, as it drives him or her into particular action that challenges a state of sectors within it. Take the heroic Alexei Navalny, for instance, who, it is said, was motivated by his Christian faith.
And, for us, it’s more likely the outworking of our faith, if we are true to it, than faith itself, that will cost us something. It may cost us our pride when what is needed is humility; it may cost us significant giving of funds for relief of suffering abroad and at home; it may cost us heartache and much time and patience in caring for relatives and friends in need of all sorts of care.
So, for all of us, me included and for you here in the Cathedral and you with us online, and at the risk of being moralistic, here is our challenge from this Revelation reading. With the Ephesians, let’s not lose heart, and let’s revive our true vigour and enthusiasm as Christians. And with the Smyrnians (I’m coming to like that word) . . with the Smyrnians, let’s stay true to our faith of love and care, wherever and however and with whatever cost it leads us.
God bless us all.