Like many readers this year, I’ve found myself sucked into the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. If you’re not familiar with, it’s the story of an ordinary guy who is trapped in a vast dungeon that is set up as a reality competition show when Earth is taken over by an alien syndicate. Along with his ex-girlfriend’s newly sentient cat (Princess Donut), Carl must fight his way through various levels filled with monsters, demons, and all sorts of strange setups, in order to survive. But despite what this may sound like, this is not a typical ‘hero’s journey’, in which one man must find the strength to overcome life’s obstacles to win the day; instead it’s what has been come to be called the ‘heroine’s journey’ — a story in which victory is won through relationship-building and collaboration. And so, as the series goes on, Carl and Donut pick up an array of friends and allies, and without spoiling too much, in later books are also aided by the wisdom and experience of past Crawlers. The deeper they go, the greater their community, and the more support they have, both inside the dungeon and without. By the way, this is a post about the communion of saints.
Today is, of course, All Saints Day on the Western calendar, the day when we remember the lives of all of the faithful who have gone before us. My favourite image for this is that of “the great cloud of witnesses” cheering us on as we run the race of life (Hebrews 12.1). But a close second is found in today’s reading from Revelation:
After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!” And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshipped God, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honour and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.” Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the centre of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7.9-17)
What we have here is an image of genuine community. It’s not just humanity in all its diversity (”from all tribes and peoples and languages”) but all of creation come together in worship and praise of God. But these just aren’t just anyone, as the visionary finds out. They are the ones who have survived the ordeal of life, not by carrying the day or taking the crown, but by an even more difficult victory: staying true to their faith amidst all kinds of trials, tribulations, and temptations. And for this they have entered into the Paradise of the Kingdom of God.
It’s not for nothing that today’s Gospel reading is the Beatitudes, that wonderful passage from the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus overturns ‘the way the world works’ and insists that it is the poor and humble, the grieving, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for what is good and right, those who show mercy, whose hearts have been purified by life’s fire, those who work for the sake of peace and justice, and those who are persecuted who are blessed (Matthew 5.3-10).
This is so important to remember, especially right now in which we are beset not only by language of division, hatred, and violence, but also by an (induced and intentional) sense of financial precariousness that makes the temptation just to give in and look out for ourselves and no one else incredibly powerful. Like Carl in the dungeon we must look at the world and its principalities and powers and defiantly say: “You will not break me.” But we can’t do it alone. Also like Carl we have to build community with those around us who are also fighting the good fight, and remember the promise of All Saints Day, that we also have the support, wisdom, and guidance of all the myriad of faithful who have done all this before us. Because the only thing more powerful than “You will not break me” is “You will not break us.”
I don’t have to tell you these are trying, frightening times. It’s easy to feel alone. But it’s so important to remember that we’re not alone. That “great cloud of witnesses” is not only cheering us on, but they’ve been where we are, and they prevailed. Imperfectly, certainly, but by the grace of God. One of my favourite series I’ve written here was “Theology from under the Rubble,” which was all about hearing the voices of those writing from the darkest of times: the end of empire, plague, fascist and communist oppression, racial segregation, and national defeat (both moral and military). And that’s the message for our times. If they could do it, we can too. We’re empowered by the same Holy Spirit that empowered them. The kingdoms of this world are strong indeed, but they will not break us.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Ephesians 3.20-21)
