Advent Apocalypse

Advent Apocalypse

“…you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Cor 1.7

So Brother George leads this Christian Sect who are sure that the second coming and the end of the world will be on December 31st at midnight. He and his followers gather on a local hilltop, ready to greet the returning Lord. Midnight comes and they look to the skies – nothing happens. Quarter past midnight – still nothing. 1am – still nothing. Br George’s followers gradually begin to go back down the hill until only his right hand man is left. At 2am, even he leaves – and as he passes George, he pats him on the shoulder and says “never mind George. It’s not the end of the world.”

It’s Advent Sunday again, the beginning of the Church’s liturgical year, and once again we have all these readings about the end of the world, the day of judgement, the parousia – meaning the second coming of Christ, the apocalypse – the revelation of Christ.

And what is it all about? Men with sandwich boards in Leicester Square proclaiming ‘The End is Nigh’? Will the universe be brought to an abrupt and cataclysmic close?

Reading through Mark’s gospel, the chapter from which today’s Gospel is taken, comes like a bolt out of the blue. Everything has been fairly straightforward in this shortest, probably earliest and almost tract-like gospel – the gospel we shall follow through in the Sunday readings for this next year.

Then we hit an apparently impenetrable prophecy full of foreboding, apprehension and warning.

It is sometimes called the Little Apocalypse (the word means ‘revelation’) and is reminiscent of the sort of language and imagery found in parts of Daniel (quoted in vv. 14, 19, 26) or in the book of Revelation. There are many shared characteristics of apocalyptic writing, although these words of Jesus, probably collected together by Mark from a number of his sayings over the years, also show some distinctive differences.

There is more hope than usual, with a purposeful rather than pessimistic view of history. And there is exhortation included, albeit with an uneasy tension that we still live with: “the end is not yet - do nothing” and “these are the end-time signs - act and don’t be caught off guard.”

As you stand and look at very distant mountains, you can discern the peaks but are not always sure which peak is in the foreground and which peak is further off in the background. The twin peaks of this prophecy appear to be the relatively imminent destruction of Jerusalem in 70AD (I think Mark was writing some years before this event) and the more distant close of the age, the Parousia which we still await.

Now which descriptions belong to which event is not at all easy to sort out. Before we look at the verses in today’s Gospel, let’s just spend a moment on that first peak – the destruction of Jerusalem.

In 168BC Antiochus Epiphanes, King of Syria, desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem, setting up an altar to Zeus on the burnt offering altar and sacrificing pigs. This is often seen as the fulfilment of Daniel’s prophecy concerning the Abomination of Desolation (Daniel 12:11) Luke’s version (21:20) mentions more explicitly the King’s armies that surrounded the city.

Jesus uses the same language here (v.14) and calls up the common memory of this horrendous event before he looks forward to an even worse destruction of the Temple, and perhaps even further forward to the then unknown terrors of the 20th century holocaust.

And in such days of suffering and confusion, our Lord warns us of false christs and prophets. False Christ’s never seem too difficult to spot – I have had a number of people tell me over the years that they are Jesus Christ – and I have never felt the need to take advice on their claims.

But false prophets are altogether harder to identify. Perhaps there is something in the way that they parade their miracles and signs and wonders. It is significant that Jesus never ‘did tricks’ or performed miracles on demand.

The apocryphal Gospel of Thomas, wisely left out of the New Testament canon, has Jesus, as a boy, making clay pigeons and throwing them in the air where they spring into life. Jesus never uses signs and wonders to compel faith or confound sceptics. They spring from compassion for the sick and needy and are often accompanied by a plea to “tell no one”.

It contrasts starkly with some of the tele-evangelists and miracle workers who are still busy around the Christian world.

But let’s move on to the verses we read today.

They are full of familiar Old Testament imagery, where Jesus uses phrases from Isaiah (13:10; 34:4), moving on now from the nearer events of the destruction of the Temple, to describe the Parousia.

Jesus takes up Daniel's vision of the Son of Man (Daniel 7:13,14) coming in glory from the Ancient of Days with authority over all peoples. And the gloom is touched with the hope of glory (vv.26, 27) for the disciples of Christ in every age.

The fig tree is very common in Palestine where most other trees are evergreen. So it is one of the clearest indicators of the passing seasons. Perhaps too Mark is hearkening back to Christ's cursing of the fig tree (11:12-20) with his pronouncement of judgement on the Temple and religious establishment.

In contrast, the fig tree of this parable is a sign of summer and hope. In testing and depressing days it’s hard to hold on to hope. (I read on a staff notice board in school: "To make savings during government cut-backs, the light at the end of the tunnel has been switched off...")

So Jesus reminds them and us that his words are more certain than the seasons and will endure longer than the physical universe.

There are still groups of Christians around the world obsessed with trying to predict the date and mechanical niceties of the Second Coming.

Jesus puts an end to all such 'almanac discipleship' by asserting that he, the Son, does not know the timetable, and that if he doesn't know, then no one can know. The pre-occupation of Christians should be with how to conduct themselves in these end times - between Christ's first coming and his Second Coming – this is the Advent theme.

But then some of us have become so blasé about all this that we don’t really believe the words we will say in the Nicene creed in a moment: “And he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and the dead.”

If we are theologically minded we may have bought into some form of ‘realised eschatology’ – often attributed to Albert Schweitzer and CH Dodd – the idea that everything has already happened in the first coming of Christ. There’s nothing else to wait for.

But more commonly, we just can’t imagine an ‘end of the world’, and hope it doesn’t come before our holidays!

Scientifically, the world will certainly end, and the earth will collapse into the sun – although not while there is a labour government. And of course, through the good services of technology, we are perfectly capable of destroying all life on the planet ourselves. It’s the stuff apocalyptic films and novels are made of.

But this is to miss the point of our Lord’s teaching.

On the ‘how’ or the ‘when’ this parousia will happen, we must remain agnostic.

Rather it means there should be a sense of 'edge' in our Christian living; a knowledge that we may not have all the time in the world, that we should ‘carpe diem’ – seize the day. That we should use the spiritual gifts that we have, and following on from last Sunday’s theme, the resources that we have, now while we still have time. We should plan for our spiritual future, by investing spiritually in the present.

Remember that Jesus also used the imagery of watching and waiting for the bridegroom - a much more positive metaphor. It’s like the excitement we feel in the days leading up to the visit of a long-absent and dear friend. Our waking moments are tinged with the inner flutter of anticipation of a joyful reunion.

We can’t permanently live in a state of anticipation – but this Advent season is a reminder that the re-union with our dear friend will happen, sooner or later!

“…you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Review - 3 OT background books

Old Words New Life: Reflections on 40 Key Old Testament Words

By David Winter
BRF £6.99 (1-84101-391-9)

Connected Christianity: Discovering the riches of the Old Testament

By David Spriggs
BRF £8.99 (1-84101-420-6)

Standing Up to God

By Anthony Phillips
SPCK £9.99 (0-281-05699-4)

The Old Testament Lectionary readings often leave the congregation baffled at best, or convinced that God must have written it before he became a Christian! And preachers often, understandably, choose the Gospel or Epistle to expound. So it’s good to have these books, which are both accessible and readable for the intelligent layperson as well as providing pithy background for those preachers who dare to venture into the OT. David Winter’s list of 40 key words, from Atonement to Yahweh, can be used as a reference book or a source for daily meditation – each brief chapter ends with a reflection. Some words not listed in the 40 are touched on under other another label. So ‘Sin’ also contains a paragraph or two on ‘wrath’. There is a devotional undercurrent always in Winter’s writings and at times, the brevity may frustrate but will whet the appetite for some more serious study of the Hebrew Scriptures.
David Spriggs has provided just this with a thoughtful OT background, touching on much recent scholarship, but without a German word in sight! The book has questions for group study and a useful annotated yet brief bibliography. Spriggs gently opens up the contextual issues of Ancient Near Eastern history, cultic religion and textual genre, but without getting bogged down in them. The final chapters segue from monotheism, messiah and mission into the connection with the New Testament.
Yet still those puzzling Old Testament passages, like the testing of Abraham and of Job, the angel wrestling with Jacob, Isaiah’s suffering servant – point uncomfortably to the ‘shadow side of God’ as Anthony Phillips calls it. He engages with these texts, and others, drawing them into the mystery of Christ’s passion. There are certainly no trite answers here to the problem of theodicy, or to why bad things happen to good people. With integrity and some bold theological assertions (that God occasionally ‘loses the plot’), Phillips believes that through faith and love, the light of hope can eventually pierce the darkest shadows.

Church Times

Remembrance

“Do this in remembrance of me.” 1 Cor 11.24

The fourth Harry Potter film is upon us. Another classic battle between good and evil.

Central to the Harry Potter books is the theme of Harry recovering his memory - his personal history - and in so doing realising who he really is and the powers that he has.

Memory is a strange but very important human ability. It creates the substance of our being. There can be no ‘What I Am’ without the memory of ‘What I have been.’

In human evolution, it was the creatures with memory that won over those early creatures with no memory.

It is the foundation of all our deep relationships: shared history; shared memories. How often in our conversations with friends do we start a sentence with “Do you remember?” (It binds us to people of our own age-group. Fireworks yesterday.)

The short-term memory is the most vital and sometimes the most fragile. Sentences begun but unended with ‘what was I saying?’ There is, by the way, a fascinating website called shorttermmemoryloss.com which celebrates at the moment the 60th Anniversary of Housmans Bookshop in the Caledonian Rd by King’s Cross – it’s been the home of the peace movement for these past 60 years. “60 years of peace” it proclaims “but little quiet”. Indeed more have been killed in wars over these past 60 years of peace than in the previous two terrible World Wars.

Remembering where we have been, helps us to make sense of where we are no. So music has no beauty without the memory of what was. The resolution of the chord or the conclusion of the book is meaningless without the retention in your memory of what has gone before.

Long-term memory is even more of an enigma. A cameo appearance of an old friend 35 years ago is there in all its vividness: the flares, the tie, the bicycles on the tow-path with the Sturmy Archer 3-speed gears. But what happened in 1964 when you were in the fourth form? - the entire year is a complete blank. [Of course my older sisters say that if you remember the 60s then you weren’t there?!]

Then there is communal memory, passed on from one generation to another. Two Millennia seems half of the age of the earth. But the age of the earth is in fact about two million times two millennia.

The psychology of historical recall means that 500 years ago has as much relevance to our three score years and ten lives as 500 million years ago. Shakespeare is as alien to us as dinosaurs.

There is another complication. We live in an accelerated culture where the rate of change in so many aspects of our daily lives is always increasing. Young people now suffer from premature nostalgia. The nineties is already ‘retro’ - history. There have been more inventions and changes in these last 60 years of peace than in the previous 5,000 years! The slide-rule that got me through Cambridge engineering is now in the Science museum!

And we all know the experience of looking at old family photos. There is a 17 year old you, in braided jacket with a school prefect’s badge. But how is that you/me? I’m a stranger to myself. Every cell in my body has changed many times since then and half my brain cells have already died - and the other two are feeling queasy.

The Bible and the Church have always placed a strong emphasis on the integration of our memory - commonly owned history - into the present reality. Indeed there can be no present reality without a sense of what was. The postmodern assertion that yesterday is another country, is a denial of the Christian view of personhood and Heilsgeschichte - Salvation History – which shapes our present.

These vestments, the liturgy, the music, the art and symbols of recent and long past centuries - these all give greater reality to the ‘now’.

Why has Remembrance Day become arguably of greater significance in the last decade than, say, in the 60s and 70s? There were calls for its abolition back then.

Many of us now have no direct memories of the world wars, yet the act of remembrance - the liturgy at the Cenotaph, the poppies, the veterans, the engraved walls, the war poems - all these give substance to the reality of the war dead, and a poignancy to the new struggles with terrorism and the daily casualties in Iraq or the latest location of indiscriminate violence.

These yearly community remembrances; the counting of the decades of uneasy peace; these 60 years of nervous optimism that we will never fall into another world-wide conflagration – these ceremonies of thankfulness and hope. They help to give expression to our inner longings for peace and a better society; for an end to violence and hatred. They are a shared history, which guides us in shaping the present.

Of course there are cultures whose communal remembering is rooted in vengeance and hatred which prolongs the relentless cycle of bloodshed. This sort of remembering must be expunged if the culture is to survive.

Well few of us now have direct experience of war, but of course none of us have direct and experiential memories of the man Christ Jesus; who lived and died and rose again these two millennia past - 50 generations ago. Yet we believe that our remembering of this man, deeply affects our present and future.

Catherine Pickstock at Cambridge wrote a startling but difficult book a couple of years ago entitled After Writing: On the Liturgical Consummation of Philosophy. It is an attack on the floating, postmodern self, detached from history and memory. She wrote of this service, the mass:

“… the worshipper’s forward journey is precisely its journey towards memory: the occasion of our meeting God is our memory of him.” (p.231)

“Do this” says Jesus, “in remembrance of me.”

I remember, as a young teacher, standing in the memorial cloister of Lancing College at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, 32 years ago.

And looking at the 500 young men and masters around me, and then at the 500 names etched in the cold November walls in front of us. The lesson needed no words of explanation.

Today we remember and honour the war dead. We give thanks for their sacrifice and pray to God that we will not let such carnage happen again. It is Remembrance Sunday. Our communal memory encourages us to work for a better present reality – and if we remember rightly, it brings that reality into being.

Which is why for Christians every Sunday is Remembrance Sunday. Our communal memory allows God to make himself a reality among us in bread and wine and fellowship.

So, a deep understanding, a deep sense of who we are; what we are doing on this war-riven planet; why our relationships have any value; how the suffering and death of God in Christ nearly two thousand years ago affect us today; the conviction that the Risen Lord is with us now, and that we will be with him and all those who have gone before; and the hope that 60 years of peace will lead to that time when the lion will lie down with the lamb, and they will study war no more…

…this is all bound up in the profound utterance of our Lord which we and the church universal repeat in every hour, of every day, of every century:

“Do this in remembrance of me.” 1 Cor 11.24