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