My guess is that most of you haven’t been to see the big new apocalyptic disaster film 2012 which was released earlier this month. The posters have the strapline “We were Warned!”
But warned of what? Well warned that the world was more or less going to end in a Doomsday string of cataclysmic disasters in 2012. I won’t bore you with the details, but it could properly spoil the Olympics.
It reminds me of brother George who 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, even if the Lord were running on European time!
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: no flowers, no Gloria, we’re wearing sober blue and the choir are singing a lot of unaccompanied plainchant.
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, and the apocalypse – the revelation of Christ.
So 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?
The Gospel reading from Luke is typical of much apocalyptic writing of the first century. But in Jesus’ words 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 – don’t believe the prophets of doom” and “these are the end-time signs – like a good boy scout – be prepared!”
I ventured into the foothills of the Atlas mountains last month when I was in Marrakech. As we drove towards them (stopping off at so many of the taxi driver’s cousins who wanted to do us special deals on pots and carpets and Berber coffee tables) we realised that although we could discern the individual peaks we were not always sure which peak was in the foreground and which peak was further off in the background.
The twin peaks of this prophecy of Jesus appear to be the relatively imminent destruction of Jerusalem in 70AD and the more distant close of the age, the Parousia which we still await, his return to earth.
Now which descriptions belong to which event is not at all easy to sort out. Let’s briefly look at that first peak – the destruction of Jerusalem.
And to do that we have to go back to 168BC when Antiochus Epiphanes was King of Syria.
He desecrated the glorious Temple in Jerusalem, setting up an altar to Zeus on the burnt offering altar and sacrificing pigs. It was still raw in the memories of the Jews.
So Jesus uses the apocalyptic imagery that calls up the common memory of this horrendous event before he looks forward to an even worse event – the complete destruction of the Temple; and perhaps even further forward to the then unthought of terrors of the holocaust in the 20th century.
And in such days of suffering and confusion, our Lord warns us of false christs and prophets. False christs 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 get a second opinion from another priest about them.
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 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 but also use Jesus’ favourite teaching technique - the parable.
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 Luke is hearkening back to Christ's cursing of the fig tree in an earlier chapter (Luke 11:12-20) which was a 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: Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. (v.33)
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.
Now of course 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 earlier in the 20th century – 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 all these 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. We just don’t know.
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. We should plan for our spiritual future, by investing spiritually in the present.
Advent is about preparation for the joy of Christmas, and the church and indeed most religions have learnt that the best preparation for a feast is a bit of self-denial and spiritual self-examination.
So spend a little more time on your spiritual disciplines in the next month, in between the office parties and soirees, and see how much more you enjoy Christmas when it comes.
“May God so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.” I Thess 3.13
So 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?
The Gospel reading from Luke is typical of much apocalyptic writing of the first century. But in Jesus’ words 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 – don’t believe the prophets of doom” and “these are the end-time signs – like a good boy scout – be prepared!”
I ventured into the foothills of the Atlas mountains last month when I was in Marrakech. As we drove towards them (stopping off at so many of the taxi driver’s cousins who wanted to do us special deals on pots and carpets and Berber coffee tables) we realised that although we could discern the individual peaks we were not always sure which peak was in the foreground and which peak was further off in the background.
The twin peaks of this prophecy of Jesus appear to be the relatively imminent destruction of Jerusalem in 70AD and the more distant close of the age, the Parousia which we still await, his return to earth.
Now which descriptions belong to which event is not at all easy to sort out. Let’s briefly look at that first peak – the destruction of Jerusalem.
And to do that we have to go back to 168BC when Antiochus Epiphanes was King of Syria.
He desecrated the glorious Temple in Jerusalem, setting up an altar to Zeus on the burnt offering altar and sacrificing pigs. It was still raw in the memories of the Jews.
So Jesus uses the apocalyptic imagery that calls up the common memory of this horrendous event before he looks forward to an even worse event – the complete destruction of the Temple; and perhaps even further forward to the then unthought of terrors of the holocaust in the 20th century.
And in such days of suffering and confusion, our Lord warns us of false christs and prophets. False christs 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 get a second opinion from another priest about them.
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 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 but also use Jesus’ favourite teaching technique - the parable.
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 Luke is hearkening back to Christ's cursing of the fig tree in an earlier chapter (Luke 11:12-20) which was a 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: Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. (v.33)
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.
Now of course 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 earlier in the 20th century – 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 all these 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. We just don’t know.
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. We should plan for our spiritual future, by investing spiritually in the present.
Advent is about preparation for the joy of Christmas, and the church and indeed most religions have learnt that the best preparation for a feast is a bit of self-denial and spiritual self-examination.
So spend a little more time on your spiritual disciplines in the next month, in between the office parties and soirees, and see how much more you enjoy Christmas when it comes.
“May God so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.” I Thess 3.13
