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“Apocalypse Now!” Text: Luke 21:5–19 I’ll never forget the experience of walking through this magnificent—but empty—space in the afternoon of that terrible day, September 11, 2001. The decision had been made earlier for security reasons to clear the building of visitors that day, and let the staff go home to be with their family and loved ones. The cathedral clergy remained, however, for we are always open for the daily round of prayers and worship, and we continued to conduct services outside, nervously watching the sky upon hearing any airplane noises, wondering if this tall structure on the highest point in Washington, DC would be the next target for aircraft being used for missiles. An eerie silence pervaded the entire Cathedral that afternoon, as well as deep mourning, anger, uncertainty and a palpable dread for the future. As I walked in the gloomy darkness, I could not help but notice also how awesomely beautiful this sacred space is. The holiness of its chapels, its stained glass and other works of art telling the story of God’s active presence in the world, its Gothic spires confidently reaching towards the heavens, all speak of faith and hope in the triumph of divine love and justice in conquering human evil. “But is it so?” I wondered that day, of all days. Will good overcome evil? Will this temple, this monument to human faith, fall along with all our best hopes and dreams for humankind? Will its stones come tumbling down in this generation? Will the Cathedral stand forever? I think I can understand what was going on in the disciples’ minds as they heard the dire warnings of Jesus in today’s gospel lesson. There they were, in the cosmopolitan capital city of Jerusalem standing in the midst of The Temple, the national symbol of the pride of Israel and the most visible image of its faith in God. King Herod’s recently renovated building in the first century B.C. was a magnificent edifice. The Temple stood in a 400 x 500 yard walled area. The courtyard walls were of white marble. Porches were lined with rows of stone columns topped with ornate Corinthian capitals. Great marble tables stood ready for preparing the sacrificial animals. The central shrine itself stood more than 100 feet high. Its walls were covered with sheets of gold so bright that in the sunshine pilgrims to the Temple would have had to shield their eyes. Perhaps, at moments when the huge front doors were opened, fortunate pilgrims might catch a glimpse of the great curtains or veils shielding the Holy of Holies from the eyes of sinful mortals. Outside, the entire white stone face of the Temple was plated with gold and silver, so much that the Jewish historian Josephus wrote that it looked like a snow-capped mountain. Standing there, the disciples in all likelihood asked the same question that I asked that afternoon standing alone in this great cathedral: “Will it last?” And Jesus’ answer? “No. Nothing lasts forever.” His exact words as recorded in verse 6 in Luke’s gospel reads, “The days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” Jesus, of course, was making a prediction of the coming destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, a historical fact that occurred in 70 A.D., at least a generation before Luke recorded these words for the early Christian church. What the disciples heard as prophecy, the first readers of the gospel heard as history. The problem of timing and audience is the problem that we moderns have today in interpreting Scriptures of the type we have this morning: are the words a prediction of a future that is ahead of us, a history of a past that is behind us, or a statement about the present that is before us. The type of literature that describes the Scripture before us has been called both eschatological and apocalyptic. The two words are often confused or assumed to refer to the same thing, namely a cataclysmic end to the world as we know it. This confusion is understandable since in a Gospel passage like Luke 21 assigned for today, the apocalyptic and the eschatological do mingle together. It’s important, however, to carefully distinguish between the two types of discourses so that we can avoid some classic mistakes that Christians have made through the years in discerning what these Scriptures mean for us today. Eschatological refers to the study of the eschata, or “last things,” things that occur at the end of existence. Whether that end is peaceful or is brought about by violent means, as in the destruction of the Temple which Jesus forecast, there is an inescapable finale to everything–to civilizations, to empires, as well as to our own lives. At some point in the future, we who live now will die. This is an eschatological fact. We do not know when this will happen, or how it will happen. We only know that it is unavoidable. The word apocalyptic, from the Greek apokalupto, means to reveal, uncover or unmask–not the meaning that it has acquired in current popular usage. The usage of apocalyptic literature in Scripture does not refer to a fiery ending of the world, but rather to the disclosure of a mystical knowledge, to the uncovering or discerning the revelation of God’s truth. Our culture, however, is utterly fascinated with the end of all things—especially after 9/11—and is thus too quick to assign eschatological significance to events and to Scriptures that do not warrant it. In 1988, for example, a book was published entitled 88 Reasons Why the World is Going to End in 1988. The author predicted the end of the world in fall of 1988, and listed the many signs for which one could look for confirmation. 1988 passed, so in 1989, the same author released a revised edition, 89 Reasons Why the World is Going to End in 1989. He claimed to have made a mathematical error in his calculations. The error, apparently, continues, as have all other predictions for the last 2,000 years by sometimes earnest and well-meaning believers who are obsessed with trying to figure out when the end of all things will occur, and what will happen when it does fall upon us. Well, here we are 2004; can you name four reasons why the world is going to end this year? I know that you can, and some of you do. Some of you will point to the results of our recent elections and decipher dire eschatological significance to it, and wonder if an escape to Canada, Barbados or some other safe haven would be in order. Of course, we know that if the results had swung in the Democrats’ favor, then many in the other half of the electorate would be heading to the hills, reading the results as a sign that portends unholy consequences upon us and the world. What would your other reasons for the end of the world be? Nuclear proliferation? Environmental degradation, especially global warming? World economic collapse? A terrorist-driven biological or chemical disaster? The Boston Red Sox winning? What’s going on, here? It would not be hard to find reasons for the world ending now, wouldn’t it? If I were to ask instead for you to name four reasons in 2004 why you as an individual could end this year, what would you say? Many here would cite heart attack, cancer or a respiratory ailment caused by the flu or pneumonia. Depending on where you live or other circumstances, you might cite violent murder, hypothermia, or AIDS. If you knew that you were going to end this year, how would then live? James Ashbrook, a minister and theologian, once wrote these words: I have been a cancer patient for more than 13 years. During that period I have had extensive treatments of radiation and chemotherapy, with excruciating side effects. Throughout this period I—and those closest to me—have fluctuated between unrealistic hope and impending doom. That psychic bind between hope and disaster erupts in varied ways: shall I buy a pair of shoes if I have only a few months left? Shall we remodel my study if I have only a few months remaining? Should I upgrade my computer in the face of an uncertain future? Why waste energy on new relationships if they are going to be cut off in the near future? Why bother working in the yard if there will not be another spring? And so the conflicting emotions rage! Why bother if the end is at hand? That question brings us back to the gospel lesson. What drives you to bother when the end is at hand is an apocalyptic vision that enables you to see the hand of God at work in the world and in you, even in the midst of tribulation and suffering. Jesus faithfully predicts that “nation will rise against nation…there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; there will be dreadful portents…” (v.10), and “…they will put some of you to death.” (v.16). But in that same doom and gloom speech, our Lord also comforts his disciples by saying, “Do not be terrified (v. 9)…not a hair on your head will perish (v.18), and by your endurance you will gain your souls. “(v.19) How can Jesus tell his disciples that not a hair on their head will be lost when in almost the same breath he says that some of them would be put to death? The answer is that when Jesus sees the eschatological end of times with all its sufferings, he also sees the apocalyptic breaking through of the kingdom of God. Even if one of his loved ones were mutilated and burned—and many were, as still today—no part of that Christian will die forever, for they would have “gained their souls,” or been resurrected to a new life. If, on the other hand, Christians fail to see the sacred in the individual and in the world, then those same Christians will have died even if they look alive. The difference is in being able to discern what God is doing, and then getting on board to participating with God in his agenda for the world. You “bother” to go on, in short, because God bothers! Thus Jesus, in our gospel lesson, is not so much talking eschatologically as he is apocalyptically. We don’t have to wait for the future to see the truth of Jesus’ statements; he is describing the world now. What Jesus describes as signs of the end time are happening now–and they have happened in every age: earthquakes, famines, disease, and persecutions. Jesus is not referring to another world to come, but a reality that is close at hand. “The kingdom of God is near,” meaning the reality of God’s vision for the world has already gained a foothold. God is present in the suffering of this world, and calls us to follow Jesus in being present with those who suffer. The real question, then, is not “When will it all end?” but rather “How do we live now?” Jesus is very clear on this: live for today, and let tomorrow take care of itself (Matt. 6:34), and be responsible in the here-and-now in whatever ways are appropriate, for “by your endurance you will gain your soul” (Luke 21:19). “The kingdom of God is near.” Can you see it? Do you want to see the kingdom? It’s right here, my brothers and sisters. It’s around us, in front of us, above us, and in us. If you do not see God working in this troubled world to set it right, and if you do see God working on your behalf in your own life, then pray for the eyes of faith, to be able to “see” as Jesus sees. The kingdom of God is near! Amen. |