St. Gregory’s Church Woodstock

Sunday, 30 November 2008, First Advent

The Rev’d Susan Auchincloss
 

Mark 13:24-37

For today’s reading go to: http://bible.oremus.org

 

            Today’s Gospel reading brings to our ears a major theme in the biblical symphony.  I say biblical, because it is not confined to the New Testament, but it is heard in the Hebrew Bible as well.  In fact, it can be heard in Islam.  The theme is called apocalyptic, a Greek word, meaning something hidden that was uncovered or unveiled.  This morning I want, first, to describe the general features of apocalyptic writing, then look at the specific example that today’s reading puts before us, called the Second Coming; and then ask the question what does it mean?  The answer to that question amounts to a watershed, dividing Christians into two streams.  It remains an open question whether both streams actually reach the ocean.

            In the Hebrew Bible we find examples of apocalyptic writing in the book of Ezekiel and the book of Daniel, among others.  In the New Testament we find it in Jesus’ teachings, in the Epistles, and most famously in the book of Revelation, otherwise known as the Apocalypse.  Characteristics of apocalyptic literature include dreams or visions, angelic messengers, fantastic imagery, foretelling of the future, mysterious symbolism, specified durations of time, and judgment with subsequent punishment or reward.  Another common feature may mark apocalyptic writing; that is, a particular individual, an end-time ruler who is singled out for God’s wrath; who is called among other things, the Beast or the Antichrist.  Among Christians, the Second Coming is the great apocalyptic event, signaling chiefly three things: the end of time, the judgment of the world, and the ushering in of a new heaven and a new earth.

            In general, interpretations of apocalyptic writing divide into two streams.  One stream springs from the view that the Bible is speaking straight history and should be read at the literal level.  Among this group, you may be familiar with the immensely popular “Left Behind” books.  Perhaps you will fault me for passing judgment on something I have never read.  Nevertheless, the premise of these books appalls me, as a travesty of our faith.  Martin Smith, formerly the Superior of the Episcopal Society of St. John the Evangelist, writes, “What is horrifying is that so many religious people can contemplate the eternal torments of billions with such calmness....  torture that can never end as God’s eternal work...!”  Smith cites medieval theologians who proposed that awareness of the sufferings of the damned in hell actually enhances the joy of the saints in heaven.  We want to cry out, if those be the saints, put me with the damned in hell.

            I said that interpretations of apocalyptic writing divide into two streams.  The second, the metaphorical, stands in contrast to the literal.  As you know, spiritual realities cannot be spoken of directly, but only indirectly through images, symbols, parables and metaphors.  It is said of spiritual leaders: those who know don’t speak and those who speak don’t know.  Jesus did know, and he did speak, albeit indirectly, because, out of sheer love for us, he had to try something to wake us up.  So he cried out, the kingdom of God is at hand!  The kingdom of God is among you!  Open your eyes to life’s sheer abundance!  Seize the pearl of great price!  Open your ears; hear now the music of eternal life!  So much of what reads like a different time or a different place in the New Testament really means this very time and this very place, but transfigured.

            For instance, let’s go back to the Second Coming, the great apocalyptic event for Christians.  Think about its three chief elements and see if they do not make more sense as an inner reality, rather than as an historical event.  First, the Second Coming speaks of the end of time.  On the mountain of the transfiguration, can you imagine the disciples glancing at their watches, so to speak?  Haven’t we experienced something similar, for instance, listening to Bach’s Mass in B Minor?  In it the consecration of a whole life transfigures time into eternity!  Or standing in front of Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son,” our hearts almost stop, feeling the father’s tenderness.  Is it too much to say we have had a foretaste of eternity, of the end of time as we know it?

            Next, the Second Coming speaks about judgment.  To judge means to evaluate.  When Jesus walked out of the wilderness after forty days of fasting and prayer, judgment had taken place.  He had evaluated his life, deciding what had meaning and led to lasting, genuine happiness.  The rest he let go.  Thanks to this time of judgment, his mission became clear.  Judgment in this sense is not foreign to us.  A transfiguring spiritual experience does tend to separate us from the life we have known – as if we were born again.

            Finally, the Second Coming entails a new heaven and a new earth.  How else could you speak about it if you had been with Peter, James and John on the mountain of the transfiguration?  When you came back down to level land would it seem like the same old world you had left, or would it seem strangely, mysteriously new?  When we have had a profound spiritual experience, though it takes place inwardly, can’t we best describe it outwardly – for instance, as “a whole new universe!”?   

            I am making the case for a metaphorical understanding of the Second Coming.  The case gets stronger when you take into account the Greek word for ‘coming,’ perusia.  Perusia can also be translated ‘presence’ – thus, the Second Presence.  Doesn’t ‘presence’ correspond better to our lived experience?  Countless generations have lived and died without experiencing the Second Coming; but in every generation many people have experienced the Second Presence.  If we take the Second Coming, not literally, but as a description of what happens to us when we are filled with the Holy Spirit,  then Jesus’ comparison to the fig tree in spring makes perfect sense.  The Second Presence does feel like a gentle, up-welling of new life.

            So is it the Second Coming or the Second Presence?  Is it the cataclysm or the fresh green shoots of spring?  For too long the world has seen the Christian church as the church of guilt, condemnation and fear – the cataclysmic church.  Apocalyptic writing in the New Testament, as commonly interpreted, has supported this view, with the result that genuine spiritual seekers look elsewhere for a framework to support their religious life.  But Christianity has another face.  Christianity can take us as high as we have the courage to go, and there are great heights beyond that.  Our religion is meant to serve as an updraft, capable of drawing every dimension of our human experience toward clouds of glory.