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The Rev. Clare Fischer-Davies

St. Martin’s Church

November 15, 2009

Proper 28 B

              Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last six months or so, you’ve seen a trailer for the movie 2012, which opened on Friday. It’s the latest example of what one critic recently labeled “apocalypse porn”. I thought that was a great way to sum up this particular genre of movies that brings the world to an end with lots of computer generated special effects, but not with very much else. As far as I can tell, 2012 doesn’t have much in the way of plot or fully developed characters - it’s just an excuse to find more and more spectacular ways to kill more and more teeny little CGI people - look! St. Peter’s Basilica is collapsing! Look! An aircraft carrier is crashing into the White House!

              You know, it’s a pretty sad apocalypse when you don’t even know or care why it’s happening. And the apocalypse porn of 2012 could not be farther from the understanding of apocalypse that informs what Jesus tells his disciples in the Gospel of Mark.  “Apocalypse” has a very specific meaning in Greek - it means revelation, and more specifically still, the revelation of something that has been hidden to just a chosen few. Lots of things are going to happen to lots of people, but only a few people are going to be able to understand what it all means.

              Notice that Jesus is speaking, not to all of his disciples, but just to Peter, James, John and Andrew. And notice, too that in the eight verses that make up the lesson this morning, Jesus doesn’t really get into specifics - all of that is still to come. Right now, he’s just giving his inner circle the build up - telling them that it’s going to be hard to tell the false from the true, that lots of bad stuff is going to start happening, and then says cryptically, “This is just the beginning of the birth pangs.”

              What makes an apocalypse an apocalypse is not what happens, or even who it happens to. What makes it an apocalypse is that something is revealed - and that people who have faith will find something in that apocalypse that people without faith will not find. It’s almost like faith is a set of 3D glasses that equip the folks wearing those glasses to see things that are otherwise hidden from view. 

              This is our apocalyptic time of year. The long season after Pentecost is drawing to a close - we only have one more Sunday, and then the great wheel of the Church Year swings around to the beginning and we start all over with the first Sunday of Advent. At least in the northern hemisphere it’s also the waning of the natural year - the nights are long, the days are short, the trees have all lost their leaves. Signs of endings are all around us, and as our old Christian year gives way to the new, we are thinking about the ultimate end - the end of all things. Or at least the end of things as we know them.

              And that’s an important distinction. In the Christian faith and life, endings are never the end. What God does for us in Christ is to destroy the power of death so that it no longer has dominion over us. That certainly doesn’t mean that Christians don’t die - but it does mean that death - any death - is never the last word. So even though things as we know them may end, it’s not the end of all things - it can never be the end of all things - because all things begin and end in God. God is our Alpha and our Omega - our beginning and our ending.

              So something about those 3D glasses that we put on as people of faith allows us to have hope and confidence in the future even as the world seems to be collapsing around us. And we don’t have to be in the middle of an apocalypse porn movie to feel like the world really is collapsing.

              I’ve read more than one essay over this last year suggesting that our financial system is never going to be the same again. And I’ve read other articles talking about how everything from international diplomacy to the art of war, from how health care is delivered to how the church functions - none of these things can operate the way they used to. The world is volatile, complex and chaotic but what the Christian faith and life affirms is that God’s goodness prevails even the midst of total destruction. And one reason to be part of a community of faith is to gather to be reminded of that goodness - to remind each other, to be strengthened and to offer strength, to put on our 3D glasses and remember that the future belongs to God.

              Back when Lindsay was still a seminarian, she wrote a piece for the magazine published by Trinity Church Wall Street. She called it “Ten Things To Do While Waiting for the Second Coming.” Lindsay attached it to her resume when we talking to each other in the search process, and I liked it so much I saved it. And every so often, as I struggle with my own difficulties remembering that the future belongs to God, I like to read Lindsay’s list.

              So - in the spirit of the anti-apocalypse - I’m going to share that list with you, having tweaked it a little so that it’s just as much my list as Lindsay’s. There are some ways we can live that reveal that we trust the future to God, and living in those ways will be of benefit to us no matter what is happening around us, and now matter how long we have to wait for God’s full glory to be revealed.

• Be a pilgrim. That means pick a destination that means something to you, and journey towards that destination mindfully, open to surprises along the way. Being a pilgrim always means that the journey is more important than the destination - that how we get somewhere is more important then when, or even if.
• Eat ice cream. Lindsay reminds us that just one spoonful triggers the part of the brain that activates when people enjoy themselves. I think that God is glorified when we enjoy ourselves - when we celebrate the goodness of creation. We have a lot of Puritan DNA in us that is suspicious of pleasure, but I think God made us to enjoy the world and to enjoy each other.
• Be a minister. This has nothing to do with wearing a funny white plastic collar and everything to do with being baptized. Do something that honors your baptismal covenant to seek and serve Christ in others. It will make you feel better than you can imagine.
• Plant a tree. There is deep meaning in planting something that will stand long after we are dust. It is a powerful way to affirm that we know the future belongs to God.
• Look beyond the soup kitchen. We know that we serve Christ when we serve others and our work with the soup kitchen and the Cloak are important - but there are also ways to be part of God’s work to transform society. That’s some of what Pete Nunnally was talking about last week - and wouldn’t it be an adventure to be part of that kind of community development here in Providence?
• Reconcile. In Lindsay’s words “contract estranged relatives and slighted prom dates.” Begin the work of forgiveness by offering it to others and receiving it yourself. I have recent personal experience with this and there is some powerful juju in those simple words “I’m sorry.” Reconciliation is what we’re all about. It’s a big part of the 3D glasses way of seeing the word.
• Read the bible. It’s a pity that we’ve surrendered our Scriptures to fundamentalists, who tell us we can’t read the bible unless we believe exactly what they tell us to believe about it. Don’t let them get away with it. The bible is an incredible repository of wisdom, song, poetry, prophecy – all telling one story – that God has made us in God’s own image and called us to be a covenant, reconciling people. Find a translation that doesn’t make it sound like a dusty law book and plunge yourself into the greatest story ever told.
• Tithe. Yes - Lindsay wrote that as an impoverished seminarian. She said “it’s an ancient Christian practice that can transform your sense of community and ideas of what really belongs to God.” When the world starts crumbling around us, I guess it does tempt us to hold on more tightly to what’s in our grasp - but you know, even in apocalypse-porn there’s usually one scene where someone is saved from a spectacular death by at the last minute releasing her grip on whatever she’s clinging to, and taking the risk of grabbing onto the hero’s offered hand. Think of tithing as letting go of the railing just as the building crumbles, and grabbing onto Jesus instead.
• Make something. Sing a song, draw a picture, mess around with glass tiles, be in a play, write a poem. Do something that has absolutely no purpose except that it’s beautiful and you did it. Let God’s creative self flow into and through you and out into something you never dreamed you could do.
• And finally Lindsay ends: “join life. Pray ceaselessly. Go skinny-dipping. Sing boldly in the shower and in church. Waiting for the second coming shouldn’t be about cowering in fear of a terrifying future event.”

              This is just the beginning of the birth pangs. We live in a complex, volatile, chaotic world that’s never going to go back to the way it was. These are times that can fill people with fear, can send them running to whatever they think will make them feel safe for just a little longer, times that can make other people cruel and spiteful, selfish and unkind. These are times that make some people think that they can save themselves by hurting others. These are times that make it very hard for people to trust each other, to live in community with one another and to celebrate the goodness and mercy of God.

              Put on your 3D glasses. Remember that even though things as we know them may end, it can never be the end of all things.