We are
living in a time of great insecurity and many of us are afraid.
Only a fortnight ago we watched with horror images of the carnage
Islamic State terrorists wreaked in Paris. They brought home to us in Europe a
little of what people in Syria and Iraq have been suffering. This is the latest
manifestation of the bitter conflict between Sunni and Shia Islamic traditions
that has been devastating the Middle East for more than a generation, since the
Iran-Iraq war began in 1980.
One consequence has been millions of people displaced as refugees. Most
live in camps inside the countries affected, or in neighbouring countries,
which struggle to feed and house them with insufficient help from the global
community. More and more refugees have given up hope of a decent life where
they are, or of ever returning home in safety. These are the hundreds of
thousands of men, women and children we have seen this year, travelling to find
sanctuary in Europe, crammed into unsafe boats, drowned on Mediterranean
beaches, trudging along railway lines and motorways, or camped in make-shift
reception centres. We have not seen such movements of people in Europe since
the end of WW2. They are desperate, they are determined, they are unstoppable –
we cannot push them back into the sea, nor can we shoot at them until they go
away.
As European citizens we are worried how we will feed and house so
many, and what social changes they will bring. Since most of them are Muslim –
though many are Christian – extreme nationalism and Islamophobia are on the
rise. Increasingly we hear strident voices claiming refugees are probably Islamic
terrorists, and that Islam is an irredeemable religion of violence. Yet for all but a tiny
percentage of Muslims, Islam is a religion of peace. Just like us, they want to
make a decent living, raise their families in peace, and contribute to the communities
they live in. Before we demonise Islam, let us remember the European Wars of
Religion at the time of the Reformation, when Catholic fought Protestant in
bloody conflicts that lasted for more than a century. Does that make our Christianity a religion of violence?
And then there is the crisis of climate change. We know that to
avert the worst effects we will have to make great changes in how we live now.
But we do not yet understand what those changes will be, so we are afraid of
what we may have to give up, and at the same time we are afraid of the world
our descendants will inherit if we do not change.
No wonder we worry about the future – our own, our children’s, our grandchildren’s, and if we are lucky our great-grandchildren's. We are afraid, and I think we are right to be. We are
living in apocalyptic times.
Luke records Jesus
speaking of apocalypse in today’s Gospel reading (Luke 21:25-36).
‘There
will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress
among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and waves’, Jesus says. ‘People will faint
from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of
the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in a
cloud” with power and great glory.’
The original meaning of the Greek word ‘apocalypse’ is a prophetic
disclosure, a revelation, though in modern English we now usually mean a great
catastrophe that results in widespread destruction or the collapse of
civilisation.
Jesus’s words are a prophetic disclosure, an apocalypse in the
original sense. They are in a literary tradition reaching back into OT times - “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” is
actually a quotation from the apocalyptic Book of Daniel. The tradition reaches
forward to the NT book we call Revelation. And from there through medieval
visions of the last judgement, to modern science fiction fantasies of disaster.
Is Jesus forecasting in these words that the world will end in
catastrophic violence, an apocalypse in the modern sense? There are Christian
fundamentalists who look forward to the second coming of Christ amid awful
battles and destruction in the end-time. They may believe so, but I don’t. They
take scripture too literally, and I think they are deeply, deeply misguided. Rather
I suggest that Jesus intended his words to apply to every time, not just to
an end-time.
Perhaps his parable is a clue: ‘Look at the fig
tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for
yourselves and know that summer is near.’ Trees sprout new leaves every year – the image is of something
that happens again and again, not just once at the end.
And it is true, isn’t it, that every generation is faced with its
own apocalyptic fears. We may be terrified by terrorism and the refugee crisis, and of the consequences of climate change. But my parents were haunted by the horror and destruction of total war and
nuclear holocaust. Their parents suffered the horrors of the trenches followed
by bloody rebellion and fratricidal civil war. And every previous generation
has lived through its own nightmares – famines, plagues, wars and social
collapse.
Jesus tells us to read clearly the frightening signs of the times,
but his message is surely one of hope as we confront our fears - hope for us
and for every generation that hears his words. ‘So
also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God
is near.’ Even if these things are terrifying. ‘Stand up and raise your heads’, he
tells us, ‘because your redemption is drawing near’.
The basis of our hope is
the miracle of the Incarnation.
This is the first day of Advent, the time each year when we look
forward to the Incarnation; the miracle that God has chosen to be part of the
world he created, our world; the miracle that God has taken on our flesh in a
stunning act of solidarity with his creatures. We wait in expectation for the
kingdom of God and our redemption to come near.
On Christmas day Jesus will be born as the helpless baby son of Mary
and Joseph into a frightening world. A Roman imperial decree forces his parents
to travel from their home to Bethlehem. There they find no shelter but a stable
in which Mary gives birth. And soon they will be forced to flee as refugees
from Herod’s violent wrath. Mary and Joseph have to confront their own fears
just as we must.
But through the eyes of faith we will see this helpless child grow
up to be ‘“the Son of Man coming in a cloud” with
power and great glory’, who announces the kingdom of God and
promises us redemption. ‘Heaven and earth
will pass away’, he says,
‘but my words
will not pass away’.
Jesus urges us, ‘Be alert at all
times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that
will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.’ It is
through praying that we will find the strength and confidence to endure - and we
may hope avert - the worst the future can bring, so that we can stand fearlessly
in front of our God in his Kingdom.
So I shall finish with a prayer:
Loving Father,
Who sent your Son Jesus Christ
to proclaim your kingdom
and restore the broken to fullness of life:
Look with compassion on the anguish of the world and of your
people;
Give us the strength to overcome our fears
And to stand before the Son of Man;
Through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer.
Amen