This
sermon was not supposed to happen. I mean, it’s Sunday and all so I get how
this works. Once every seven days I’m supposed to and say things from a pulpit,
but this time it was in doubt. I don’t know how much each of you heard, but the
world was supposed to end on December 21 like the Mayans predicted; it
was as sure a thing as a Vikings season ending with disappointment. And never
mind that the end of the Mayan calendar had much more to do with their
understanding of the renewal of creation than with an apocalypse; that’s not
nearly as good of a story. The world was supposed to end on December 21. I read
it in Newsweek.
Honestly,
I was wondering why the malls were so busy in the lead-up to Christmas.
Apparently, nobody told those people that Christmas was not coming; instead, we
were going to have fire and brimstone and the four horsemen of the apocalypse
and all of that jazz. Anyway, you can imagine my shock when the 21st
came and passed and here we still are and here is this sermon being preached. I
claim false advertising.
Of course, this is neither the first, nor the last, nor the most convincing, nor the most outlandish claim that the end of the world is near. It is just another in a long line, and there’s a reason everybody still went out and shopped for Christmas presents on Black Friday and piled them under the tree. Few of us truly believed it. Most of us know it is unlikely for the world to up and end in our lifetimes, and even if it does it will have far more to do with our failure in caring for the earth, or our failure in preventing catastrophic war, than it will with Mayan calendars or would-be prophets.
Of course, this is neither the first, nor the last, nor the most convincing, nor the most outlandish claim that the end of the world is near. It is just another in a long line, and there’s a reason everybody still went out and shopped for Christmas presents on Black Friday and piled them under the tree. Few of us truly believed it. Most of us know it is unlikely for the world to up and end in our lifetimes, and even if it does it will have far more to do with our failure in caring for the earth, or our failure in preventing catastrophic war, than it will with Mayan calendars or would-be prophets.
All
this whole end-of-the-world hysteria does is tell us something important about
human beings: we are selfish and ignorant to our core. I don’t say this
lightly. We are people who put ourselves before God, and certainly before
future generations, in the ignorant hope of the end-of-the-world, and we do so
honestly believing that standing before God will be a pleasant experience.
Moses saw God from behind and that was enough to scare him straight, Mary
received a vision of an angel and her first response was fear, and those were
the better experiences scripture tells us of encountering God’s presence. So
how on earth can we look forward to experiencing God face to face when our
heroes in the Bible find it something to fear? We are incredibly ignorant if we
think we are better prepared for the final day than Moses or Mary.
As
it turns out, we have a great witness to the end of the world, and—again,
appropriately—he shows up in the reading this week as we meander through the
Christmas season. Traditionally, the season of Advent has been about preparing
not just for a Jesus’ birth but also about preparing for his coming again with the
end of this world. So, here we are in the Christmas season and—believe it or
not—it is the end of the world. At least it is for Simeon.
Simeon
is one of these characters in the Bible who you will miss if you blink. This is
it for Simeon on the center stage. Just one time seeing Jesus, just one
opportunity to speak his peace, and then he’s out of the picture. Simeon’s song
is called the “Nunc dimittis” which is a Latin phrase for “Now you are
dismissing us” because those are the words that begin the song. It’s a rather melancholy
way to begin. Simeon is saying that he can (and will) now die because he has
seen the Savior of the world. His life has been building to this moment, this
one encounter with a baby in the temple. Simeon does not live to see the cross
or the resurrection and certainly not Christ’s return; all he gets is a baby in
the temple, and that is enough.
As
Simeon says, his eyes have seen his salvation: Ye-shua, Jesus; “God saves” in
Aramaic. Simeon has seen salvation, and he can die now in peace. Of course, he
hasn’t seen the full story, but he has seen all that he needs to see.
I hope it’s evident how preposterous it is, then, for the rest of us to think
we are worthy to see the completion of salvation in our earthly lives. How
selfish are we to assume we are the people to whom Christ will return? The baby
Jesus came to those who were selfless guardians, watchers for the
messiah—shepherds and men like Simeon and women like Anna. Who are we compared
with them? And they were satisfied with just a taste, just a moment, just a
glimpse of God’s kingdom in that child. Why do we want the whole she-bang?
Mostly,
I think our infatuation with the apocalypse has to do with our fear of death.
Unlike Simeon, we don’t welcome death after a glimpse of the messiah; we run
from it. It says a lot about us that we would rather experience the horrors of
the world’s end than deal with our mortality in the same way that every person
in the history of the world has. We long for this whole life to be swallowed up
so that the fears associated with death are no more, but in-so-doing we turn in
on ourselves rather than turning toward God. Here’s what I mean: If the world
ended today we would be depriving future generations of the gift of life that
we so cherish. If the world ended today we would have no opportunity to plant
trees, to nurture gardens, to spread God’s word, to laugh, and to spread
laughter. That is not to say that the new creation won’t be better still, but
if we are honestly assured of what will come, why not spend more time promoting
life here while we still can?
I
get it. It seems faithful and good to want new creation now, but it’s also
short-sighted. There is a lot of work to be done, a lot of life to share, a lot
of experiences to gain. When the end does finally come we will be judged not on
whether we knew the date or time of Christ’s coming again—scripture already
tells us we won’t[1]—but on the life we have
lived down here, and, more importantly, on the sacrifice God made on our behalf.
All have fallen short of the glory of God; we are all in need of redemption.
Some perspective is needed. It doesn’t matter if the world ends tomorrow or in
four billion years, God’s kingdom will come to us all the same.
In
the meantime we are called to live like Simeon, waiting for the messiah in hope
and satisfied finally to see just a little bit, just a piece of the puzzle that
will be our ultimate redemption. That’s all any of us really get. Just a bit.
You can either desperately long for more or be satisfied enough with a taste.
Neither way will usher in the kingdom any sooner, but one will help you live
better down here.
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