'Its not the end of the world'

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford

2^nd Sunday before Advent

Mark 13:1-8

Brothers and sisters, my theme today is the end of the world. You may be thinking that I am attending to the end of the world because it seems to be much closer. With all that is happening in Syria, in Iraq, and, yes, now much closer to home in France, and with our awareness that there are plenty of other places of violence and horror which too rarely make it into our news (I mention Nigeria and Sudan in passing), with all of this (and even some stormy weather to add to the atmosphere), we may well feel we are entering the last days. But in fact I am not starting from there. Rather, I am coming to this theme from today's gospel.

Brothers and sisters, we have problem. It is a twofold problem. It's this: Jesus speaks to us about the end of the world, and he tells us some things about it. First, it is worth pointing out that Jesus speaks about the end of the world at all. It need not have been this way. There are plenty of religions and ways of life which do not refer to the end of the world. To overgeneralise, we might say that Eastern faiths either say nothing of the end of world – they see the universe as within an eternal cycle without end – or they insist that the end will come about at a point so impossibly distant that it makes no conceivable difference to us.

But Jesus does speak of the end of the world. Indeed, it may be fair to say Jesus speaks of the end of the world more than any other founder of a world religion. When he says (in another place) that this generation will not pass away before all these things come to pass, he seems to be saying that the end is near. And that has been one recurring view in Christianity ever since. The end is near, but has somehow been mysteriously delayed, for a bit of time, and then another bit of time, and another.

But it's actually worse. Because Jesus actually does tell us something about the nature of the end, but not much. And we all know (don't we?) that a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing. He tells us or seems to tell us that around or before the end things will get worse: 'For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.'

What is this saying? Well, I don't know. But let us note what this rules out. It rules out a naïve optimism. Christians are not optimists. We are, let me stress, bearers of hope. We have hope for the world, because of our conviction about the character of Gd. But hope is different from optimism. It is not that we are claiming that if you look really hard, all people are really nice, and the world is getting better, progressing day by day, or century by century. So we reject the idea of 'linear progress' (things inevitably getting better and better). So if it ever were a choice between thinking the end will come when human beings have perfected human living, or the end will come when things come to a final crisis, then (sadly, you may say), Christians would plump for the latter.

But, if we are not optimists, if we recognise that things may and will get worse, what then can we say about the end? Brothers and sisters, I will be frank: I think it is very little.

The trouble with knowing only a little about the end of the world, and that little being that things will get worse is just this: it always applies. There is always going to be a case for saying that things are getting worse. It is something ingrained in human beings, perhaps. We just don't find it natural to say 'people are much kinder/nicer/holier/more peaceful now than when I was young.' We do find it plausible to say that young people today are much more badly behaved than we were, and so on. And there are always wars, rumours or wars, terror and rumours of terrorism, and earthquakes and famines around, which can be treated not only as painful tragedies, but as 'signs'.

Jesus himself also says that he – he, Jesus, the Son - does not know the hour which marks the end. If he does not know, then we need not worry that we do not know. It is true that there are two books in the Bible which do seem to set out times and seasons and signs and codes and so on, encouraging us to decode the imagery. There is Daniel in the Old, the Original Testament (as today), and there is Revelation in the New. But these, we might just say, are something like the exceptions that prove the rule.

So I am saying (1) that we don't know when the end of the world will come, and in almost all ways it is none of our business. I am saying (2) it can be a good thing that Jesus associates the end with things getting worse, as that's a corrective to any idea that human beings are progressing from one degree of niceness to another. I am saying (3) that Jesus speaks of the end of the world, as a way of reminding us that the universe has a purpose. It is not all chaos and randomness, but Gd is, according to Gd's good timing, working Gd's purposes out. And I am saying (4) one more thing. For us, here and now, we are, as it were, in the last days in this respect: this is the only mortal life we here will have. This is the only generation we ourselves have to welcome the Kingdom. We are called to live it to the full. We are called to find our purpose and gifts and uniqueness within this world, this life, here. It is a good thing if we feel an urgency about what we do with our lives.

This might actually free us from worrying about the signs of the end of the whole universe. Apparently, John Wesley was once asked what he would do if he was told without any doubt that the world would end at the close of the day. In reply, he got out his diary and went through his appointments. And there's a different but related point from the Jewish tradition. It says: if you are told that the Messiah has come while you are planting a tree, first plant your tree, and only then go and greet the Messiah. The point is it does not matter when the world ends, when it comes to knowing how to live. We are to live well, whether the world lasts for three days, three years, or three billion centuries.

But how to live well? In these days of war and terror and rumours or wars and terrors, it is unlikely we can be free of all anxiety. But even today, when we are faced with the horrors of Beirut and Paris, some things are not negotiable. We are to love our enemies. We are to bless and not to curse. I think that bears repetition: we are to love our enemies; we are to bless and not to curse. So indeed let me say – and this is not easy to say: Gd bless all terrorists! But – and this is vital or you will mishear me - please remember that to call down Gd's blessing upon a person is not to wish that their lives are full of comfort, ease, and success. Rather, Gd's blessing takes the form of Gd meeting with that person, and giving them what they most need, including challenge, hard truths and consequence. But that in turn is not a subtle way of saying we can be vindictive deep down. We cannot. We are called to love. Which isn't to be soft, but to actively resist hatred.

If that sounds impossible, well, I agree: it is humanly impossible, like much in the Christian life. Which is why Gd's grace is never optional. It is also the only possible hope for peace in our time, whatever the wars and terrors and rumours we face, however long or short a time we have. Amen.