Beginning and Endings
Yesterday, I went to see the special effects laden movie, "2012" -- in which the viewer is treated to a two hour smorgasbord of destruction and mayhem, in which the world as we know it comes to an end. The earth's crust shifts and tears. Tsunamis crash. The infrastructures of a civilization built on its technological prowess are obliterated. And for all of the apocalyptic mayhem, at the end of the movie, the writers cannot help but hope in the power of humanity to survive -- to rebuild, restore and repopulate the earth all over again.
I was particularly intrigued by one scene in which thousands have gathered at the Vatican for a last ditch, desperate prayer meeting. The Pope leads the public service from his balcony. The College of Cardinals are praying fervently in the Sistine Chapel. Suddenly the ominous rumbling of an earthquake is heard, The shaking begins. The cracks in the ceiling appear. Predictably, one crack carves a path right through the space between the finger of God and the finger of Adam. The entire ceiling collapses onto the the clergy below. Then, the dome of St. Peter's itself topples and rolls over the panicked crowd like a gargantuan bowling ball.
The message seems to be clear. When the end of this world comes, not even God can save us. Prayers are a waste of time. Trust in the human spirit. Have faith in a technological solution. Somehow, we will survive by our own ingenuity (and a healthy dose of Darwinian luck) alone.
Tonight, as the first day of Advent draws to a close, I can only think of the very different message we Christians have to offer. Our tradition tells us that the world is passing away -- maybe not in the stunning way film directors can imagine, but passing away nonetheless. Bit by bit. Species by species. Moment by moment. Breath by breath. A time to be born. A time to die.
Our tradition tells us that the God who opened the book on creation will, in God's own time, close the book as well. And when the fullness of time comes, no amount of technological whirligigs will afford a way out. And yet, confronted with the consummation of creation in what the Hebrew prophets called "The Day of the Lord", Christians proclaim a hope -- the hope that even in the End there will be a New Beginning. Our task in the meantime is to keep alert and keep awake; guard our hearts and our minds; stay faithful to the Good News of God in Christ.
We wait. We watch. We work. We pray. The old is passing away. The new beginning is here already. The new beginning is already on its way. A blessed Advent to all!
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. -- Collect for the First Sunday of Advent
Yesterday, I went to see the special effects laden movie, "2012" -- in which the viewer is treated to a two hour smorgasbord of destruction and mayhem, in which the world as we know it comes to an end. The earth's crust shifts and tears. Tsunamis crash. The infrastructures of a civilization built on its technological prowess are obliterated. And for all of the apocalyptic mayhem, at the end of the movie, the writers cannot help but hope in the power of humanity to survive -- to rebuild, restore and repopulate the earth all over again.
I was particularly intrigued by one scene in which thousands have gathered at the Vatican for a last ditch, desperate prayer meeting. The Pope leads the public service from his balcony. The College of Cardinals are praying fervently in the Sistine Chapel. Suddenly the ominous rumbling of an earthquake is heard, The shaking begins. The cracks in the ceiling appear. Predictably, one crack carves a path right through the space between the finger of God and the finger of Adam. The entire ceiling collapses onto the the clergy below. Then, the dome of St. Peter's itself topples and rolls over the panicked crowd like a gargantuan bowling ball.
The message seems to be clear. When the end of this world comes, not even God can save us. Prayers are a waste of time. Trust in the human spirit. Have faith in a technological solution. Somehow, we will survive by our own ingenuity (and a healthy dose of Darwinian luck) alone.
Tonight, as the first day of Advent draws to a close, I can only think of the very different message we Christians have to offer. Our tradition tells us that the world is passing away -- maybe not in the stunning way film directors can imagine, but passing away nonetheless. Bit by bit. Species by species. Moment by moment. Breath by breath. A time to be born. A time to die.
Our tradition tells us that the God who opened the book on creation will, in God's own time, close the book as well. And when the fullness of time comes, no amount of technological whirligigs will afford a way out. And yet, confronted with the consummation of creation in what the Hebrew prophets called "The Day of the Lord", Christians proclaim a hope -- the hope that even in the End there will be a New Beginning. Our task in the meantime is to keep alert and keep awake; guard our hearts and our minds; stay faithful to the Good News of God in Christ.
We wait. We watch. We work. We pray. The old is passing away. The new beginning is here already. The new beginning is already on its way. A blessed Advent to all!
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. -- Collect for the First Sunday of Advent
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