Apocalyptic Pills

The last couple weeks of Ordinary Time and the first couple weeks of Advent feature what we call the “apocalyptic literature” of the Bible. The consummate example of this is the book once known as "The Apocalypse of St. John," more recently called “Revelation.” This style of writing employed an intense imagery and rhetoric to depict the battle going on between God and His celestial enemies. The immediate audience were Christians who were fighting their own battles with enemy nations, especially Rome, the granddaddy of oppressors. The voice of God rose clearly above the din to assure his besieged beloved that He was in charge, that victory would be theirs, and their current anguish would be alleviated.

Apocalyptic literature has been compared to painkillers like Vicodin or Percocet: in the prescribed doses they provide needed relief for seriously distressed people. For those who aren't really in that kind of pain–perhaps, in the spiritual realm, those who only imagine they’re being persecuted–the apocalyptic mindset usually ends up more harmful. It gets them loaded, and makes them lose touch with reality. It can even make them very hard to be around, a challenge to support.

Consider the events of the past week. I don't mean the death of Mrs. T's founder Ted Twardzik or of famed musician Leonard Cohen, as noteworthy as they are; I mean, as you might have guessed, the presidential election. Our nation, and a few others besides, have been holding their breath before and since. Either “holding their breath,” or “hyperventilating”– I'm not really sure. If there's ever been a moment where people of every political stripe have been popping apocalyptic pills, it's now. Popping more and more of them, to less and less good effect. Division and fear rule more than their constituencies care to admit. No wonder the campaign sign for “Giant Meteor” was so popular! I wonder it if got any write-in votes.

In most situations, we’re not advised just to take medicines without attending to what we are currently capable of doing. Pain relief is supposed to promote freedom of movement, but abusers often end up inert or ineffective. St. Paul told the Thessalonians, “If anyone was unwilling to work, neither should that one eat.” Work, with a sense of purpose and direction. The Catholic principle of subsidiarity says that no person or force should do for another what they can do for themselves. More and more it seems that this is a tall order, and the culture of death makes hearts smaller. Forward movement today will require perseverance, by which, St. Paul says, we will secure our lives.

The Lord has not promised a placid and carefree existence, nor does He keep anyone from sowing willful division in their relationships. Jesus spoke His words today as a prediction, and we can see how they have played out. Either way, they are not pleasing to the ears. We must ask: is God God or not? Has Jesus conquered sin, suffering, and death or not? And what’s more, does He not offer us the grace to participate in that victory by, as He put it, “giving testimony”—courageously raising our voices or pens or typing fingers, or raising our hands in prayer or virtuous action, against injustice? By seeking to learn and spread the truth? By loving the unlovable in everyone, and even ourselves, enough to help them recognize the freedom to change?

Apocalypse Eventually

First, a commercial for a brother priest in the blogosphere, "A Concord Pastor Comments." Fr. Austin Fleming offers daily prayers in print and audio. This link takes you to today's post, a prayer for the victims of the Philippines' Typhoon Haiyan. This link enables you to make a donation toward the efforts of Catholic Relief Services.

Second, a reflection on today's readings: selections from the "apocalyptic" genre. The sacred writers of apocalyptic works (e.g. later prophets, Revelation) used startling imagery and strange expressions to give hope to persecuted people. One commentator, Jesuit Father Jim Harbaugh, considers apocalyptic a strong pain-relieving medication for the soul. If you take too much of this medicine, especially when you're not in such grave pain, you can start to "need" it when you really don't--feel like you're being persecuted when you really aren't.

Consider the excitement over various apparitions, locutions, etc. Pope Francis had something to say just the other day about this craze. Now, we clearly affirm the numerous apparitions that have gained ecclesiastical recognition. Most apparitions contain nothing contradictory to the Faith, and indeed emphasize the "basics" of repentance and prayer, the unique role of Our Lady in the divine plan; but the Scriptures, Catechism, and Liturgy have all the revelation I need. Knowing my personality, I could easily get caught up in extraordinary iterations; the ordinary does enough to me.

The prophet Malachi foretold the coming of the "Day of the Lord" in terms of an all-consuming fire that would reduce sinners to stubble but reflect well on the righteous. Jesus sternly warned about the destruction of the Temple and related upheavals on the national and family levels. Read such Scriptures out of context, add your own anxieties and fears, and you have a prescription for madness.

The key to understanding the first reading and Gospel often can be found in the second reading. Today, Paul addresses the Thessalonians, many of whom were caught up in the possibility that Jesus should return soon. In the face of rampant persecution by the Empire, the Second Coming was a welcome prospect! Unfortunately these people also prematurely withdrew from daily concerns, contributing nothing but grief to the larger community.

Addicts, self-centered people--to some extent, all of us--share the traits of "apocalypse junkies": a penchant for excitement ("drama"); preoccupation with our feelings, especially those we label "bad";  a desire to medicate (with food, alcohol, pornography, spending, even prayer at the expense of tangible needs!).  If everything is just "going to hell in a hand basket," why bother caring?

Instead of losing patience with how slowly events unfold and people change in this world, St. Paul suggests quiet and steadfast work: efforts of daily prayer and service, fidelity to worship and obedience to the Lord's commands. With a return to responsibilities, curiosities fade away.

Perhaps the clever insight of a modern humorist, (+)George Carlin, can illustrate the point: "Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don't have time for all that..."

Of course, we don't necessarily have to be employed; we just have to get out of ourselves. A friendly phone call, e-mail, or visit--or any spiritual or corporal work of mercy--is a great restorative that heals us as much as its intended recipient!

As with potato chips, one doesn't tend to suffice: hence Jesus' prescription for "perseverance" (Lk 21:19). One "I love you" doesn't count for the duration of a marriage, unless you want it to have Kardashian longevity. One workout doesn't render you physically fit. One prayer does not maintain communication with God until our last breath--unless, of course, we happen to be praying at our last breath.

It's one of many crazy paradoxes in our holy faith. We have to take it seriously, but take it easy.

Apocalypse Now!

The word “Advent” means “coming, arrival.”  God the Son first manifested Himself in human flesh, as the “just shoot” promised long ago to God’s holy people.  In the same moment we acknowledge the consummate administration of divine justice at the end of days.  Jeremiah’s talk of safety and security comes to us alongside Jesus’ predictions of nations in dismay, roaring seas, and death-inducing fright.

What gives?  

Saint Luke has recorded Jesus in the register of “apocalyptic,” which we know best from the Book of the Apocalypse (Revelation), but it is also found in several Gospel passages, and Hebrew prophets such as Daniel, Joel, and Zechariah.  Apocalyptic is a writing style marked by vivid, sensational imagery well suited for sci-fi or horror flicks.  It usually contains coded language that unintended, "enemy" audiences wouldn’t be able to decipher.  

But apocalyptic is meant to be more than a good summer beach novel.  Its original audience wasn’t on holiday; it was being persecuted!  They appreciated divine encouragement.  They also needed exhortations to fidelity amid temptations to desertion.  Above all, God wanted them to know that their steadfastness was not futile.  Their enemies were doomed to the very destruction they were seeking to inflict.  For example: Daniel wrote to reassure the Jews who were suffering the madness of the Syrian king, Antiochus Epiphanes.  Saint John’s visions assured the early Christians under Rome’s thumb that they would survive that “evil empire,” and many others besides.

Apocalyptic literature is all about “getting sober,” that is to say, acquiring the divine perspective on human affairs.  Hear again Our Lord’s words in Luke: “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day [of the Lord’s coming] catch you by surprise like a trap.”  

The necessary virtue is vigilance: staying in the present moment, staying out of the drama of the end-times (and, for that matter, the drama of the current times).  As news and commentary assault us from all sides, it is easy to be caught in the riptide of obsessive anger and fear.  There is too much to do; there are too many real subjects of concern that merit our attention—not so much tasks as persons.

Save the drama for this llama

So enough with Powerball’s material madness: If we would have it, this Advent can be the chance of a lifetime, to focus on Christ with a peaceful heart so that everything else might fall into place.

A Time Unsurpassed In Distress

The readings toward the end of Ordinary Time take on an apocalytic tone.  This happens in each of the three Sunday cycles of readings, and has nothing to do with the end of the Mayan calendar, the twenty-first of December 2012.  Apocalypse means "unveiling," as it combines the Greek preposition apo (away from) and verb kalyptein (to cover, conceal).  One online dictionary entry offers several synonyms based on various meanings of "apocalyptic": prophetic, terrible, grandiose, and climactic.

Jesus' instruction to the disciples (Mk 13:24-32) unveils things to come: what will happen to the sun, moon, and stars; what the Son of Man will do; what His words will not do, though all else may.  The described events certainly sound grandiose and climactic.  It is not all distress, however, as the Son of Man intends to "gather his elect"--who, by my reading, do not escape any of the tribulations Jesus describes.

The apocalyptic style of biblical literature also occurs in Daniel.  He foretells the coming of the Archangel ("great prince" and "guardian") Michael.  He brings dread or delight, depending on one's disposition to the divine, which is revealed by the presence of one's name in "the book" (Dn 12:1).  This concept finds contemporary expression in the "Book of the Elect," which is signed by adults beginning their proximate preparation for Baptism.

The peculiar imagery and startling statements of apocalyptic literature are the subject of many writings and sermons.  Scholars and preachers attempt to decode the Book of Revelation or somehow apply it to our times.  Like many inspired texts, it has been used to justify all sorts of positions.  According to a classical Protestant interpretation, the "Whore of Babylon" (Rev 17) allegedly refers to the Roman Catholic Church.  The "number of the beast" in Rev 13 has been the subject of Hebrew numerological studies.

Along the lines of Catholic theologians such as Scott Hahn (and works like "The Lamb's Supper"), Your Rev'd Blogger prefers to view Revelation and related texts against the pervasive biblical theme of covenant, which finds its highest expression in the Eucharist.  Consider 3:20 ("Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, then I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me"), which has Eucharistic overtones.  Also 19:9 ("Blessed are those who are called to the wedding feast of the Lamb," inspiration for the book title above).

Apocalyptic texts were written for the persecuted faithful, to assure the rewards of fidelity and the just desserts of desertion.  For all of the arcane allusions of Revelation, I consider Rev 2:10 to be the lynchpin for the whole work:

"Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life."

Handle's Messiah

The intense political polarization and inter/intra-ecclesial contention of our age masterfully plays to the notion that things haven't ever been so bad and can't possibly get any worse.  The days of darkness just have to be right around the corner.  Earthquakes, floods, the death of Twinkies, even the name change of the Reading Phillies: Everything points to it...right?  Veni, et iam noli tardare!  

This longing will never cease.  It ought not cease, because one day it will come to pass.  If everyone in this snapshot of earth predeceases the Day of the Lord, recall that everyone in the 1733 snapshot likewise died, as well as the 1352, 844, 212, and 33 snapshots; but the Lord still holds out for His Elect.  The book hasn't closed, and thank Him for that!  Spaces for signatures will remain as long as the One perfect sacrifice for sins continues to be offered on our altars, and as long as the City of God continues to be frequented.

Two thousand year old texts remain relevant: we are always awaiting the consummation of all things, and we will always profit from a renewed commitment to the Big 4: sound doctrine, vibrant liturgy, generous morality, and honest prayer.