Jesus said to his disciples: “In those days after that tribulation the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory, and then he will send out the angels and gather the elect from the four winds, from the end of the earth to the end of the sky. Learn a lesson from the fig tree. When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates. Amen, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (Mark 13.24-32)
As the liturgical year winds down, we typically have a selection from one of the gospels that carries overtones of apocalyptic literature, a popular genre shortly before and during the lifetime of Rabbi Jesus. The root of the word simply means to reveal. Hence, the one book in the Christian bible dedicated entirely to apocalyptic literature is known as the Book of Revelations, although in prior times it was more often called the Book of the Apocalypse.
While the gospel writers do not make wide use of the elements of apocalyptic literature, they do have some parts of their texts that employ the same imagery and the same thematics. Such is the case today in those verses from Chapter 13 of Mark’s gospel, a section of his writing that has become known as “The Little Apocalypse” because it contains many of the same elements as the “Big Apocalypse,” that is the Book of Revelation.
That this text is found at the end of the liturgical year (next Sunday the year closes with the Feast of Christ the King) is opportune since apocalyptic literature wishes to reveal the end times. So, as we anticipate the end of the liturgical year, it works well that our selection anticipates the end of time. Of course, the synoptic writers also turn towards apocalyptic themes towards the end of their gospels, anticipating the end of Jesus’ life on the cross, rightly understood as the inauguration of the end times.
For some reason, people today are as fascinated by the apocalyptic sections of scripture as were early believers. There is something compelling and intriguing in the imagery that is always used to anchor apocalyptic writing. The vision of the end times has chaos, confusion, and catastrophe at its heart, as we see today, when we hear Rabbi Jesus speak of “those days when the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky.”
If taken literally, it makes for quite a show, the end of the earth painted in bold images of mayhem and manic destruction, everything breaking apart and crumbling. It is intended to invoke the reversal of creation when the Most HIgh God brought order into the chaos. When the end times come, there will be massive disorder that returns the world to chaos.
As we know, people of every age have felt certain that the end times are coming. There were sects in Jesus’ time that felt the same way, escaping to caves in the desert as they awaited those cataclysmic days around the corner. That concrete belief in the world coming to a catastrophic end, usually heralding the entrance of the Most HIgh God into the world as judge, reclaiming what is rightfully his and banishing into the nether world all that is not his, is a constant in human history, doomsday prophets with calculators asserting that they have uncovered the exact day and hour of God’s arrival, gathering around them believers who stash away their sleeping bags and canned sardines as they await the coming of the Lord. Needless to say, none has been proven right so far.
As a result, I do not intend to join the crowd with the calculators who are always reading the tea leaves to determine how much more time we have left. Frankly, I find it to be a waste of time and a sure path to disappointment, the pile of prophets proven dead wrong making for a tall totem pole that reaches high into the heavens overhead.
A better approach, I believe, is to ask ourselves what is the true, underlying intention of apocalyptic writing. Once we get to that deeper meaning, we may find a better use of our time, not using it in idle speculation about the end times but maybe making use of our days in right living. When the dust settles, that is probably the main point of apocalyptic literature anyway.
The first thing to remember is that apocalyptic writing historically surfaced in bad times, at least in bad times for certain groups. The first instance of it in the Hebrew scriptures is found in the Book of Daniel, a late addition to the compendium. Looking at the historical circumstances of the times when it was written, we find the Jewish people battling a Greek king named Antiochus Epiphanes who reigned from 175-163 B.C.E. and who entered Jerusalem full of sound and fury, destroying much of the city, killing many of its citizenry, and desecrating the temple by sacrificing pigs on its altars.
These were desperate times for Jews in Jerusalem, giving birth to what would become known as apocalyptic literature. Often called the “literature of the dispossessed,” it has as its birth pangs the prayers, cries, and outrage of a specific group under attack. We find the same thing in the time of Rabbi Jesus when Roman imperial control extended to Judea, its people forced to live under Roman rule and Roman emperors. Again, they were a people dispossessed and displaced, yearning for vengeance upon their enemies and a return to self-rule. The third and final revolt in the Jewish-Roman wars would take place a century after the death of Jesus.
That apocalyptic literature found its way into the Christian writings should come as no real surprise. Again, the early Christians often found themselves besieged and suffering at the hands of others not kindly disposed to their practice of their faith. First, the Jews exacted pain upon the followers of Jesus and then the Roman authorities did the same, seeing the nascent Christian communities as a threat to the peace of the empire because of their failure to sacrifice to the gods, the custodians of all things good and the ones whom the Romans habitually curried favors from.
Over the course of the last several months, we have come to see that much of Mark’s gospel is written with this backdrop, his message intent on fortifying the faith of the Christian community that probably lived in Rome and, as a result, came under scrutiny and suspicion for their beliefs, forced to live in fear for their lives on a more or less daily basis. Mark wants these believers to have greater strength and surer footing than the disciples that surrounded Jesus, a group that sadly misunderstood his mission and that regularly missed the mark in understanding what he taught them.
So, it makes perfect sense that a bit of apocalyptic writing would find itself in Mark’s gospel, here at the end, as Mark moves towards the crucifixion of Jesus, the son of the carpenter. He wants to show that Jesus himself was subjected to dark days and his followers should expect the same, the forces of evil always in lock step against the ways of God to which all Christians are called to conform their lives.
For Mark, Christian believers are now the dispossessed and this “Little Apocalypse” is written to shore up their faith, promising them that their suffering will not be in vain and that the day will come when God will make right all the wrongs done to them. If they can survive to that day, strong in practice and in belief, then they will be vindicated when God judges the wicked of the world and casts them into the eternal flames.
In other words, the point Mark is making in these verses is to stay strong and to hang in there because reinforcements are coming. God with his army of angels will enter the world and those who are oppressed by the forces of darkness will find themselves standing before God in white garments while the wicked will be punished and put away forever.
Apocalyptic literature, then, is an energy drink of sorts, giving renewed vigor and increased courage to this small and beleaguered band of believers, urging them to stay faithful in the short term because in the long term God will reward the good and punish the wicked. Essentially, Mark is giving the Christian believers an answer to the question most often asked by them, “Why do we have to suffer injustice and persecution?”
Hearing the promise that Mark made to his readers in Jesus words that “they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory and he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds and from the end of the earth to the end of the sky” offered consolation and encouragement to the community of believers, assuring them that their suffering was temporary and their reward would be everlasting.
And while the present may be filled with suffering, it should be seen as a test that proves the mettle of true believers who refuse to turn away from the ways of God, but who endure to the end, regardless of the pain and persecution at the hand of enemy forces that they must fight in this world, demons and other minions of the Devil who will find himself vanquished and decapitated when the Almighty reclaims his creation.
It is for this same reason that we find throughout Mark’s gospel the use of the word “tested.” It shows up at the start when the Devil tested Jesus in the desert. It often appears when the scribes face off with Jesus “to test” him. When he was tested by enemy forces, Jesus prevailed. When his followers are tested by the same forces, they also must prevail, suffering ridicule and rejection without capitulation to these hostile forces, instead remaining strong and sure in their commitment to follow the ways of Jesus.
Obviously, the question before us who live in the world in these times is if apocalyptic literature such as we find today in this passage from Mark’s gospel still speaks to us. For some, it might. For many, it does not. The answer, I suppose, is found either in the presence or in the absence of suffering in our lives, a suffering endured for the sake of complying with the words and ways of Jesus of Nazareth.
Remember, apocalyptic literature is the literature of the dispossessed, those who experience persecution and punishment because of their practices and beliefs. It offers them fortitude for their faith, promising them that hope is on the horizon. On the other hand, if we suffer little to nothing in this world, then apocalyptic literature is not going to mean much to us, except perhaps revealing to us that our conformity to the Christian way of life is not as air-tight as we want to believe it is. Were we truly in step with Jesus’ way and words, then we would be feeling the pain.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 