Apocalypse Now

2 Cor. 4:3-6; Mk. 9:2-9[1]

The word “Apocalypse” is a bad word for most of us. It carries connotations of the total annihilation of life, the end of the world in some great conflagration. One of the reasons why we make that association is that the writings that claim to be “apocalypses” typically make dire predictions about the destruction of life on earth. I think one of the reasons why people like you and me have been so fascinated with apocalypses that threaten the end of the world in a blazing inferno is because we want to know; we want to know what will happen to life, we want to know what will happen to us and those we love. Ironically, then, people of faith have looked to these predictions of doom for hope and reassurance!

But originally, the word “apocalypse” meant something very different. The word “apocalypse” in Greek means a disclosure, an unveiling, or a revealing of what is hidden. And so, for example, the book of Revelation is actually titled the “Apocalypse” of Jesus Christ—not because it threatens some horrific end-times scenario, but because it reveals of God’s intentions for this world. From that perspective, the idea of “apocalypse” actually lies at the root of Christian faith. As we have discussed throughout Epiphany, one of the major themes in the Gospels is that Jesus revealed the presence of God’s kingdom, already working among us to make all things new, to set things right and restore life as God intended for it to be. In a very real sense, we could say that Jesus’ whole life and ministry was an “apocalypse”: it was an unveiling, a disclosure of God’s work of salvation for us all and for all creation.

But as we have also discussed throughout Epiphany, the “apocalypse” that took place in Jesus is a “veiled disclosure,” one which is hidden and easily overlooked. It might make more sense for us to speak of Jesus’ life and ministry as a kind of preview—where we get a taste of what is coming but the full dimension of what that is remains to be seen. That’s what the transfiguration of Jesus was—a preview of what is to come. Whatever you make of it in terms of “just the facts”, the point of the transfiguration was that it was a pre-view of Jesus’ resurrection. And, in turn, one aspect Jesus’ resurrection is that it serves as a pre-view of the resurrection of all life and indeed all creation.[2] So the “apocalypse” that occurred when Jesus was transfigured before his disciples reveals the light of God’s new life already breaking into this world.[3] When we pay attention to the “preview” of what is to come that we have in everything from Jesus’ birth to his transfiguration, from his compassion to his death to his resurrection and ascension, what we see actually looks nothing like some horrible fire and brimstone day of reckoning, but rather like the Garden of Eden renewed.

St. Paul the Apostle says it this way, “God commanded light to shine in the dark—Now God is shining in our hearts!” (2 Corinthians 4:6 CEV). Although St. Paul knew as much as anyone that the light that God has poured into this world of darkness is one that can be veiled, he nevertheless believed without a doubt that the light is indeed shining. The Apostle shared the conviction—not simply an opinion but a deeply-rooted conviction—that what God has done in this world through Jesus Christ has changed everything.[4] The nature of that change is such that it can be easily overlooked, but it is nevertheless the foundation of Paul’s faith: the light of God’s new life and new creation is already shining here and now.[5]

For those of us who long for the security of knowing that all we could hope for or believe in about our faith is ultimately true, there is nothing in Scripture that will satisfy that longing. I’m afraid that means the fear-mongers who produce “Apocalypses” of doom will continue to have a thriving business. But if we are willing to take the risk of hoping for more than we have yet seen,[6] what we can have is assurance. We can have the assurance that Jesus’ life and death and resurrection serves as a disclosure, an unveiling, an “apocalypse” now in our day and time of the new creation that God will one day bring in all its beauty to restore all life in this world.[7]

We can have the assurance that comes from the fact that Jesus’ whole existence points us to the promise that “I am making the whole of creation new” (Revelation 21:5). It points us toward the promise that the new creation will mean “I have swallowed up death forever” (Isaiah 25:8) and “I will wipe away every tear” (Revelation 21:4). It points us to a world in which “they will all know me, from the greatest to the least” (Jeremiah 31:34), and “they will beat their swords into ploughshares” (Isaiah 2:4). It points us to the hope that one day God will be “all in all”—and that will be a day when everyone and everything will be filled with God’s life and love and joy and peace.[8]

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 2/22/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf., for example, 1 Corinthians 15:20 where Paul says that Jesus was raised from the dead as the “first-fruits,” or anticipation, of the resurrection of all humankind.

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 251: he speaks of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead in terms of a “transfiguration” that “is the beginning of the transfiguration of all mortal life.”

[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.489, where he deals with the affirmations of universal salvation in the Bible as an anticipation of “the final and conclusive future of God” that is through the redemption effected in Jesus Christ “already the one reality which here and now still encounters us in concealment.”

[5] Cf. Barth, Dogmatics 4.3.490-91; cf. also Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 223: the resurrection of Jesus “speaks its own language of promise and well-founded hope, but is not yet the language of accomplished fact.”

[6] Cf. A Declaration of Faith, PCUS (1977) §10.1.

[7] Cf. Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 219.

[8] Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.319 says it this way: we look forward to the day when “the light of life which has appeared in Him will penetrate and fill even the remotest corner of the cosmos.”

Moved With Compassion

Mk. 1:40-45[1]

The theme of our lessons for Epiphany is the way Jesus revealed the presence of God’s kingdom, already working among us to make all things new. Everything he did—preaching the good news, relieving the sufferings of the sick, and invading the territory of the demons, was to demonstrate that God had begun to intervene in human affairs to set things right and restore life as God intended for it to be.[2] Perhaps one of the most important ways in which Jesus revealed the presence of God’s kingdom was by the exercise of compassion. Jesus offered God’s kingdom of liberty, healing, and new life to everyone, most importantly to those whom society had shunned—the hopeless, disempowered, oppressed, broken, wounded, and lost. Jesus demonstrates God’s presence to heal, liberate and set right precisely by showing mercy and compassion to the outcasts.[3]

Cleansing the leper is an excellent demonstration of God’s compassion. Understanding the suffering of anyone with a disease makes it possible for us to see this as an act of compassion. But understanding the reality of “leprosy” in the ancient Jewish society makes what Jesus did go way beyond what we would call compassion. The many skin diseases known as “leprosy” effectively made a person an outcast from most if not all meaningful relationships.[4] Those who were “lepers” were considered to be religiously “unclean” and contaminated irrevocably. Their suffering was believed to be punishment from God for some particularly odious sin. And because they were irrevocably contaminated, “lepers” were also “contagious,” so all contact had to be avoided.

Jesus demonstrated the compassion of God by crossing the barrier that isolated the leper and touching him. What we have to understand is that for most people in that day, Jesus not only was risking contracting a horrible disease, but also was putting himself in danger of himself being irrevocably contaminated and outcast from both God and humankind. And still, Jesus touched him. More than that, he sent the “leper” to present himself to the priests and offer the prescribed sacrifice; all of which was necessary for him to be declared “clean” and therefore be able to re-enter his life. Everything Jesus did revealed the compassion of God![5] This is especially true of his cleansing of this person who was shunned from life due to his illness.[6]

But that is also what we are called to do—to reveal the presence of God’s kingdom among us by acts of compassion. The ancient Church Father Origen of Caesarea quoted Jesus as saying, “Because of the weak I was weak, and I hungered because of the hungry, and I thirsted because of the thirsty.”[7] Along these lines, Henri Nouwen says that following Jesus in the compassionate life is “the life of downward mobility.”[8] By that he meant that following Jesus in demonstrating the compassion of God means taking a path that leads “toward the poor, the suffering, the marginal, the prisoners, the refugees, the lonely, the hungry, the dying, the tortured, the homeless.”[9] This vision of relieving suffering, including those who are excluded, providing for those in need, of complete wholeness for humanity and all of creation as well is an important part of what we call the “kingdom of God.”[10]

I’m just not so sure most of us have the compassion to actually do that! There are some among us who go out of their way to bear the burdens of others. For most of us, it’s a matter of a weekend working with people just like us on a Habitat House. Or meeting with a committee of people just like us planning ways to help the suffering. But most of us are not really willing to “risk our own peace and comfort” to show compassion for those who are truly outcast by actually becoming a part of their life, their suffering, their rejection in order to help them.[11]

Before you assume too quickly that you are different, ask yourself if you would have touched the “leper”, knowing it might have meant giving up all your meaningful relationships, knowing that it might have meant being banished from all meaningful interaction with others, knowing that it might have meant consigning yourself to a lifetime in which your only community was others who were similarly outcast. I think the answer is plain enough for most of us. Which means we still have miles to go in our quest to become followers of Jesus.

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 2/15/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] John Nolland, Luke 1-9:20, 202; see also Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 94-116.

[3] Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 142; cf. also ibid., 106: “The healing Jesus intervenes out of the compassion of God, who suffers with those he has created when they are sick, and desires them to be well.” Cf. also R. David Kaylor, Jesus the Prophet , 104.

[4] See David E. Garland, “I Am the Lord Your Healer: Mark 1:21-2:12” Review and Expositor 85 (1988): 327-343.

[5] Cf. A Declaration of Faith, PCUS, 1977; PCUSA, 1991, §1.3: “Jesus’ involvement in the human condition is God’s involvement. His compassion for all kinds of people is God’s compassion.”

[6] Cf. Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 178: Jesus compassion manifests “solidarity with the helpless and the poor” and is “the path of the divine love in its essential nature.”

[7] Origen, Commentary on Matthew, 13.2. This is one of the “unwritten sayings” or Agrapha of Jesus not recorded in the Gospels but reported by early church leaders. See http://www.ccel.org/fathers2/ANF-10/anf10-49.htm.

[8] Henri Nouwen, Here and Now, 100.

[9] Nouwen, Here and Now, 101

[10] Richard Foster, Streams of Living Water, 12, calls this vision of God’s salvation “a perpetual Jubilee in the Spirit”: “a vision of an all-inclusive people, gathered in the power of God, filled with the love of God, and empowered to do the works of God. It is a vision of Jubilee sharing, Jubilee caring, and Jubilee compassion for all who are crushed and broken by social and economic structures.”

[11] Cf. Declaration of Faith 8.4: “We believe God sends us to risk our own peace and comfort in compassion for our neighbors. We are to give to them and receive from them, accepting everyone we meet as a person; to be sensitive to those who suffer in body or mind; to help and accept help in ways that affirm dignity and responsibility.” Cf. also Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 179: “Anyone who ‘has compassion’ participates in the suffering of the other, takes another person’s suffering on himself and suffers for others by entering into community with them and bearing their burdens.”

First Light

Mk. 1:14-20; 1 Cor. 7:29-31[1]

There aren’t too many things that Bible Scholars all agree on. That’s just as true of Jesus as any other subject of biblical study. But one thing about which pretty much all Bible Scholars agree is that the theme of Jesus’ “gospel” was that “the kingdom of God is at hand.” Now, of course, they don’t all agree about the significance of that message, but they do agree that’s what Jesus preached.

I find it strange that most people these days, if you asked them if the kingdom of God is here, would say no. In fact, I had some seminary students who did a research project on “the Kingdom of God in Jesus’ teaching,” and as a part of their research they did a survey of random people asking them that very question. And everyone they met answered the same thing—no, the kingdom of God is not here. I guess that’s why there’s such a strange silence in the church about the kingdom of God.

Part of the problem, as I’ve mentioned before, is that we just don’t get the whole “kingdom” bit. For us, a “kingdom” is a place where people suffer the injustice of having their basic civil rights denied them. Kings are tyrants who enrich themselves at the expense of their people. Kings exploit, they oppress, they enslave. But the “kingdom of God” has nothing to do with that. According to the Hebrew prophets, when the “kingdom of God” comes the whole world will follow God’s compassionate justice and everyone will enjoy life the way it was intended to be.

Jesus’ announcement of the good news that God is already working to redeem this world took place initially amid contradictory indicators. Like being “driven” by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil (Mark 1:13). And like John the Baptizer being arrested and ultimately executed by Herod Antipas (Mark 1:14; cf. Mark 6:27). And if you took the time to read the whole gospel of Mark, you would notice “how quickly the powers of evil are mounted against Jesus.” [2]

All was not right with the world when Jesus made his announcement, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.” There were plenty of indications that the world was dominated by other kingdoms in that day. There was plenty of evidence to suggest that the notion that God had entered this world definitively to make all things new was a pipe dream.

We have the same problem today. Our faith still rests on the good news that in Jesus the Christ “the kingdom of God” has come—that God has entered this world definitively to set everything right and to make all things new.[3] And yet, if you look around, it’s probably much easier to see signs of the other kingdoms that dominate our world than to notice the signs of God’s kingdom. That might lead one to think that if the kingdom of God really was present during Jesus’ day, it must have disappeared somewhere along the way.

But there are signs of God’s kingdom in our world if we have eyes to see them. Take for example a person like Nelson Mandela. He resolutely stood against the power of an oppressive system, maintaining hope in the midst of despair, never giving in to bitterness but freely forgiving his oppressors.

Or we could think about Henri Nouwen. He was a catholic priest and university professor who gave up his academic career to work with mentally handicapped people. He lived his whole life with the pain of isolation, a pain that was inflicted initially by his own family. But in the midst of his loss, he found a capacity for joy that few in this world ever attain. And out of his pain and loss, he shared his joy with the rest of us in his writings, which will forever continue to encourage and inspire those of us looking for signs of God’s kingdom.

Or we could think about Mother Teresa, a woman who for 45 years offered love to those who are loveless. In a very real sense, she brought life from death time and time again as she and her sisters of charity served the crippled, the blind, the lepers, refugees, and victims of all kinds of natural disasters, not only in Calcutta but throughout the world.

I guess if you think of the “kingdom of God” exclusively in terms of a future world where all things are set right and all people are enabled to live the life they were intended to live, it would be easy to miss the signs of what God is doing in our world today. But the “kingdom” that Jesus announced as “the gospel of God” is one that is already among us.[4] When asked about this, Jesus himself pointed to the “signs” of the kingdom: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matthew 11:5).[5] It is the good news that we celebrate during this season of Epiphany: in Jesus the Christ God has entered this world definitively to set everything right. And God is still working among us to make all things new.

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/25/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Paul S. Berge, "The Beginning of the Good News: The Epiphany Gospels in Mark and John," Word & World 17(Winter, 1997), 97-98.

[3] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.2, 460-61: “in and with” Jesus as the “Bearer of God’s good news,” the kingdom came “in hidden but very real form.”

[4] Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 95-96: “The gospel is not a utopian description of some far-off future. It is the daybreak of this future in the pardoning, promising word that sets people free.” He continues, “God’s present, liberating and healing activity points beyond itself to the kingdom of freedom and salvation. But through God’s lordship, the coming kingdom already throws its light ahead of itself into this history of struggle.”

[5] Cf. also Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.2, 460.

Veiled Disclosure

Ps. 29; Mk. 1:4-11[1]

In 1980, Oral Roberts claims he saw a vision of Jesus looking him straight in the eye. Mr. Roberts was alone at the time, meditating in his prayer tower about the funds he needed to complete his “City of Faith” Medical Center. His “vision” of Jesus occurred as he was looking out the window. Of course, that meant that Jesus was standing about 900-feet tall! When he made that claim I don’t think I knew a single person who believed him. But apparently Mr. Roberts had plenty of believers, because he raised the entire amount—all 120 million dollars—through contributions from his followers.

Now, it’s not too hard today to see through that kind of claim. The “City of Faith” went defunct only 8 years after it opened. Regardless of the outcome, the idea that somebody would see a vision of Jesus standing 900 feet tall is simply ludicrous! So what made it possible for Mr. Roberts to convince so many people that it was true?

In part, it’s because the Bible has many stories of supernatural events. Some of them, like the resurrection of Jesus, are central to our faith. Others, like floating axe-heads and chariots of fire, are not. The question is, which ones do you believe? For many, it’s an all-or-nothing proposition. Either you have to suspend all reason and common sense and take at face value some pretty incredible stories, or you assume that everybody knows those kinds of things don’t happen, and refuse to believe any of it.

Some in an earlier day resorted to “rational” explanations of the unusual events in the biblical stories—Jesus didn’t walk on the water, he was standing on a hidden sand bar, etc. But that fails to take the Bible’s claims seriously. For example, while we might be tempted to overlook some of the more “unbelievable” elements in Jesus’ Baptism, they are central to the story. The opening of the heavens, the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Jesus, and the divine voice all point to the message Mark conveys to us all from the very outset of his Gospel—this story concerns “the son of God” (Mk. 1:1).

Ironically, however, what Mark conveys with his account of the baptism of Jesus is something that no one else in the story ever recognizes—not the Jewish religious leaders, not the political power brokers, not even Jesus’ own disciples. The only person who recognizes Jesus as the “son of God” in Mark’s Gospel is the Roman Centurion at the cross!

And that calls attention to the inherent problem in Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is the son of God in that he serves the least, in that he is rejected by many, in that he suffers and dies for us. That was certainly not what anybody in that world was looking for in a “son of God.” “Sons of God” are supposed to do miraculous deeds, draw huge crowds of followers, enjoy tremendous success, be recognized by one and all! But this “son of God,” when it came right down to it, did none of these things. Yes, he is said to have worked many miracles. But when his reputation as “son of God” was on the line, indeed when his life was on the line, he refused! Jesus was an unlikely “son of God”; he was an unconvincing messiah, an improbable savior.[2]

During the season of Epiphany we celebrate the unveiling of Jesus as the savior; we celebrate the light that shines in the darkness and the voice that speaks truth over the tumult. But we have to recognize that the light and truth of God in our world is not nearly so “majestic” as the Psalmist proclaims—breaking cedars and stripping the forest bare and shaking the mountains! The fact is that the light and truth of God is easy to miss! The reality that we call salvation is one that is amazingly inconspicuous. God’s work in this world is not obvious.

Recognizing the light and truth of God, recognizing Jesus as “son of God” and savior, always has been and always will be a matter of faith, which always involves “a leap into the darkness of the unknown.”[3] Karl Barth asks what it was that drew the men and women of the Bible “out and on to the edge of all experience, thought, and action, to the edge of time and history, and impels them to attempt to leap off into the air, where obviously no [one] can stand.” His answer is their encounter with God.[4] I don’t think that means that they saw their own visions of a 900-foot Jesus! But they did have a genuine encounter with God. [5]

I think that’s what Paul meant when he said, “The God who said, ‘Out of darkness the light shall shine!’ is the same God who made his light shine in our hearts, to bring us the knowledge of God's glory shining in the face of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6). Whatever language you use—whether it’s the somewhat supernatural language of the Bible or the more “sophisticated” language of modern philosophers and theologians—it’s the same reality of God that encounters us today.[6] If we look with eyes of faith, we can see God’s light already shining in the darkness—because it’s shining in our own hearts. If we hear with ears of faith we can hear God’s truth over the din of all the voices competing for our attention. It’s the voice that tells us that there is nothing we have to do to make God love us any more that God already loves us, and there’s nothing we could do to make God love us less.

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/11/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 102; cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 164.

[3] Karl Barth, Romans, 98-99.

[4] Karl Barth, Word of God and Word of Man, 76.

[5] Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer, ?, says that faith “stretches far beyond the limitations of one’s own psychological strength, for it is anchored not just in the soul of the individual but in God’s self-disclosure in history.” Faith “is grounded in the historic Christ-event which is understood as a definitive breach in the deterministic chain of human trial and error, and as a dramatic affirmation that there is light on the other side of darkness.”

[6] Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember, 29-30, says, “The ancient myths and dreams of a power beyond power and a love beyond love that hold the cosmos itself, hold all things in existence reflect a reality which we can deny only to our great impoverishment; and the dream of a holiness and a mystery at the heart of things that humankind with all its ingenuity and wisdom can neither explain away nor live fully without goes on being dreamed.”