Why do some Christians love the end of the world theories? Yesterday I was at the basement of my wife’s sister-in-law, who has gone to an assisted living home, to see if there was anything we wanted before the house and its contents were sold. She and her husband, now passed, have been since their commitment to Christianity many years ago the best models for Christian life that I know of, always helpful, not only with their hands and home but also with their immense accumulation of Christian knowledge and self-help material. They were on the leading edge of the Evangelical wave that as lifted up so many people in our country. Their home was always an oasis in the desert of the world.
But they had this one thing that mystified me, a fervent hope for the end of the world, a hope so strong that they would bottle every scent of Armageddon that came along. Take Y2K, for instance. They were convinced the projected computer melt down at the end of the century would fulfill the prophecy that Christianity has been waiting for ever since Jesus died. So they filled their quarter basement with bomb shelter food, enough to feed all their friends and family for a year, I suppose, even a water distiller so they would continue to be an oasis of pure water in a polluted world. Well, at least they didn’t store machine guns and ammunition, I thought.
Now, eight years later, I stood there looking at the cases and cases of huge cans of dried food, selecting those that looked tasty (these goods last forever). And I wondered how many times Christians have been disappointed in the last 2000 years when their prophecy failed to predict the death of the world. And it was a mystery how these two loving people, who loved life and everyone they met, not only in words but in action, could grasp at these life rings of doom as if they were drowning in abomination, and death was the only way out. A happy person is not suicidal, and these two were very happy.
I’m thinking right now that perhaps this strange marriage of doom and love, death and life, comes about through a world view that sees the world as being polluted and sinful, hopelessly condemned—unless, of course, one confesses like a criminal caught and threatened with hanging, that he was wrong and his accusers were right. And the only punishment for a world that refuses to confess and convert is destruction brought about by an angry God whose patience has finally run out. It must feel pretty good to know that you are among the saved—but having a basement full of food, well, nothing wrong with a little insurance.
But on the other hand, perhaps this is the only way Christians—who make history their scripture and their map (the Bible is historical)—can get close and friendly with the powerful idea of the end-of-time. By finding new ways to cozy up to the end of time, they try to transcend death by making it their friend, while at the same time loving life. Death is okay, they say. Big deal.
This, of course, is also the way of Buddhism and Yoga, who send their aspirants to contemplate death as a doorway to liberation from bondage. Only they don’t store food because for them the end-of-time is the end of psychological time and not physical time. When you are no longer held hostage by the past, by time, you are in the Kingdom of God or nirvana, so to speak, and your history no longer binds you. For the Buddhist and yogi, every moment is potentially the end-of-time.
But, anyway, thank you, my beautiful Christians, for all the wisdom and nourishing food you have left me.
Posted under current events
This post was written by ed on December 9, 2008
