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In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.
At today’s Evensong, we mark the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, and we hear two readings about the end of days: one is from Daniel; the other from the Gospel of Mark. And the theme of these readings is trust.
Usually, when Christians think about apocalyptic literature in the Bible we think of the book of Revelation, stuck there at the end of the New Testament. And rightfully so: the Revelation of St. John the Divine is chock full of apocalyptic imagery—both descriptions of the mysteries of the cosmic, transcendent world. There are also predictions of what’s to come, the future destiny of the world: the return of the risen Christ; judgment; redemption; and the descent of the New Jerusalem. It is, to say the least, dramatic.
If there is an equivalent to the book of Revelation in the Old Testament, it’s the book of Daniel. Half of the book is about Daniel himself, and the second half is the apocalyptic part. As you might have noticed, we heard from the second half this afternoon.
The section of St. Mark’s gospel we heard is Jesus’ own apocalyptic discourse: “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light… Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.” This brief section in the thirteenth chapter is called the “Little Apocalypse.” It’s only a few lines long, and there is uncertainty as to whether Jesus is referring here to the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple (which was roughly contemporaneous with the composition and reception of the Gospel), or talking about a judgment and apocalypse that would be the end of history. For today though, I’d just like to point out what that apocalyptic does, and what it looks like, because it tells us something about God.
The word “apocalypse” itself means “uncovering.” if you remember the goddess Calypso in Homer’s Odyssey, her name means “hidden.” She is the one who “hid” Odysseus for a time during his long journey home. When he eventually left her behind, he was “apo-calypso”—away from Calypso—and so unhidden, and the gods who were out to get him… well, they got him. Apocalypse, then, is when things that were covered up, are now put out in the open; that which was hidden is revealed. It becomes clear, in apocalypse, how things really are, not just how they seem to be. Illusions are exposed as illusory, in apocalypse; lies are exposed as lies, in apocalypse.
What we’re celebrating today, however, is not Apocalypse Sunday, but the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. But the readings we’ve heard are about the role of angels in these end days, this time of revealing. And Daniel says: Michael the angel shall arise, and those who are asleep—meaning dead—they shall awake. Daniel makes it clear that the angels have a role in that final resurrection.
To be sure, the angels don’t do the resurrecting; Christ does the resurrecting. And the angels don’t do the judging; Christ does the judging. The angels, though, are sort of the foot soldiers of the Son of God, his worker bees; he is at their head, and they carry out his will. So they are carrying out his will; and his will is to carry out the Father’s will. And what is the Father’s will? In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that the Father’s will is “That all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and [Jesus] will raise them up on the last day” (6:40), that last day when everything is, finally, unhidden.
We should remember that, when the Gospel of Mark was being written, it’s very likely that events were occurring that sure did make it feel like they were the last days. The destruction of the Temple in 70 AD was one of the most traumatic events that could have happened to that community. When Jesus says here, “The very powers in the heavens will be shaken,” it probably resonated, deeply, with the contemporary experiences of his hearers. When the Temple fell, after half a millennium of being the spiritual center of the Jewish people—well, the foundations of the world as they knew it trembled. In a very real way, it was the end of a world. With the distance of history, it’s difficult for us to conceive in our minds just how devastating an event that was, just how earth-shattering it was for those communities.
Or maybe it’s not so difficult for us to imagine. Because the destruction of the Temple, it turned out, was not going to be the last time that something that incomprehensibly devastating would happen. There have been a lot of temples since then, and only some of them have been religious. There have been a lot of buildings, yes; but more broadly, a lot of worlds have been made; empires built; lives lived; comfort and sanctuary found. But many of these, eventually, have been lost. In Shelley’s famous poem, the inscription on the collapsed sculpture, once magnificent, read “Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!” But there was nothing to look at anymore; despair, indeed. This is a revelation, too. Because there was security in that Jerusalem Temple; there was security in that once-grand statue erected in the middle of the once-bustling city; there is security in the things of our lives, the people of our lives.
And then, sometimes, those temples are destroyed. The foundations tremble. What was believed to be permanent, stable, and eternal is revealed to be none of these. It’s devastating, and in this city of eight million people, it happens every single day. And that’s why the theme of these apocalyptic readings is trust. What can be trusted is what doesn’t fall away, what comes at the end, when things are unhidden, when things are revealed. What is revealed is not the arrival of a taller statue, nor a bigger building; what is revealed is the will of God, the desire of God for all people to be saved. Apocalypse isn’t something scary, except in so far as it can be scary to find out what is, and what is not, finally real. But we don’t have to be afraid, because these descriptions of apocalypse are also promises: promises that no matter what threats the future holds; no matter crumbling cities or fallen temples or individual losses: the future, ultimately, belongs to God, and no one else. The future belongs to the Son of God, who came into the world so that we do not perish, but have eternal life. “After that suffering,” Jesus says—after that suffering—“then they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory.” And as the Lord of history, returning in glory, he will send his angels to do the Father’s will. And they will go out to the ends of the earth to seek out every lost person, every one whose world has been shattered by one thing or another. Trust: because when things are finally brought to completion, St. Michael and All Angels will come, to gather us up, bring us to Christ, who will make us whole again.
In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.