Advent Apocalypse:

 A sermon preached on the first Sunday of Advent
By: Rhianna Isaak-Krauss at Fellowship of Hope in Elkhart, IN

Matthew 24:36-44
But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; 39 and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. 41 Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
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42 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.

Apocalypse in the text
In this sermon I am going to ask you a question which will not be rhetorical. So stay awake!

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. We begin with an apocalypse. 

What is an apocalypse? It is the end of the world we know and the beginning of a new one. Apocalypses do not have to be tragic but they are intense. They are disconcerting, painful, and unsettling because of the cracking and crumbling of major worldviews which create space for new possibilities. 

The Christian calendar begins with the apocalypse intimately known by Mary and many other women — pregnancy. The end of her world as she knew it occurred; Mary was shocked by her interaction with Gabriel. After some questions, assurances, and her consent Mary’s life was forever changed. It was an apocalypse. Her life as a young woman ended and a new one as a mother began. Jesus was coming!

Thus Advent begins with the end: not the end of life, but the end of the world we knew. 
In these eight verses of Matthew, we hear about not one but two apocalypses. 

For as in those days before the flood
they were eating and drinking,
marrying and given in marriage, 
until the day 
Noah entered the ark,
and they knew nothing
until the flood came
​and swept them all away.

This is a story of an apocalypse: the end of the world they knew.

Life had been going on as normal: people had careers, projects, and deadlines. Suddenly things changed. A flood came and many died. Both for those who died and the few who survived — the insects, reptiles, mammals, and Noah and family — the world they had known had ended and another had begun. 

Matthew shares another apocalypse:

If the owner of the house had known
in what part of the night
the thief was coming, 
he would have stayed awake
and would not have let his house be broken into.

For this homeowner and their family, the thief interrupted life as normal. 
Suddenly, their security was gone. Their wealth was gone. It was the end of the world they had known. 
In this apocalypse the homeowner’s life continues, but his worldview, identity, power, and privilege were significantly changed. I can imagine that this person did not sleep as soundly for months to come, nervous that the thief would return. 

Apocalypse in the world
There have been many apocalypses throughout history in which the world that we knew ended and everything was different afterwards. 

For the early Christians this happened when the Temple was destroyed. It was unthinkable: the Romans came through Jerusalem, tearing apart the Jewish temple during the war in 66AD, only 30 years after Jesus died. This was the end of the world as the early church knew it.

Yet we don’t meet apocalypse only in the scriptures. 

Harriet Tubman was born into slavery in the United States in 1820. She was a strong and had a close connection with God. Though she was never taught to read books, she could sure understand the Holy Spirit. Harriet’s end goal was freedom: freedom for herself, for her family, for her people. If Harriet continued doing what was ‘normal’, she would continue to be beaten, oppressed, and under the constant threat of being sold.

For Harriet, the end of the world as she knew it, her apocalypse, was the end of her enslavement. Her opportunity to escape was her apocalypse!

Two slaves will be working in the fields together: 
one will run for freedom, the other will stay behind. 

The fear of change was too much for some. The fear of being caught was too much for others, keeping them trapped in slavery.  But Harriet was so desperate for freedom — though she knew she might die trying — that when she had the opportunity, she ran toward liberation, unwilling to stay in the death-dealing system of slavery.

I remember being told of another apocalypse — the ending of the world as my ancestors knew it — that occurred in the 1920s.  The Russian Revolution was underway and people were fleeing. The Machno bandits came into the home of my great-grandfather, John Siemens. He was just a boy. He saw them shoot his grandfather and father as he jumped out the window. Little John also witnessed many horrid acts done to his mother, sister, and two brothers. 

They knew they had to flee but, at that time, no one knew when trains would come. 
    One sibling was taken by the train, the other stayed behind.

And so it was: John, his two brothers, and his mother left on the next train. 
His sister Maria stayed behind; she was engaged to be married. Her plan was to marry and follow on the next train. 
That next train never came. Maria was sent to a Siberian work camp, cutting wood as Soviet forced labour.


 QUESTION: Can you think of an apocalypse?
          A collective rupture of worldview that you have experienced?

Good news in the text
Take a deep breath in and let it out with a sigh.

A metaphor that theologian Ched Myers uses to explain apocalypse is that of a bifocal lens: rather than having two pairs of glasses to switch between seeing the ‘here’ and the ‘not yet’, the bifocal simultaneously reveals clearly both the violence here and the possibilities to come. This is the apocalyptic vision we are called to during advent as we long for Jesus to be born.

In order to see—we must be awake!

The text calls us to keep awake! 
To be ready!
There is a sense of urgency here—don't live life as normal! 
And at the same time there is mystery—we don't know when it will be time to flee slavery, we dont know when the next train will come, we don’t know when the next pregnancy will occur, we don't know when the Son of Humanity will bring liberation. 

Be ready for Jesus—not to take us away from this Earth, but for Jesus to liberate us here on Earth. 

This is the apocalypse we are longing for in Advent. 
We are awaiting with pregnant hope for this — end of the world as it’s known. 
We are awaiting the coming of Jesus — anticipating our adoption into a new worldview. New world. Renewed world. New Heaven and New Earth.

But let’s face it, we are living life as normal. We eat and drink and sleep every day. We go to work and do homework. We plan for our futures. 
What does it look like to prepare for an apocalypse? We can’t literally stay awake. I don't think the author of Matthew meant it literally because our bodies just cannot handle more than a few sleepless nights. Elsewhere in the New Testament when we are called to stay awake it refers to not putting trust in Roman (State) power and security. I will say that again — staying awake means not putting our trust in State power and security.

The good news of this text is this: An apocalypse is coming! An end to the Roman power is coming! An end to the oppressive political regimes is coming! The structures of this violent world are cracking and beginning to crumble. An end to the world as we know it is coming. Jesus is coming. And we are already able to join in! 

Good news in the world
For me, apocalypse looks like climate change.

Two are at the bank: one divests from oil and natural gas, the other continues investing their money and lives in the collapsing system.
Two are in line at the gas pump: one is ready to turn in her keys and bike away, the other keeps waiting in line. 
If the manager of the corporation would have known at what time of the night the protesters were coming to shut down the pipeline, he would not have gone to sleep. 

We can live into the kindom of God: the one that is both here and not yet. 
We can put on our apocalyptic bifocals and stay awake by loving our enemy and praying for those who persecute. 
We can live into a world of dignity for everyone, defying systems of slavery and unpaid labor around the world. 

Jesus’ coming, the apocalypse that we long for, will end the waiting part of living into the Kindom of God, fulfilling both the ‘here’ and ‘not yet’ and fully realizing the Kindom of Heaven.

Jesus’ coming brings that kindom. 

Stay awake—release the security that oppressive empires provide—and live fully into Jesus’ kindom so that this Advent we can prepare for Jesus’ return and the end of these oppressive empires. This is an active hope. 

Practice agility! Get ready to flee towards the freedom of Christ by investing ourselves in Christ’s all-encompassing liberation now!

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Rhianna Isaak-Krauss

Rianna Isaak-Krauss believes that mourning is a crucial spiritual practice to persevere in the Anthropocene. She believes that Christian theological imagination and liturgical practices have a gift to make to the climate movement. After studying at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, Elkhart, IN, she moved with her husband Benni to his native Germany and is hoping to connect with European climate justice and peace movements in the Rhine and Danube watersheds.