Sign Of The Times?

I took this photo this afternoon and I have to say my feelings about it are decidedly mixed.

I am not blind to the humor or the irony: I can see that, if May 21, 2011 is indeed "Judgment Day," then it follows -- at least I think it follows -- that the Fire Danger Index would be considerably higher than a mere 2. I also get that if there is a Rapture tomorrow -- something far different than the Final Judgment, by the way -- then those who are indeed taken away will leave lots of things behind (proving, of course, the adage that "you can't take it with you"). I get, too, something perhaps too subtle, namely, that those who think they will be caught up in the Rapture might have second thoughts if they realize someone will be rifling through their forsaken goods. And I further understand the humor and irony in picturing those who are supposed to protect our property -- firefighters -- rushing to the homes of the suddenly departed in order to abscond with everything in sight. I get what's funny; I get the irony. If I didn't, I would not have taken the picture.

But is there something amiss when a town department -- in this case a fire department -- pokes fun at a group's religious beliefs? Granted, those who expect a Rapture -- that Jesus Christ will raise the faithful from a damned planet and leave the faithless behind without hope of redemption -- belong to a rather small group; there are many very devout and orthodox Christians who do not believe in this particular event. Regardless, the Rapture is a distinctly religious belief held by very sincere and devout people. Is this appropriate for a town sign?

Hey, but let me count myself among those who are skeptical about what is prognosticated for tomorrow. Clearly the prophecy possesses one intrinsic problem: it is May 21 somewhere right now, and yet I write this on May 20. Perhaps Jesus was way ahead of His peers (which, to the devout, seems undeniable) when He admitted that even He did not know the "day or the hour" when the earth would come to an end. Perhaps Jesus was well aware that geo-physics -- with a roundish, revolving earth and all -- reveal that a "day" is a rather relative term; and this especially when we consider that today is already tomorrow somewhere east of where I sit (and west, of course). May 21 is today; so, too, is May 20. When, pray tell, is the earth really "within" what we would call "May 21, 2011"? Does the universe itself follow the Gregorian (or Julian) calendar? (What day is it on the International Space Station, by the way, or what day is it on the sun?)

Moreover, at what point in a Christian's life does he or she gain the confidence to KNOW what Jesus Christ claimed not to know? Or is this just another example of the gnostic temptation -- to know and discern what others are too obtuse, dumb or worldly to divine for themselves? Clearly the gnostic temptation is an all too common one, but one would think the last people to fall prey to such an allurement would be the Christians whose Lord admitted the "day [and] the hour" were not something with which He was particularly concerned. 

But, well, whatever. The world keeps spinning. I have been taught since a child to live and love as if each day is my last -- with the emphasis on love. I have been taught to "be ready," and not just in the religious but even in the social or existential sense: I ought to have as few loose ends with my loved ones as possible. In a very real sense every day is Judgment Day. I've got no guarantees I have a tomorrow. Heck, I don't have any guarantees that I have a right now. I can only trust, hope, believe. I can only beg for mercy and grace; and I can give what love, grace, and hope I have to give. 

Is Jesus returning tomorrow? I have no idea. I know that the mystery of the Christian faith is summed up in this triad: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Christians have proclaimed this for 2,000 years, and it is doubtful they will stop proclaiming it after tomorrow. 

But it is good to remember what is recorded as the last prayer written in the New Testament; it is a prayer given in response to Christ's last promise. It is a sober prayer. It is a prayer I can almost hear spoken with a sort of reverent reluctance. Surely it is not offered with great vigor and enthusiasm; surely it is not something proclaimed with a great deal of glee. It is more a prayer of trusting resignation than it is one of eager confidence and unrestrained jubilation. 

"Behold, I return quickly." 

"Even so, return Lord Jesus." 

Peace to you all. May all love be yours. Forever.

©2011/Bill Gnade 

On Signs And Wonders: Musings On Imminence

No one shall ever accuse me of being overly apocalyptic; I do not spend my days sifting through prophecies or looking for doom, nor do I read any "Left Behind" books. I do not pore over secret texts in a windowless room. I do not stare at tea leaves. I do not consult with the dead. But I do, occasionally, look at the stars.

Perhaps you have heard of the massive storm sweeping across the "north" pole of Saturn. It has been there for many years; it has held the curiosity of physicists and astronomers for a long time. But new images from the Cassini spacecraft have brought the storm back to the fore. The picture above shows why: the heart of the storm defies (this might be too strong a word) the known laws of nature: the storm is six-sided. Though the phenomenon has been duplicated in a bucket of water spun at high speeds, a bucket of water is a contrived and controlled system: this storm on Saturn, though still in a closed system (in a sense), is occurring on a massive scale at the pole of a sphere where there are no walls, and no one is doing the spinning (I realize that the enormous, gaseous atmosphere of Saturn may, in fact, act as the cylindrical walls of a bucket along the storm's perimeter.)†

That a hexagonal storm should stop me in my tracks is doubtful, at least when it is hundreds of millions of miles away. I am sure that were I kayaking somewhere on the face of that mysterious planet, I might at least need to tighten my grip on the paddle. But it is the timing of it all that just gives me pause, and the wondrous symbolism the storm suggests.

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What of the return of Christ?

It is fair to ask why I should connect the six-sided storm on Saturn as a sign of the times, a portent of things to come, or come again. Why bother? Well, partly because astronomy/astrology played no small part in a different epiphany: the Gentiles of the ancient world -- represented in the three wise men of the Christian gospel narrative -- followed starry signs and wonders to the very crib of Christ. The "Star of Bethlehem" was the sign to the Gentiles from the East that the Christ had come.

It seems possible, at least to this dreamer, that there will be a sign in the heavens signaling the return of Christ, like a different Star of Bethlehem. Jesus said in Matthew 24:30, "At that time the sign of the Son of Man will appear in the sky ..." Note what He says: the sign of the Son of Man. I know it isn't much, but it is at least intriguing.

And it is mostly intriguing because of the day and age in which we now live. Babylon, a major name in Christian apocalyptic writings, is front and center in most people's concerns for the world; Iraq, as you know, is Babylon. Persia is back on the world stage; Iran is Persia. The prophet Ezekiel prophesied (Ezekiel 38-39) a dramatic union between unlikely partners, Persia and Magog; the Magogians, at least to some observers, are the Scythians, who formerly settled the southern reaches of the old USSR. Alas, there seems ample evidence that Russia (and nations in this southern region), and Iran are recently enamored of each other; according to Ezekiel (or some suggest), their great alliance will bring war upon Israel. Granted, there is much confusion about these prophecies; some even suggest that Magog is China, but in the confusion there is much that smacks of "right now."

I do not pretend to know what these things mean; I do not even claim to believe in them. I am merely noting symbols, timing. But it is no practical joke, do you think, that Israel, no larger than Vermont (a state in America) is the epicenter of most of the world's political turmoil? How could this small place be so important; how is it that so much energy and time and living are expended on dealing with this little place? Is it not because Israel is indeed God's Chosen People, chosen above others who believe themselves much greater, much more important?

I have noticed, too, that currenly there are leaders emerging with great messianic ambitions. Iran's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is full of much messianic bluster, while America's Barack H. Obama, whose name means "blessed", is adoringly greeted with palm branches at every turn. (It is worth pointing out that a Chicago Tribune reporter is writing a book about Obama called, The Savior. Read about this and much more in Rolling Stones' aptly titled article about the candidate, "Destiny's Child.") Needless to say, the world is ripe with messianism: Bush and Company are destroying everything, or so it goes, and many among us are surely desperate for deliverance.

Jesus tells us that in the last days "the abomination that causes desolation" will stand in the holy place. I have more than once wondered whether the consecration of an openly and unflappable gay bishop to the Episcopal Church is a fulfillment of that prophecy: a homosexual man, unmarried yet sexually involved with a partner, is elected to stand in a Bishop's Seat as vicar of Christ. Surely there is nothing more desolate than a sexuality that cannot expand beyond itself; nor is there anything more desolate than the suggestion that Jesus Himself can be represented as a gay man by a gay man standing in His stead -- in the holy place.

Combine this all with St. Paul's warning that the last days will include a delusion on the minds of men, that men will be incapable of believing in truth, believing lies instead (lies such as whether 9/11 actually happened as we know it did); that good will be bad, and bad, good; that the many religious will have a form of godliness but deny its power; combine all of this together, and you've got something that looks undeniably au courant.

No doubt I am demonstrably wrong. I will let others do the demonstrating. I just want to do the wondering. And one of the things I cannot help but wonder about is a six-sided storm on Saturn, a storm flashing 6 sides, 6 straight sides, 6 spinning sides. It is all a wonder, and this without even thinking about who Saturn is.

Who is Saturn? Nobody really. He is just a mere Roman god, the god of the harvest, the god of reaping.

His symbol, believe it or not, is a sickle.

Peace this day.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

PS. In Hindu astrology, Saturn, or Shani, is the Judge of all the planets (see Wikipedia entry for Saturn).

†Saturn does not have a uniform rotational speed; it is irregular. Perhaps this explains the strange geometry of the storm. But every sphere I've ever spun that spun irregularly was either warped or bubbled; each sphere's center of mass was not centered. Is Saturn poised to wobble apart? Just wondering. Also, as my son pointed out, the water in the rotating bucket has a hole in the middle in the shape of a hexagon. The storm, as you can see, has no eye wall; there is no hole.

[Photo courtesy of NASA. Click image for a larger view.]

"So when you see standing in the holy place 'the abomination that causes desolation,' spoken of through the prophet Daniel—let the reader understand— then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains."