The talk of the town this week (regardless of what town you are in) has certainly been affected by Harold Camping’s proclamation that today, May 21st, 2011 is rapture day. Some people have taken his calculations very seriously—so seriously, in fact, that they have depleted savings accounts and quit their jobs so that they could “spread the message” in the final days. Some have largely ignored the debacle, choosing to focus on more realistic things. And some have had a great deal of fun at Harold Camping’s (and his followers’) expense.
I have to admit that I tend to fall into the latter category. I’ve had a few laughs and cracked more than a few jokes about Camping’s desperate attempt to set a date that I’m pretty certain humans were never meant to know.
But now that the day is winding down and proving to be no more eventful than any other Saturday, I’m left with a few thoughts about the subject that are weighing heavily on my mind.
1) All my joking, it turns out, is tasteless
Regardless of what I believe to be true, I pride myself on being open and accepting of alternative perspectives. And yet, I have been pretty ruthless in my ridicule of those who believed Camping’s teachings. But tomorrow, what becomes of the retired man who depleted his life savings to support a cause in which he completely believed? What then? Will it still be funny? In the end, he tried to do what he believed was right. He tried to spread a message that he believed would save others. And he was willing to put his money where his mouth his. Why is that funny?
2) Some things are just supposed to be a mystery
Camping is not alone in trying to predict the end of the world. It has been done many times before. To this day, the ancient Nostradamus’ end-of-time predictions are huge sellers in bookstores. The Apostle Paul addressed similar divisions in the early church in many of his epistles. Walk through a Christian bookstore and you’ll find shelf after self loaded with books about the signs of the times and trying to understand and predict the end. What made Camping stand out from the crowd was his rubber stamped expiration date. That was the subtle difference between him and countless others, and that is what we latched on to. But I can’t help but think that some things are better left a mystery. Sometimes, we have to keep on believing even when we can’t see with our own eyes the outcome—that’s what faith boils down to. Some things are a mystery and will always be a mystery. Maybe we should spend more time living in the footsteps of Christ and a little less time obsessing about when time runs out.
3) What do we believe?
As a United Methodist, a part of my doctrine is accepting and believing that Christ will come again. This belief is uttered in the Apostle’s Creed that we recite together. It is espoused in the liturgy we join in around the Lord’s Table when we celebrate the Eucharist (Holy Communion). I always say it with conviction. Jesus will come again. How are we, as a church, going to go out into the world tomorrow and deal with the jokes and laughter being made about a belief we hold dear? How will we address it? How will we explain to others why Camping’s teaching was so far off when we, ourselves, believe in the Second Coming? We can’t just dismiss it. We may not like the negative attention drawn to our faith lately, so our reaction may be to distance ourselves from Camping; but we must be willing to wrestle with the questions.
4) Where’s the funeral?
It seems as though there was a lot of fear mongering going on with the spreading of the message that the Rapture was about to occur. Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but my belief in the return of Christ has never centered on fear—but look at so many of the messages out there (and not just Camping’s): Fear is a major part of it. I don’t believe in Christ because I am afraid of death or hell or the end. I believe in Christ because even without the Rapture, he is my source of life. Here and now, I live because he lives. If we believe what Christ has taught us, what he has promised us, shouldn’t we be looking to heaven with ecstatic expectation and joy that the hope we have clung to so dearly for so long is finally being fulfilled? Why the tears? Why the fear? Shouldn’t we be dancing in the streets, laughing, and anxiously proclaiming with joy, “Jesus is coming”? Think of the children waving their palm branches and singing Hosanna on Palm Sunday. Isn’t that the type of welcome we should give Jesus rather than inviting him to a place where everyone is cowering and cringing?
5) How do we offer the Grace of Christ to the world now?
Harold Camping has held the country’s (maybe even to some extent, the world’s) attention for a few days, now. Soon, his failed attempt to put a “use by” date on the world will fade into distant memory—but we will still be here. Set aside all the end-times talk Camping has engaged in recently and hear some of this other messages. One in particular should be a clear and loud call to action from us: The church is irrelevant. Camping seems to think that people are wasting their time in churches. But I think public, communal worship still holds a valuable place in our lives. We still need to come together in sacred spaces and worship, out loud, the God of Grace who gives us life. I don’t think there is anything irrelevant about the church… but the real test will be tomorrow. How will we offer grace to those who believed so deeply that this would be the day they would be taken to Christ’s side? How will we dry their tears and offer them assurance that Christ is indeed with them? How will we offer the gospel to the countless thousands who have been repulsed by this public fiasco and now doubt? How will we, the Church universal, be relevant tomorrow?
