Mark 13:1-31 · Signs of the End of the Age
Yellow Wind
Mark 13:1-31
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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There is an old mountain saying that goes like this: "Nothing in this world is too bad to happen." We are indeed in "one mell of a hess" as another old saying goes. But people of the light are not afraid "even if the world blows up, and the mountains crumble into the sea" (Psalm 46:2).

Canadian Forum journalist Brian Murphy and his teenage son were idly conversing over breakfast one morning. At one point the boy challenged his father's urgings that he do well in school by cynically remarking that his grades didn't matter because "... after all, we will all be dead soon anyway." Murphy retorted: "What makes you so important, that after all these eons of time, and billions of people, you get to be one of the special ones to be here at The End of the World? You may be that special, I suppose, but I would develop a plan B if I were you." To this philosophical observation the son simply grinned and replied, "You're weird, Dad." (Utne Reader May/June 1991:113)

This brief father/son conversation demonstrates a number of the fears and foibles that populate apocalyptic thought. For some the whole literature and tradition of "end times" is part of such an ancient and obscure mythology that it has virtually no relevance for our postmodern lives and lifestyles.

Then there are those who, as we approach the year 2000 and begin the third millennium of Christian history, read every event with end-times glasses. Hillel Schwartz's Century's End: A Cultural History of the Fin de Siecle from the 990s through the 1990s (New York: Doubleday, 1990) documents the astonishing ways in which people react (often either with dour and dire pessimism or with dopey optimism) as centuries come to a close and new ones begin. Many find in the biblical predictions of dramatic, disastrous times ahead a means of refusing to take responsibility, take control or take charge. Instead they use the idea of a sudden, perhaps violent, end of life as we have known it as a kind of eschatological excuse for doing nothing.

Finally, there are still others so far beyond the pale of biblical thought and tradition that upon hearing about apocalyptic predictions and images they can only roll their eyes and respond "You're weird, Church!"

Are we "weird?" What good is all this talk of multi-horned, arrogant speaking beasts and why should we care about this strange Son of Man figure? Must we be convinced that each and every image is a clairvoyant prediction of our own age and believe our own status as that of the final culminating "end-times" in order for these texts to have any relevance at all? And if we can't quite swallow all these bizarre creatures and feel uncomfortable in confidently applying all the ancient words to our current world, must we find large portions of scripture completely unapproachable and irrelevant?

It is ironic that the "mainline" (a.k.a. "sideline") churches have often sought to ignore, attenuate or just plain deny the apocalyptic face of the church in an effort to be more "current" and to speak successfully to people in a high tech, scientifically-oriented society. The truth of the matter is that, when they think about the church in the postmodern world, far more people think in terms of Armageddon and Anti-Christs than they do of Peace and Justice Coalitions or Spiritual Renewal Weekends. The recent Gulf War, with its Middle Eastern geography and underlying roots in religious conflict, brought to the surface the pervasive power of the end-time scriptures

According to a PrincetonReligionResearchCenter poll conducted just after the beginning of the Gulf War, 15% of Americans believed that the Gulf hostilities signaled the beginning of the end - Armageddon was underway. Those who identified themselves as religious were more apt to believe in the finality of the conflict (19%), as were women (18% to 11%). A full 25% of younger people (age group 18-29) were convinced that Revelation's final battle had begun. (National and International Religion Report, Vol. 5, No. 9, April 22, 1991)

Despite our varied religious backgrounds, or even our exchange of religion for the god of technological advancement, we are all apparently braced for some apocalyptic disaster. Rih asfar, "The Yellow Wind," is an Arab phrase which refers to the wind that they believe will one day come from the gates of hell. It was used by David Grossman, an Israeli journalist, as the title of his book on perhaps the world's most troubling story and troubled spot. In The Yellow Wind ([New York: Delta Books, 1988], translated from the Hebrew by Haim Watzman), which was written for an Israeli audience in May 1987, Grossman interviewed Palestinians living in the West Bank under Israeli rule. Some of these Palestinians were dishwashers, others street vendors, others rock-throwers. But all of them showed anger in their eyes, all of them felt like "asses that anyone can ride," and all of them demonstrated the mind-set, as one expressed it, of "We will remain before you like a curse cast in cement" (9). Rih asfar is called by local Arabs "a hot and terrible east wind [only pleasant, cool winds come from the gates of Paradise] which... sets the world afire, and people seek shelter from its heat in the caves and caverns, but even there it finds those it seeks, those who have performed cruel and unjust deeds, ... The rocks will be white from the heat, and the mountains will crumble into a powder which will cover the land like yellow cotton" (75).

The image of a "yellow wind" continues the common conception about end-time events and their disastrous consequences. Acid rain, the greenhouse effect, new diseases, new drugs and new diets all contribute to our overflowing file of information anxieties. As children have already begun to pass on the sins of their parents with compound interest, it does sometimes seem that our age is attempting to draw new maps of hell.

But is the purpose of apocalyptic scripture to foster our Armageddon anxieties, deepen our "doom or gloom" mood and encourage a teeth-gritted endurance of life because any day now those we consider the "bad guys" will "get theirs. " We are so bogged down in creepy creatures getting the sequence of disasters correct and playing "Guess which beast this is?" that we have forgotten the primary purpose of apocalyptic literature was to provide a message of hope.

Instead of this hope for the future, however, there seems to be a prevalent epidemic of "timesickness" - the widespread insecurity about time and the future - which seems to be one of the hallmarks of these latter days of the 20th century. Time, as Einstein argued and we still fail to really understand, is supremely relative. If we allow our "timesickness" to overcome us, we will end up with an attitude like that teenager who found good grades completely superfluous when he focused on the end of the world. On the other hand if we sit on our hands, confidently presuming that we have all the time in the universe to gradually perfect our scarred and sin-stained society, we will find ourselves destroyed by new plagues such as a thinning ozone layer, a polluted ocean and the curse of the accumulated waste products that attend our postmodern world.

The Christian church is called to be the town crier of the global village. More often, however, it acts more like the town cricket of the global village, producing a sometimes soothing, sometimes annoying, yet constant chirp somewhere in the background of "real life." Mark's Gospel and Daniel's vision both challenge the church to take up its true identity and proclaim loudly and with joy the hope of all the nations: that Jesus is coming again both now and in the future, in great mystery and glory.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Works, by Leonard Sweet