Many contemporary apocalyptic stories focus on the war between humanity and science and technology. One story line may be that artificial intelligence gains consciousness and takes over human civilization through military robots. Another is that a manmade virus gives apes superintelligence, or perhaps it reanimates dead humans into flesh-eating zombies. Others feature a scarcity of resources resulting in wars that can’t be solved by technology alone, or an environmental collapse caused by the overconsumption of too much technology.
All these apocalyptic narratives assume a world in which humanity runs amok of the very things we created and control—until we do not control them. Our technological towers of Babel come crashing down upon us because of our hubris. These stories contrast with other apocalyptic stories that assume a catastrophe from the outside, something we cannot control, like alien invasions or crashing asteroids.
Apocalyptic stories are often devoid of a deity. They largely assume that any sort of god in this world is but a dead idea, much like postage stamps. God is neither an active character in the story nor the author or architect of the story. There are no prayers offered to any god (except by a superstitious foil), nor prayers answered from any god, nor finding hope in any god — ultimately no sense in waiting for a story’s end from God. Perhaps God has abandoned us after all.
The Apocalypse in the Olivet Discourse
Jesus’ Olivet discourse in Matthew’s gospel (24:1-25:46) also does not explicitly include God as an active character in the apocalypse, although many apocalyptic figures abound, both truly divine and pseudo-divine, like the Son of Man seated upon his heavenly throne of judgment, versus the Abomination of Desolation standing in the holy place.
Why is this? I wonder if it’s because Jesus knew that many would fall away, and the love for God would grow cold in these last days (Matt. 24:10, 12). And if this love grows cold, would we be able to recognize God in our midst? Thus, repeatedly, Jesus gives us supernatural signs and portents outside of our control to watch for: “the abomination of desolation standing in the holy place,” “wars and rumors of wars,” “famines and earthquakes,” “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from the heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken” (Matt. 24:6-7, 29).
We could see these signs with the eyes of dust and be filled with anxiety and worry, feeling as though God is absent, while some antichrist figure is violently present. Or we could see these signs with the eyes of faith. It’s the Lord who makes the sun to shine, the moon to give its light, the rain to fall, the seed to sprout, or not. It is he who establishes the earth upon its pillars and foundations or rattles them.
It is he, the maker of all things, whose infinite power far surpasses any puny pseudo-deity. To watch for these supernatural signs is to ultimately see and hear the hand and voice of God roaring out to us, beckoning to us to not fall away, to not be charmed by these pseudo-powers, nor let our love for God grow cold in these last days. “When will these things be?” the disciples ask Jesus. “When you see all these things,” these supernatural signs and portents, “you know that he is near, at the very gates,” Jesus replies. These signs do not indicate God’s absence, but rather his imminent presence.
Not Only Supernatural Signs, but also Signs in the Least of These
But there is more than one type of sign. When the disciples ask Jesus, “when will [the end] be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the close of the age?” (Matt. 24:3), Jesus responds with the word when. In both cases, when refers to two types of signs: (1) the abomination of desolation and all the other supernatural signs, and (2) every encounter with the least of these, each a deeply wedded image of God in the Son of Man.
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory … he will separate [the nations] as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats” (Matt. 25:31-33), Jesus continues, providing a divine end to this apocalyptic story. But before this end, much happens. The apostles and their disciples have baptized and have been baptized from all the nations (Matt. 28:18), Christ’s gospel has been preached everywhere as a witness to the nations (Matt. 24:14), and the nations have encountered over and over again the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned, the least of these (Matt. 25:34-36).
Every one of the least of these shares a spiritual oneness with the Son of Man. Each is identified as an “I” of the Son of Man. In the same way that rumors of wars, darkened celestial bodies and earthquakes are supernatural signs of God in our midst, each “I” is another apocalyptic sign of God in our midst. Did the baptized disciples live into their baptisms? Did they obey all of Christ’s teachings and commands in these last days? Did they see the Son of Man in each man, woman, and child? Did they love the least of these in the same way they said they love Christ? Love for God, in these last days, is synonymous with love for the least of these.
Kindling a Love that Will not Grow Cold, in these Last Days
These last days, for us Christians, is not a story devoid of God. Kindling a love for God that will not grow cold in these last days comes from learning to see God in our midst, not only in the supernatural signs and portents, but also in these apocalyptic signs, the least of these. Each is a sign of God’s imminent presence, a tangible flesh and blood, soul, and body image of God that we can touch, speak with, hear from, and revere.
Each requires a response: food and water, clothes and friendship, hospitality and sacrifice. Each stands as a sign of both the humility of Christ and an anti-sign, if you will, of the hubris of various antichrists. For if the apocalypse is an unveiling of what truly is, then each of the least of these is the Son of Man veiled, and each faithful encounter with the least of these is the Son of Man unveiling himself to us, and likewise unveiling the utter poverty of the powers that be. If we do not learn to see Christ in these inglorious figures, will we ever be ready to see Christ when he returns in glory?
The Rev. John D. Sundara is the Vicar for Worship and Evangelism at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, Houston, TX.