The Season of Advent (the word means "coming") is a schizophrenic season in that it has a dual personality. It is the season in which we look back with fondness to the first coming of the Christ as an infant in Bethlehem. We travel on dusty roads with the Holy Family from Nazareth south to Judea. We are expectant with hope along with the maiden Mary. With shepherds, we watch the nighttime sky for signs of deliverance. We prepare our hearths and hearts for Christmas.

But Advent is also a season of looking forward to the second and final coming of Christ in judgment. The proper preface of the Advent Season expresses with precision this seasonal duality:

"Because you sent your beloved Son to redeem us from sin and death, and to make us heirs in him of everlasting life; that when he shall come again in power and great triumph to judge the world, we may without shame or fear rejoice to behold his appearing." (BCP pg. 378 − italics mine).

Technically, the doctrine of the Second Coming of Christ is called the Parousia (Greek for "presence" or "arrival.") and the whole enterprise of judgment and the end of the world is called Eschatology (Greek for "last" and "discourse.")

John the Baptist, Jesus' mentor and forerunner, used the image of an axe laid to a tree (Luke 3:9) to suggest that the old order is passing away and a new world is coming. For John, the call was to repent (change one's life orientation) for the "end" is near. Jesus and his disciples also expected an imminent dawning of the Kingdom of God in the world.

"And there will be signs in sun and moon and stars and upon the earth distress of nations in perplexity…And then they will see the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near…Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away till all has taken place." (Luke 21:25-28 − italics mine)

St. Paul was clearly driven by expectations of Christ's imminent return. His off-putting counsel for slaves to remain in their slavery and not seek their freedom and for folk not to seek to change their marital status and even his admonitions about a woman's place in worship − so inconsistent with his mystical vision in Galatians 3:28: "there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are one in Christ Jesus" − may have been grounded in his sense that this world and its arrangements will end shortly. To focus on temporal concerns − bondage vs. freedom - would be a distraction from the real goal of repentance and holiness before Christ who is coming in judgment within a few days or months. Paul's urgency to preach the gospel is motivated by there being so little time to reach (save) so many.

Eschatological (end times) expectation reaches its height in the highly symbolic and poetic imagery of John on the penal island of Patmos. In chapter 21:1-2 of his Revelations, John shared his vision of the dawning of a new reality: "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away…And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God."

As the ages rolled on, Christian expectation of an imminent return would contend with the reality of a clear delay. After Constantine, when the futures of church and state become intertwined in the destiny of Christian Empire and persecution was reserved for those outside rather than inside the Church; interest in the Eschaton (the end) recedes but does not disappear entirely.

Each generation, hearing anew passages about the end times, has looked about them and discerned afresh signs of the end of the world in their generation. In an obscure Russian village in the medieval period, a series of earthquakes and other natural but frightening phenomena sent such panic through the people that believers constructed wooden coffins for themselves, dug graves in the countryside and laid down to await the end. When it did not come, after a time they got up and went back to the fields to work. But predictions of the end, based on reading the signs of the times, seem to be an ever present reality in Christian history.

I suggest that a major shift in all of this can be traced to a new and novel way of reading scripture which emerged in world history following the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century and centered in the Puritan call for grounding authority in scripture alone without the balancing benefits of church teaching/traditions (sola scriptura). Reading the bible in a literalistic way with the presumption that through the power of the Holy Spirit, the words can interpret themselves to the faithful reader, has lead to misunderstanding and a misinterpretation of holy texts, especially when metaphor and symbol are read as fact and prediction, when apocrypha (the Book of Daniel, Revelations) is read as prophesy (misunderstood as oracle/future prediction). John's visions on Patmos, written for his generation and offering in highly veiled language the hope of vindication in the face of present day persecution, when misread as prophesy about the future, becomes determinative for social justice and advocacy.

John wrote in Revelations 20: "Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, holding in his hand the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain. And he seized the dragon (Satan)… and bound him for a thousand years...that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years were ended. Then I saw thrones, and seated on them were those to whom judgment was committed … They came to life, and reigned with Christ a thousand years."

In this vision, Satan is restrained for a millennium and the elect-believers reign with Christ for a thousand years. With Satan unable to deceive the nations, and Christ and the elect in power, it is a time of peace and prosperity.

Those who read these words in 19th century America read them in the context of a worldview that was hopeful and progressive. The scientific and industrial age promised an exciting new world in the near future and humankind was filled with confidence that it could shape its destiny. Emerging new "sciences" (economics, psychology) promised to unlock the mysteries of the human city and psyche. Evangelicals and fundamentalists interpreted Revelations 20 as a post-millenialist vision. That is, that Christ would come at the end (post-) of a thousand year reign of peace that believers were obligated to create. We are reminded of the ancient Jewish dictum that if all the Jews kept all the Torah for one day, one hour, the Messiah would come. Thus infused with fervor and hope, Christians engaged to make the world (America anyway) safe for Jesus. The anti-slavery movement, women's education movement and fighting urban poverty in tenements in the North were just some of the issues engaged by the Christian Churches.

But the Civil War − and the influx of non-Protestant immigrants in the early 20th century, particularly Roman Catholics − dampened the zeal and enthusiasm of fundamentalists for social justice. Overtime, these Christians − discouraged and disheartened − began to re-read the text with a new eye.

That "new eye" was an obscure Scottish theologian, John Nelson Darby who, writing in the 1830's, advocated a pre-millennial reading of Revelation 20. Under this interpretation, Christ comes prior to (pre-) the millennium and in fact, is the one who initiates and determines it. Thus Christians are off the hook for any social injustice, environmental degradation or economic disparity because Jesus is coming soon to usher in a new age in which all that is wrong will be addressed; not by us, but by him. The only responsibility real believers have is to prepare to reign with Jesus over the infidels (non-Christians) and those who have not been born again (you and I).

So the goal of the Christian life is not to help enable the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth but to keep oneself free from the stain of sin (pure). In some traditions, this meant not smoking, drinking, gambling, dancing, wearing make-up and especially refraining from sexual intimacy before marriage − all to be worthy of reigning (judging) with Christ.

"Then two men will be in the field; one is taken and one is left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one is taken and one is left. Watch, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming." (Matthew 24: 40-42)

The novel new doctrine of the Rapture claims that the righteous will be "snatched up" to reign over (i.e. judge) the nations.

That theological interpretation of ancient texts informs how some individually live their lives is undeniable. In the L. A. Times of Sept. 2, 2006; there was an article about the pastor of one of the Calvary Chapels who struggles with doubts about fundamentalist's traditions. He is quoted as saying: "To use the Book of Revelation for prognostication, to me, is just ridiculous. I knew of a guy who was racking up debt because he just assumed he was going to get raptured and wouldn't have to pay for it."

That our corporate lives are similarly impacted is becoming clearer as social policy is determined by politicians who are formed in fundamentalist's traditions and who's reading of apocrypha as prophesy informs foreign policy in the Middle East.

The answer, of course, is not to argue for either a pre- or a post − millennialist interpretation of Revelation 20 but rather to suggest that the bible contains a variety of types of literature and that just as one would not read Winnie the Pooh in the same way as one would read an Introduction to Quantum Physics; nor should one read apocrypha, prophesy, history, myth, gospel, correspondence (Paul and others) and wisdom literature (to name a few) as fact. Indeed, reading the bible factually is itself a product of the modernist/scientific paradigm and does little more than rob sacred texts of their poetry and depth of meaning.

And yet, we week by week affirm our belief as Episcopalians in a Second Coming of Christ. While we reject a literalist interpretation of the Book of Revelation, what do we mean when we recite the Nicene Creed at 8 a.m. ("He will come again to judge the living and the dead, and his Kingdom will have no end") and the Mystery of Faith at 10:30 a.m. ("Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again") or when we affirm that truth found in the Catechism ("The Christian hope is…to await the coming of Christ in glory, and the completion of God's purpose in the world.") BCP pg. 861.

I asked this question: "What do you believe about the Second Coming of Christ?" of an adult book study group and then subsequently of the Men's Fellowship over dinner. I was somewhat surprised by how few believed in a literal Parousia. Indeed, there was an interesting tapestry of interpretations and I marveled again at our theological diversity as a congregation.

Not a few people were drawn to an interpretation theologian's call a "realized eschatology." This interpretation simply suggests that in Christ's life and ministry and his death and resurrection, the Kingdom of God is already present and is working toward its conclusion.

Some went even further.

For John's gospel, Jesus is met by Mary Magdalene who initially believes him to be the cemetery gardener. When Jesus says her name "Mary", she exclaims "Rabboni!" and runs to embrace him. Jesus tells her not to seek to touch him because "I have not yet ascended to the Father." (John 20:17). That night, he comes into the upper room and commissions the disciples, showing them his hands and his side. In the intervening time between Mary's encounter in the morning and the disciples encounter that night, where had Jesus been? Had he "ascended to the father" and then "come again?" Something clearly has shifted because seven days later, Thomas who has rejoined the eleven, is invited to poke and prod and touch and see the resurrected (and ascended and returned?) savior. Did John craft his story, writing as he did very late in the first century, in such a way as to try and address the delay of the Christ?

For still others, the Pentecost story is the fulfillment of a Second Coming of the Spirit of Christ (see Acts 1:1-4).

For still others, Jesus' coming is an ongoing revelation as Christ comes again and again to the saints throughout the ages and to us − you and I − today. For one of our discussion participants, Christ is whenever we as disciples work together to live into the values of the Kingdom and serve the world in his name, seeking to make it a more just place.

But for those who do not foresee the coming of the Kingdom of God as a radical breaking into time from the future but rather stress that the power of the Kingdom was initiated by the Christ event and that God's power for salvation is active and unfolding in the world − the difference between intervention and disjunction and evolution and process perhaps − where is the impetus for urgency? For those who believe that the end is near − or at least coming soon − there is some motivation to evangelism (to reach others with the message of salvation) and to personal moral correctness (to be worthy of the Rapture). There is a certain urgency to life changing behavior for those who − like the disciples, St. Paul and the primitive Jewish Christians of the first century - believe the eschaton is near.

For those who have a different theological understanding − a more moderate, "unfolding" and even ultimately irrepressible theology of the end times − is there a similar urgency? I'm not so sure. But what can be said is this: that some of those who are driven by millennial expectation often seem to be motivated by fear. Conversely, some of those who anticipate that the world will gently roll on indefinitely (at least until the sun burns up all at its supernova) claim to be motivated not by fear but by love. A love of creation which impels to environmental stewardship; a love of all God's people, which impels to social and economic justice and so on. But when the deadline for change is indeterminate − measured in centuries rather than decades − it is easier to procrastinate. The difference between fundamentalist and liberal Christians may be a difference of fervor.

As Advent approaches, this would be a good time to re-read these ancient texts and to ask yourself: "what is it that I believe about the Second Coming of Christ and the eschaton (end) of all things?" What is your personal theology? Is it still being formed? Is it changing? These are good questions to ask to be sure but the most important thing to realize is that there is more than one right answer. That is to say, as Anglicans we have historically agreed to live with a certain ambiguity and theological imprecision. We are not all of one mind but we can all be of one heart in loving God and our neighbor. What unites us is not common belief but common worship. Those who share Christ's body and blood with us come from a variety of backgrounds and beliefs but we share "one bread, one cup."