One day in 1780 the sky over New England turned dark at 9:00 in the morning. All of nature was disoriented and terrified. The people said, “This is the day of judgment!” It lasted until midnight, when the stars began to appear in the sky.
The strange occurrence is thought to have been caused by a combination of smoke from forest fires and a heavy fog. But at the time, there was great concern, even after the darkness lifted, as people became obsessed with the idea of a pending apocalypse.
There was a sect of Christians in the area that benefitted from this – the Shakers. They took advantage of this end-times anxiety and went on an evangelistic tour of New England, preaching their beliefs and practices. The Shakers believed in preparing themselves for the end by giving up their worldly goods and practicing celibacy. They gained hundreds of converts during this period of high anxiety.
The Shakers continued to thrive for several decades, reaching their height in the first half of the 19th century, but by the mid-20th century their numbers were dwindling fast. In 2017, they had only two remaining members, aged 58 and 77. So, even though the end of the world did not arrive, the end of the Shakers, finally, did.
Perhaps they were following Paul’s words to the Corinthians a bit too literally.
Throughout time there have been groups that became convinced that the end was coming soon, very soon. Some opted for survivalist practices, others just lay their bodies down and waited. It’s hard to know what to do, when the end is imminent. But the bigger problem with all of this is that each one of these groups got it wrong. Every single time. Because no one really knows how much time there is.
Back in the earliest days of the church, Jesus’ followers did believe that he would be returning soon. Paul’s earliest letters seem to reflect this belief, along with concerns about what would happen to believers who died during this time of waiting. It didn’t seem right that they should miss out on the great reunion with Jesus. But by the time Paul was writing this letter, it is likely that he was reforming his understanding of what it all meant. He was growing less literal in his thinking and his writing.
For us this raises the question of how we are to understand words like, “the appointed time has grown short” and “the present form of this world is passing away.” Groups like the Shakers and others believed they were going to leave this world behind, very soon. For us, though, we need to rethink what it might mean to leave this present world behind.
There is a novel that I read a while ago, called “Leave the World Behind.” And the story is about a family, the Sandfords, living in New York City, struggling with all the things modern Americans struggle with: the feeling that they are on a treadmill, that they are overwhelmed with demands and needs and obligations, that they are forever trying to get ahead, but always seem to be falling behind.
So sick of other people, they just wanted to get away from them. So sick of their less than satisfying careers, they just wanted to get away from them. So sick of their less than beautiful city apartment, they just wanted to get away.
And so in a moment of inspiration they decide to take a mini-vacation. Rent a beautiful house on Long Island, near the beach. Live in luxury for a few days. Leave the world behind.
So the Sandfords pack up their play clothes, bathing suit, towels and sunscreen, their books, their iPads, their phones, their headphones and earbuds, their charges and accessories. They all pile in the car: dad at the wheel, mom on a work phone call, two kids in the back seat, each with their devices watching their favorite shows. Everything is sublime.
But when they get there, they discover that cell service is spotty, wi-fi is weak. Heavens to Betsy, they might be untethered from their electronics. Could this be a good thing? They are not sure. They wanted to get away from the things of life that annoy them, but not from the things that amuse them.
Soon the story begins to turn dark, just like the skies over 18th century New England. Wi-fi goes dead. Power out. Tesla self-driving cars go haywire. It’s a total disaster. And there is no GPS, so no one even knows how to get anywhere.
But that’s not the worst of it. Planes fall from the sky. Weird sounds pierce the air, wildlife begins acting strangely, like they own the place or something. It’s really happening. The present form of this world is passing away.
The Sandfords wanted to leave the world behind, but the world, as it was, left them behind. They were forced to begin finding a way in a different world.
Of course, this story is no more real than the beliefs of all the end-times sects that have come and gone. But this one made me think about what Paul might want to say to us about living in a world like this one.
I believe that in these verses from Corinthians Paul is really talking about attachment to the things of this world. If we let our attachments to anything in this world grow too tight, too desperate, then we leave no room for the power that exists most completely outside of this world.
Perhaps it is helpful to think of it in the context of idols. People of faith are cautioned against making and worshiping false idols, but we often have trouble really understanding what that has to do with us. Back in the days of Moses, it seemed to mostly be about the making of golden calves, that sort of thing. But we should understand that idols come in every form imaginable, and some we haven’t yet imagined. Anything that consumes you – your time, your attention, your money – could be an idol. Anything that you are enslaved to, it could be an idol. And an idol always gets between you and your commitment, your trust, your devotion to God.
Paul would want to say to us that we should consider the time to be short, that we should live as if the moment we are in matters. And whatever it is for us that gets in the way of seeing God, loving God, trusting God fully and deeply in this moment, we are to let go of it. Act as though it doesn’t really matter.
And in this way, some of those end-times groups were right. Let go of the attachments to the things of this world. But not for the reason they thought.
Let go of attachments not because God is going to beam us up, scoop us up, or carry us up on a spaceship away from this world. Let go because only then will you be ready to live as God intends for you to live in this world.
To love this world that God created. To love all the people and other creatures God made. To love the way God loves. That kind of love is something we are incapable of, really. Only by trusting fully in God can we do it.
The Sandford family thought their problem was other people. They thought the problem was their boring jobs, their disappointing home. But those were not the problems. The real problem was their failure to understand what really matters. When the present form of this world passes away, what is left? That is what matters.
For them, ironically, it was people. One another, yes, but also the strangers they had learned to trust. The strangers who became friends; the ones they needed, who needed them.
Many centuries ago, the psalmist wrote these words: “For God alone I wait in silence. God is my rock and my salvation.” The people sang and repeated these words, again and again, reminding themselves that God alone is their salvation, God alone is worthy of this complete trust. Long before there were cell phones, self-driving cars, and smart electronics, the people needed to continually remind themselves of this: the world is full of distractions, but God alone is worthy of trust. God alone is our salvation.
All thanks and glory be to God.
Photo from NASA
