A Liberal’s Belief in the Rapture

I believe in the rapture.

I believe in the rapture as a liberal religionist in general, and a Unitarian Universalist in particular. I don’t claim to know when the rapture will occur, or what it will entail, but I believe in the rapture. I believe in it because of the modern liberal’s unwillingness and inability to employ religious imagination to pragmatic matters of living. I believe in it because it demands that I push the boundaries of what I can conceive and know about the meaning of our life and times.

I have read countless numbers of dismissals of the rapture predicted to occur today. These are smug and snide rebukes of the literalism and hubris of someone claiming to know the will of God in matters pertaining to the fate of space and time. Of course, the claim that any one person makes that he or she can know things beyond what humanity can know, is hubris. But, that it is deemed worthy of the manner of the liberal rebuke begs several questions, not the least of which is why certain modern liberals conceive it necessary to comment in this manner!

I write this because belief in the rapture is a particular form of a general belief concerning the nature of time.

I believe in the rapture because it carries with it a belief in the future. The classic conservative doesn’t believe in the future, but holds an allegiance to a past from which the present has descended and atrophied. The orthodox hold that the spiritually pure grasp and live by a correct adherence to a doctrine declaring that God was revealed in a past act; Moses at Sinai, Mohammed and Mecca, Jesus on the cross. Even the most broadminded of the orthodox look to yesterday in holding that these events form the “center of time,” when the meaning and purpose of existence changed through God’s intervention in this world. But, still, the emphasis is on the past as the bearer of meaning.

My faith is both a protest of that, and a declaration of something different.

I believe in the rapture because I believe in the future. I seek to employ a hermeneutic of suspicion, which demands that I realize I do not and cannot know when, where, or how. But, to “believe in” the rapture in the most basic way possible, is to assert that time will be fulfilled ahead of us, in a future that is “not yet,” as opposed to in a time behind and before. It is to claim that the future means something, though we cannot say with certainty today what that is. The future is yet to be determined. Thus, our activity today gains a heightened significance. To believe in the rapture is to take the stance of hope over lament and despair. And, it is to locate us as agents and participants and co-creators of that hope. What you believe in and work for and towards today, means something, not because of a past blueprint, but a future possibility. Those who seek to employ the hermeneutic of suspicion need to remind those who are certain they know when, where, and how, that doubt outlines the boundaries of our humanity in what we can and cannot know; what can and cannot be understood by us, or say for sure. But to the modern liberal, the threat of employing a hermeneutic of suspicion is to mistake the method for the substance. It is a tool for deepening faith, not faith itself. No one can stand very long on a foundation that is suspect, the object of unrelenting doubt, the shifting sands of uncertainty and mistrust. Anyone who has been in an earthquake knows you cannot stand when everything is constantly shifting, and yet, most of life is composed of moments of stability. Quakes subside and aftershocks disappear. Your allegiance, ultimately, resides in something. And doubt and suspicion - while excellent tools to outline what we can and cannot know, what we are and are not privy to - are poor substitutes for faith.

I believe in the rapture because I believe there is yet more meaning to be revealed tomorrow. I believe in the rapture because I believe time will be redeemed and fulfilled at last. I believe there is more to existence than the material, and that the expanding and expanse of the universe and all that exists far outdistances our capacities to create meaning in time. I don’t know where it will happen, how it will happen, or when; and, those things don’t really matter to me. But belief in tomorrow over yesterday is not unconnected to holding that love conquers fear. And, I do love today, even more than I loved yesterday, and not as much as I will love tomorrow. And I look with hope to what is yet to unfold.

A Holy Kind of Spirit

About fifteen years ago there arose a focus amongst younger clergy concerning “ministerial presence.” I even remember talking with a younger colleague who spoke of a “theology of presence.” I just didn’t know what she meant. Being liberal religionists the conversation was not about Christ’s immanence, but a more vague recognition of the power of simple human presence as critical to the pastoral moment, be that moment whatever it might be. Theologically it was closer to an understanding of the immanence of the Holy Spirit; the idea that when people are in close proximity to one another, especially during particularly stressful or traumatic times, and that closeness is characterized by a certain kind of care and concern and giving (a certain kind of “Covenant of Being,” as one theologian called it), then a Spirit leaps across the boundaries of personhood to connect us to one another in deeply meaningful ways. It is a unique feature of human existence that this kind of deep sharing and connection can occur. And it seems there is no better word to describe that than a “holy” kind of “Spirit.”

Comedian Woody Allen has been quoted as saying, “90% of life is just showing up,” and “80% of success is showing up.” Whatever the percentage, and whatever the effect, presence has certain qualities to it to which certain fruits can be attributed. This is apparent to ministers and educators, but maybe less so to others in our internet world. It’s a different experience to offer succor to someone in the hospital via a phone text. Likewise, it’s a different kind of class conversation conducted online.

Presence yields something more.

When one is present to and with another, one is vulnerable because of the face to face encounter. Body language and voice inflection give one up to those with eyes to see and ears to hear. The more there is at stake during the encounter, the more one wonders, “What should I say?” If you are “present” with someone who is facing a terminal illness or cancer diagnosis, or the loss of a spouse or child or marriage, or is at wits end as to how to help their children get their life back on track or what to do with “Mother’s mental demise,” your mind often races through all the scenarios of what to say, trying desperately to find those magical words which, set in perfect sequence, would restore order to chaos. Presence exacts something from us, as we extend ourselves to others and, by our care, help them shoulder an unimaginable burden. Empathy and sympathy are emotionally and physically painful and exhausting. Yet, if 90% of life and 80% of success, is showing up, the power of that “holy” kind of “Spirit,” which transforms us as we cannot transform ourselves, is 100% in our willingness to show up.

This may be an odd commentary on a Facebook driven world.

At 56 years of age I am just inside the Baby Boomer demographic, and it is true that we are the “Me Generation.” But today, life is driven by the “Look at Me Generation,” embodied by Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Web Sites, Streaming, and YouTube; even blogs, I am afraid, which this is one! This is not the kind of presence to which my younger colleagues fifteen years ago were referring. It is more the “advertisement of Me,” be that “Me” an individual, institution, or organization. And those wonders of the internet world have a usefulness in terms of disseminating information. But, it is not presence, and most importantly, none provide the conditions for that “holy” kind of “Spirit” tied to face-to-face, human contact. There is a kind of hug that gives another permission to let go emotionally without fear that the chaos of unrestrained sentiment will swallow one up. There is a way to shake someone’s hand that gives to them an affirmation of self, of being looked straight in the eye and acknowledged, that no other form of human contact can conjure up. There is something about another individual calling us by name, and being with us to hear what our experience, and interpretation of our experience, is. It’s not rocket science or magic, but it is the healing presence of a “holy” kind of “Spirit” that is carried like an electric current, between two people and, in rare instances and in the best of ways, through gathered groups at certain times and places.