OT XXXIII [B]  Dn 12:1-3; Heb 10:11-14, 18; Mk 13:24-32

At the age of 20, Art Berg was a very happy man. Everything was going right. He was a gifted athlete and had started his own tennis court construction company. And he was engaged to a beautiful woman. Leaving California one Christmas eve, he was headed to Utah with a friend. He was going to meet his fiancée and complete their wedding plans.

During the long drive, he fell asleep while at the wheel. His car hit an abutment and rolled down a hill. He was ejected from the car and found himself laying on the desert with a broken neck. He was paralyzed from the chest down. He completely lost the use of his legs and arms. The doctors concluded that he could never play sports again and would be dependent on others the rest of his life. One even suggested he forget getting married.

Art Berg was really afraid. It was the darkest moment in his life. The "end times" were upon him. In the midst of his peril his mother came and whispered a few words in his ear. "Art, while the difficult takes time, the impossible takes a little longer." In other words, "don’t panic!" Suddenly, Art’s darkness was filled with a light of hope. That was eleven years ago. Today Art Berg is president of his own company, a professional speaker and author. He has gained back some of the use of his arms and legs and can now drive. He travels across the country sharing his message, "that the impossible just takes a little longer." Art married his fiancée and they have two children. He has even returned to the world of sports, swimming and scuba diving. In l993 Art was the first quadriplegic to race 32 miles in a marathon, all because he didn’t panic.

Today’s first and third readings are about the future. ‘Apocalyptic’ is the word used to describe the kind of writing we see in today’s gospel reading.  Biblical apocalypse was written in times of persecution, to encourage the persecuted by telling them that their sufferings were foreseen by God, and that they would prevail in the end.  Courage, not fear, was being promoted. 

The readings give us the assurance that our God will be with us all the days of our lives and that we will have the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst guiding, protecting and strengthening us in spite of our necessary human uncertainty concerning the end-time when “Christ will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”  Next Sunday is the Thirty-fourth and last Sunday in our liturgical year when we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King, and the following Sunday marks the beginning of the Advent season with a new Liturgical Cycle.  Each year at this time, the Church asks us to mediate on the “last things” – Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell -- as they apply to us.

The Gospel of Mark was written in the year 69 AD, just one year before the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem, at a time when the Romans were suppressing Jewish protests and persecuting Christians.  Many Christians began wondering why Jesus did not return as he had promised.  Some even wondered whether he had really been the promised Messiah.  Hence, Mark tried to strengthen their faith by quoting Jesus’ predictions of the coming persecution of the faithful (13:9-13), the destruction of Jerusalem (13:2, 7-9, 14-20), the rise of the Anti-Christ (13:5-6, 21-23), the end of the world, and Christ’s Second Coming (13:24-26).  Mark also offered hope to a persecuted community by reminding the people of Jesus’ promise that wars, natural disasters and betrayal by family members would be overcome when the Son of Man returned to gather in his loved ones.

What can we take from this apocalyptic language?  One aspect of it we can relate to fairly readily in our day: transience.  Everything is passing, everything that is living will die.  In an age of immense and rapid change we cannot fail to see that everything is passing.  In some part of our minds we would like to hold this reality away from us because it is too painful to think about.  But the Scriptures tell us to think about these things.  It is a pagan thing to deny death and transience, for if there is no death there is no resurrection. 

Every moment my personal world, with its dream of permanence, is coming to an end.  Every moment, because my world is coming to an end, I see that I cannot find security in the past but must throw myself on God's mercy, every moment.

Jesus tells us that our personal “end-time” is a prelude to eternal happiness.  However, we are all so taken in by our secular culture’s fascination and glamour that we are sometimes embarrassed or saddened by the signs of our own approaching end.  We foolishly consider growing old as an evil thing, rather than as a warning from a loving God to prepare to meet Him and to give an account of our lives.  Our aches and pains and frequent “doctor’s appointments” in our senior years should remind us of God’s warning that we are growing unfit to live in this world, and that we have to get ready for another world of eternal happiness. 

The end of the world should never be thought of as depressing, disheartening or frightening because we are in the hands of a good and loving God.  Christ’s second coming gives us the message that God is journeying with us in the trials and difficulties of life and that His word is ever-present as a light of hope.  He speaks to us through the Bible.  We have the Eucharist as a sign that God is with us, in our midst.  Holy Communion is our point of direct, personal contact with God.  That is why the holy Mass is special: the more fully and frequently we participate in the Mass, the more deeply the Lord can come to us, and the more completely He can remain with us. Let no one frighten us with disturbing descriptions of the end of the world because “the end” is all about the birth of everyone and everything into eternity.