First Sunday of Advent

“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” ~ Matthew 24:36–44
The Left Behind series of books are some of the
most popular to ever grace the bookshelves of American Christian bookstores.
This is a shame. And a sham. Why? Because they are bogus. Bunk. Christian
fiction of the highest order. And while there is biblical merit—if we want to
even call it that—it takes a twisting and manipulation of the texts in order to
get to a place where we seriously think the Bible argues that in the last days,
Christians will be raptured up to heaven while the rest of humanity is left to
face the destruction of the planet, and thus, their own miserable deaths.
Sadly, today’s text is one of those that gets used to place Christians into the
shackles of fear.
This doesn’t have to be the case, however. If we look
closely at the text, we’ll actually see that the opposite of what the Rapture
theologians teach is true. So, to begin, let’s compare the Greek words for
“taken” (paralambano) and “left” (aphiemi), because this is where
things get rather interesting. The Friborg Lexicon has this to say about the
word we translate to “left,” as in “left behind:”
(1) send off or away, let go (MT 27.50); (2) as a legal technical term divorce (1C 7.11); (3) abandon, leave behind (MT 26.56); (4) of duty and obligation reject, set aside, neglect (MK 7.8); (5) of toleration let go, leave in peace, allow (MK 11.6); (6) of sins or debts forgive, pardon, cancel (LU 7.47); (7) give or utter a loud cry (MK 15.37).
Did you notice that? To
be “left behind” is to be forgiven. Rapture theology teaches the opposite:
those left behind are those who are left to face life without peace, mercy,
forgiveness, and so on. But the text in Matthew 24 teaches that those left
behind are really those who, like Noah before the flood, are faithful and thus
are those who are spared from the coming destruction.
So, what, if not a flood
of epic proportions sent by God to smite the wicked, is this passage all about?
To answer that, we’ll have to get anthropological because, if you aren’t yet
aware, the flood that happened in the days of Noah is completely due to the
rising tide of violence that humanity—not God—caused. We’ll also have to take a
look at the “son of man” phrase because that will be key in understanding what
is really going on here.
First, let’s look at what
causes the flood in Genesis. In Genesis 6:5, the writer states that “every
inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil all the time.” So, in
other words, as Michael Hardin points out in The Jesus Driven Life, this
is a psychological explanation for the problem of evil.[1] To put it simply, it’s an
issue of the heart: the inclination of the heart is mediated desire derived
from the imitation of those around us. In Genesis 6:11, the writer then tells
us what this leads to: “the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and full of
violence.” Corrupt hearts, full of evil inclinations, and saturated with human
violence. This is the cause of the flood.
Now, I will admit that
the writer(s) of Genesis indeed state that God sends the flood to wipe out
humanity because of our propensity toward violence and corruption. But that
need not be our theology. We have Jesus, and if there is one thing that we’ve
learned about Jesus, it’s that he tends to do a number on our theological
presuppositions. This is where the “son of man” phrase comes into play.
You see, the phrase “the
son of man” was, first off, Jesus’ favorite self-designation and secondly, only
used by him. No one else calls him that. Why is this important? Because the
phrase is used by him as a corporate designation, meaning that when Jesus uses
it, it’s to say that he is a stand-in for all of humanity. And if Jesus is God,
as any good Trinitarian theologian would suggest, then that means that
God—Jesus—identifies with humanity in spite of our violence and corruption. He
doesn’t imitate our violence by bringing about even bigger violence; he stands
with us in the midst of it, refusing to imitate it all the while. This is
important because, on the one hand, Jesus is the key figure who doesn’t get
caught up in the rising tide of violence that was around him. Although
corruption and violence were going to be coming down onto Jerusalem within that
generation, Jesus was going to be the beacon of hope, the ark, that withstands
such a flood. But on the other hand, the invitation is sent out to anyone who
wants to join him in being “left behind” to stand in solidarity with the
nonviolent Lord. As Paul Neuchterlein writes, “We are called to follow in the
footsteps of his [Jesus’] faithfulness. Baptized, we are those who die and rise
with him so that we might also be left behind when the next rising tide of
human violence rolls our way. We are those who resist joining in. Living in
faith, we do not get carried away.”[2]
Amen to that. Resist
corruption and violence, and be left behind with Jesus to confidently face the
evil of this world.
[1] Hardin, The Jesus Driven Life,
189.
[2] Neuchterlein, “Advent 1A,” sec. 4,
para. 7.
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