Editorial: the rapture of it all

How many of The Record’s readers are still here is one quite interesting question following predictions of the Rapture last weekend. For that small number of people unaware of the most recent developments in the world of faith, it had been predicted (in the US – where else?) by a Christian radio host with the very interesting name of Harold Camping that the Rapture, otherwise known as the beginning of the End Times, would occur on 21 May, probably at about 6pm in the evening and then progressively move across the face of the earth, timezone by timezone. Mr Camping, who trained as a mathematician, was adamant in the leadup to his 21 May deadline that there could be no question the end of the world was nigh; the numbers in the Bible, he confidently asserted in numerous media interviews, were, not to put too fine a point on it, rock solid.

If the Rapture, a belief apparently based on one line from the First Letter of St Paul to the Thessalonians, did actually occur then those of us left behind are undoubtedly in some trouble. The line in question is 1Thess 4:17 which reads: “…and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.” But did the Rapture really take place? As Professor Henry Higgins tells Colonel Pickering in My Fair Lady, hope is a virtue, and while it is theoretically possible the Rapture may have happened last weekend (although apparently in nowhere near as spectacular a fashion as one would have thought for such an important event as the beginning of the end of the world) there are also some grounds for hoping that it did not happen at all. In this editorial The Record is leaning towards the second possibility.
The Rapture that did not happen is still, for Christians, fertile ground for reflection as well as for satire and humour. And there is some cause for sadness too. Of course it is true that, from the Christian perspective, there is no doubt the world will end one day. And it is theoretically possible that we will be around to see it happen – or at least the early phases – before we are all swept away. But the real end of the world, for each of us, is most likely the moment we leave this life behind and walk through the door that leads into eternal love with God. What this will be like is beyond our capacity to imagine, we know that much, but it is something we hope and pray for. How we have lived out lives up until that point is the critical issue. Whether we have learned to love seems to be the main thing that will matter. This is the bit about the end of the world that one suspects Mr Camping did not spend enough time decoding, at least in comparison to his numerological investigations.
However the confident predictions of the Rapture-that-was-not also invite reflection on the necessity of having a Church that can be relied upon in matters of faith. The whole problem was really that one individual (and only the latest in a long line of individuals or organisations predicting the end of the world) came up with an actual date only by following his own highly eccentric series of hunches and extraordinarily peculiar interpretations of a variety of passages throughout the Bible. Mr Camping undoubtedly meant well but there is little doubt his main achievements will only have been to (a) alarm many credulous people and (b) make Christians and Christianity look ridiculous and unbelievable in the eyes of a contemporary culture already well disposed in that direction. In other words, highly enthusiastic eccentrics convinced of their own personal infallibility in matters of religious faith and magnified globally by a media hot for any alarmism it can trumpet from the rooftops, can actually do a lot of personal harm when the credulous believe their claims and a lot of social harm as well. One complication is that they almost always have impeccable intentions.
Mr Camping and his wild predictions contrast starkly with the reality of the Church. Often painted as a rule-bound, unfeeling institution, the Church is actually the most liberal institution on the face of the earth. It is a community whose membership is not bound by time and space. It is a communion of persons gathered around Christ which exists simultaneously in time and outside of it, the only institution in the world that can make this claim. It is the only institution in the world whose membership can draw instantly in prayer upon nothing less than the power of heaven to overcome life’s challenges, to find the way forward through a life that can, at times, seem nightmarish. And it is also an institution, as Christ intended, with guarantees attached to it as well.
Mr Camping sadly demonstrates the difference between unguided religious fervour in which no ultimate confidence can be placed, and an institution such as the Church which has been given authority by Christ. One makes wild predictions, the other reveals the wildest truth of a God who is Love. One is guided by bizarre theories about the meaning of unrelated numbers, the other, even despite the sinfulness of its members, is guided by the Holy Spirit. One can, unwittingly, obscure for others the truth about life, the other reveals life that is eternal. To put it in the words young people would use today, one is totally random. The basic lesson of Mr Camping’s mathematical error is the one already spoken by Christ (and the Church), that we are not to worry about tomorrow because today’s problems are enough for now. The other lesson is that the Church is not only a way but a safeguard, a restraint upon the wild enthusiasms of the naive, and something that can be trusted absolutely in its faith. Seen in this way, it is immaterial when the end of the world is to happen. How we face it in our own daily lives is what will count more than anything else at all.