The clocks are ticking and 2011 is about to end and it’s about to be 2012. For some, this is a big deal.

A lot of people, from various walks of life, think that something big is about to happen. In the past year, a fundamentalist Christian radio personality name Harold Camping got not one, but two, 15 minutes of fame for casting predictions that the world would end in 2011 – and a lot of his followers maxed out their credit cards, sold their life’s possessions, and one woman slit her children’s throats and tried to kill herself in preparation.

And it’s not just certain Christian types who are excited by the setting of 2011 and the rising of 2012. Many Americans are suddenly fascinated with an ancient Mayan calendar. It seems that a stone Mayan calendar relic has been determined to stop on Dec. 21-24th, 2012. Some are interpreting this as indicating the end of the world, the end of time, as THE end. (though not everyone, see this companion blog)

It’s a bit odd for these, largely white, modern Americans who have few, if any, rootings to the ancient Mayan peoples or culture to have gravitated to this ancient relic. It’s perhaps even odder for them to embrace part of that ancient religion/culture while seemingly being oblivious or indifferent to that ancient culture’s barbaric practices of human sacrifice. It’s PC to be into the Mayan calendar. It’s not PC to talk about Mayan rituals and practices. Even more ironic is that most of the people who are into the Mayan calendar prophesies tend to be folks who are anti-Christian and who favor the separation of church and state. The ancient Mayans were a strictly theocratic society and rivaled the worst of the medieval theocracies and today’s Islamic states in their harsh enforcement of their moral codes and beliefs.

But not everyone who is “into 2012” thinks that it means the end of the world. Some, more New Agey types, believe that many of our world’s recently born children are “more evolved” with heightened gifts and sensitivities. These folks believe that this new “Indigo children” generation will perhaps attain a critical mass in 2012 that will effect a positive shift and transformation of the world for the better. It seems to be a revisiting of the “The Age of Aquarius” motif celebrated by hippies in the 1960’s.

Who knows? Maybe something big will happen in 2012! … but 2012 isn’t this coming year. It already took place 4-6 years from ago!

“What?!?”

Strange piece of trivia. Jesus wasn’t born in the year 1 A.D.

A.D. comes from the Latin “Anno Domini” means “the year of our Lord” so when we say 2011 or 2012, whether we know it or not, we’re employing the Christian calendar and we’re saying “the Year of Our Lord 2012.” B.C. comes from the English “Before Christ.”

Wait a minute Roger, did you say that “Jesus wasn’t born in the year 1 A.D.”? If B.C. means before Christ, doesn’t that mean that Jesus was born in 1 A.D.?

Yeah, that’d make sense — if it weren’t for the mistake.

In 525 a monk employed by Pope John I committed an epic (pun intended) “FAIL.” When the Western world switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian one that we now use, the dating for when Jesus was thought to have been born was inadvertently altered by 4-6 years. That monk, Dionysius Exiguus (the inventor of Annos Domini), forgot to factor in that Jesus was born under the reign of King Herod and Herod is known to have died in what we mistakenly refer to as 4.B.C. If Jesus were born later than 5 B.C., he would have been too young to fit the Gospel of Luke’s report that he began his ministry at about 30 years of age. Since there is no year zero, that means that the third millennium after the birth of Christ probably started in November or December 1996.[1] So, in reality, you need to add 4 –6 years to whatever year it happens to be, i.e. when you read this blog in 2012, it’s actually 2016-18!  [[Revised & Corrected. see comment below]]!

There’s a lot that can be said when it comes to discussing these matters. Theological issues such as “eschatology,” “apocalypse,” “post-tribulation,” “millennialism,” “the rapture,” and the like tend to be part of the landscape of this territory. I speak to those topics in my book Kissing Fish: christianity for people who don’t like christianity. And you can read the full chapter where I discuss those matters at this blog: “The End Isn’t Nigh!” But frankly, that stuff isn’t essential to the Christian faith as I understand it. So I’d like to close with the concluding words of the 10^th chapter of Kissing Fish:

Progressive Christians also resonate with the late Catholic Henri Nouwen when he said, “Where will you find the Messiah? — He is sitting among the poor covered with wounds…” as well as Emergent Christian pastor Brian McClaren’s observation that “The Gospel is a transformation plan, not an evacuation plan.”

We agree that our hope is in the future, but let’s embrace and be present to the present moment.[3]

It’s hard to embrace the present without a sense of hope for the future. As Christians, we believe that God is actively seeking to move Creation toward a beautiful goal. Like Paul, we have “our eyes on the prize”[4] and we “press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called us.”[5] We sense deep in our bones that things will turn out okay — in fact, far better than we could ever imagine.

Progressive Christianity affirms Martin Luther King, Jr.’s remarks, “I refuse to accept the view that [human]kind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality …I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word,” “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” and, Martin Luther’s assertation that “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

Progressive Christians have hope in the conviction that somehow despite all sorts of evidence to the contrary, love wins.

Just a few days after the celebration of Christmas, the light of Bethlehem is eclipsed and the dark shadows of life return to the stories of young Jesus.  Tucked between Christmas Day and the Feast of Epiphany (January 6), the Massacre of Infants or Slaughter of Innocents is remembered.  In the Roman Catholic, Lutheran, and Episcopalian traditions, this moment in the biblical story is recalled on December 28; the Orthodox tradition sets aside December 29 as a day of mourning for Herod’s infanticide in Bethlehem. There is no feasting this day; just the recognition that life is both tragic and beautiful and that although the light has come, the powerful and greedy routinely seek to extinguish it.

According to Matthew’s Gospel (2:13-18), following the departure of the magi, Joseph has premonitory dream, in which he hears the voice of God, “Get up, take up the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt.”  There is a disturbance in the force, to use the imagery of the Star Wars saga, and God is moving through the shifting vibrations to alert Joseph through the nocturnal wisdom of the unconscious. Discovering that he’s been fooled by the magi, Herod is about to order the murder of every child in Bethlehem under two years of age.

The flight of the Holy Family and the Massacre of Infants reflects tragic political realities and power dynamics, both then and now.  There is nothing new about infanticide or the willful robbery of a child’s innocence.  Remember the plague, some believe that God initiated, that killed the first-born Egyptian males. Remember Joshua’s killing of every man, woman, and child in Jericho.  Remember the deaths and abuse of aboriginal children in Canada and the United States.  Remember the ashen remains of children in the Holocaust. Remember the slaughter of innocents in inter-tribal conflicts in Africa.   Remember child physical and sexual abuse in various Christian families and sects, some of which are inspired by “spare the rod, spoil the child” theologies.  Remember the familial and governmental neglect of children in the United States today as well as child starvation in the two-thirds world.

Celebration is essential to a life, but it is celebration that embraces both joy and tragedy.  Authentic celebration does not deny the evils of life, but places them in the context of the preciousness of life and, among people of faith, the reality of God’s care for those who feel pain and suffer injustice.

Massacre of infants is never accidental, then and now.  Protecting the “baby hearts” is our greatest adult responsibility toward the young, but how many turned a blind eye in Herod’s court? How many turn a blind eye today?

Philosopher Alfred North Whitehead, the parent of process theology, described God as “the fellow sufferer who understands.”  In that same spirit, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who died in a German concentration camp, asserted that only a suffering God can save us.  As Whitehead also states, God must be the source of our quest for beauty, but also the recipient and respondent to the tragedies of life.  Few have captured the ambiguity of the cosmic and human adventure as perceptibly than Whitehead: “At the heart of the nature of things, there are always the dream of youth and the harvest of tragedy.  The Adventure of the Universe starts with the dream and reaps tragic Beauty.”  This Enduring Beauty emerges only within the interplay God’s experience and our own willingness to hear the cries of the vulnerable and respond with love and healing power individually and as members of the body politic.

Good theology joins vision (the way we understand God, ourselves, and the world); promise (our ability to experience the faith we affirm); and practices (faithful actions that open us to God’s presence and our calling in the world).

The Massacre of Infants awakens us to the vision of God with us, embracing the pain of the world and inspiring us to care for the vulnerable of all ages, especially the children of the world.  It promises that we will experience joy and fulfillment by opening our hearts and hands to the infants and children of the world.  It inspires us to certain practices of caring support for the infants and children of this good earth.  (For more on the theological and spiritual interplay of vision, promise, and practice, see Bruce Epperly, Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living, Upper Room Books.)

How do we make the Massacre of Infants a holy day that transforms our lives and the world?  Among the possible practices, let us take time to listen for the child within us and the children around us.  We can practice playfulness, simplicity, and whole-hearted openness to the moment.

Second, let us move from listening to acting, from empathy to transformation, first, in our everyday relationships with children.  Let us listen to them, safely and lovingly reach out to them, and support their parents through finding ways for parents to receive respite time and adequate provisions to provide nourishment for their children.  We might choose to volunteer at school and become a big brother/big sister, scout leader, or religious education teacher.  We might insure that our own family’s children have sufficient emotional and interpersonal support. Third, our direct care for children leads to our commitment to political and community involvement.  In the spirit of the Dalai Lama, we need to create structures of welcome for each child.  It is not enough to care for the “unborn” as a focus of political involvement.  We must insure, regardless of the financial cost in terms of taxes, that every child has adequate nourishment, housing, education, and adult care.  This is a matter of individual generosity as well as sharing the burden of citizenship.

The Massacre of Infants calls us to the vocation of caring for all children, everywhere, bringing the light and love of Christmas to the spirits, minds, bodies, and relationships.

What would Jesus do if he were here right now?

I can’t think of a better question to ask at this holiday season. So much could be written on this subject, but here are a few random thoughts just to get the ball rolling … maybe folks will follow-up on their own blogs or on my Facebook page.  This might also be a good topic of conversation around an upcoming holiday meal.

1. Jesus might be born into today’s world as a refugee, or in an occupied nation, or in a slum, or in a war zone. Christian faith would have to take more seriously God’s solidarity with the poor and oppressed and war-torn.

2. Jesus might not be born Jewish or Christian. He might be born Congolese or Sudanese or Palestinian or Native American. He might not be raised in a two-parent traditional family. As a result, Christian faith would have to take more seriously God’s love for all people everywhere.

3. Jesus might find ways to “turn over the tables” of the military-industrial complex, of Wall Street, of religious broadcasting, or of the dirty energy industry. Christians would have to take more seriously God’s call to care for peace and the planet.

4. Jesus might frequently withdraw – not into the desert, but into a national park or wildlife protection area. Christians would have to take more seriously God’s concern for endangered species and threatened ecosystems.

5. Jesus might deliver the sermon on the mount at a landfill, in the Canadian tar sands, or near an oil refinery. Christians would have to confront the costs – human and ecological – of consumerism, arguably the West’s leading religion.

6. Jesus might go, as a twelve year old boy, to a leading university to talk with scientists and atheists. The Christian faith would need to remember that God is involved in all areas of human life – not simply religion.

7. Jesus might be tortured, imprisoned, tried for heresy, and executed by all of the world’s leading religions … reminding us that the kingdom of God is not a religion, but a life.

What do others think? Why might an imaginative exercise like this be important?