End Days – no matter if they signify the end of Cosmos, of our solar system, with all the planets, just our tired Earth – are definitely our future. How distant this future is we cannot say, but there is no doubt as to inevitability and reality of the event.
If we look at the progression of Liturgical Year, we see November, the most typical of Fall months, showing us the way to the End of the World. First we have the All Saints’ Day and the All Souls which are focused on a smaller, very personal version of the End of the World – end of our lives. This, as we all know, is a very real event and inescapable, too.
Next we have yesterday’s Gospel reading and we hear about the End Days of the Temple in Jerusalem and Final Days of humanity in general. The Temple was the heart of Judaism, the only place where God was dwelling among his own. It was a pure place among filth of paganism, it was a place in which pious Jews took enormous pride and joy. And just as Jesus prophesized, this creation of wealth and beauty was destroyed so thoroughly that all that remains now is the foundation. A huge mosque was eventually built in the place where Temple of Jerusalem had stood.
Jesus knew that his prophecy having been fulfilled as to the Temple, we will listen to what He says about humanity’s END DAYS with greater willingness.
How not to fear the Dies Irae and the Justice of God that is coming? And it coming in earthquakes, strange phenomena, famine and plagues ( no one fancies dying of Ebola, for instance), and persecutions which take both the bloody and invisible form?
I see only one way to survive what is coming, be it my own death or the Great Purification of the End Days. There are many other ways to prepare, of course. Some of us are able to do great penance and also great works of mercy, others pray like angels and teach with great wisdom. I am in no way able to do anything of the sort.
For me and those like me – floundering, weak and not much use in the great works of the Holy Spirit – there is one hope – that of Mercy of Jesus, and only one way – that of contrition and gratitude.
Contrition brings to mind all sins past and present, and if practiced often, makes you smaller, somewhat child-like. Contrition teaches you to laugh at yourself and be less serious, too.
Contrition changes you into gentle grass, bending with the wind. Violent winds and earthquakes break up trees and destroy high buildings, they do not touch grass.
Gratitude lifts up ones’ spirit in all circumstances of life. We need to practice it at all times – being grateful for literally everything – a ray of sun on the wall above the bed, a piece of bread in hand, a cup of coffee, the fact that at this particular moment nothing aches me, and also for the pain at other times ( who knows what God is achieving through it in me?). Gratitude teaches humility in a sunny, cheerful way.
These two: contrition and gratitude – how can we be afraid of the coming of the Beloved?