Edges

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord for ever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

I was trying to figure out a parallel, some kind of example to better explain this passage, so I asked Chris if he had any ideas. I very inarticulately asked him, “what’s an example of like… when something’s new… or there’s an unknown, so you get really anxious and you jump to worst case scenario?” Chris smirked and said, “…you mean like every thought that goes through your head?” Touché.

I’ve mentioned before that I do struggle with anxiety, which I’m medicated for now, and it really likes the edge off, but even so, I know that feeling of dreaded uncertainty well, and that’s why I could really feel the anxious energy in this passage.

Remember, this is the earliest book of the new testament, so everything is super, super new; and they’re kind of figuring some of this stuff out as they go along. The thing the Thessalonians are anxious about in this case, or what the presumption is, because, as we’ve discussed, we only have Paul’s response to them, we don’t have their original letter— is what happens when Jesus does, indeed, come back? Now, they know, (or believe) that Jesus is going to comeback any day now—they thought it would be in their lifetimes, Paul included. So there’s a real sense of urgency here. And the idea was that Jesus would come back and take everyone on earth with him… but, the Thessalonians worried, what would happen to their loved ones who already died? Are they just destined to be in the ground forever? Are they going to miss out on this incredible event? Will they be lost forever, never reunited, even in this coming paradise?

So this part of the letter is Paul giving his new friends reassurance. It’s him telling them not to worry, when the time comes, everyone will be lifted to heaven, the living and the dead—he’s putting their minds at ease.

It’s interesting that this passage is all about reassurance because this passage is also the basis for one of the more controversial and sensationalist theological ideas of modern history—that of the rapture. It seems to me that this theory has decreased quite a bit in popularity since the early-mid aughts, but it’s that theory that when Jesus comes back, the good guys are gonna be drawn up to heaven to paradise, and the bad ones will be “left behind,” as they say, to suffer the apocalypse on earth. We can see where this comes from, right? “…the dead in Christ will rise first. Those who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air.”

I can understand folks latching onto this idea—looking for this certainty that they’ll be rewarded for their faith, that when Jesus finally makes his triumphant return, they’ll be spared the horrors of the end of the world. It’s kind of its own sort of reassurance, I guess—that believing in Jesus was worth it… but that’s really not the point of this passage. It’s reassurance, yes, but it’s a very specific reassurance, and it’s not just about being rewarded with heaven. And in fact, it’s not about this horrible idea of the “good” being separated from the “bad.” It’s actually kind of the exact opposite… they were worried about separation. They wanted to make sure they would remain together with their loved ones, with their community. That’s where that anxiety was coming from. This is all new territory for them, it was new territory for everyone… including Paul. See, when Paul says, “…we declare to you by the word of the Lord…”, it certainly sounds as if he’s implying that somewhere in the gospels, Jesus makes this statement, that the dead will rise and be reunited with their loved ones when Jesus returns. But this just isn’t the case. There’s no evidence anywhere of this being fact. The generous read of this is that Paul had a vision right then and there that this is how it would go down. But Paul certainly wasn’t infallible. Maybe he made this up, maybe he was desperate to put these new Jesus followers’ minds at ease. And for that, I don’t blame him if that’s the case. There’s so much fear around death, and what comes next.

In my hospice work, I always knew people were close to the end when they started seeing their loved ones who had passed away—a brother they were close with who had died decades earlier; parents, grandparents, old friends. I think, more than paradise, more than gold-paved roads, what people want reassurance about is that they won’t be forever separated from those they love. It’s this need to know how final death is, or isn’t. I think that’s one of the appealing things about Christianity— O death where is thy sting, right?

Also in my hospice work, there was one patient I had, Helen—she was in her 90s, sharp as a tack, but completely bed-bound for years. She was a sweet woman, a devout Presbyterian… and I remember she was so, so, consumed by the book of Revelation, and by the apocalypse. It was always so strange to me, because she didn’t seem like the type of person to really be into that kind of theology. In fact, at Bible Study we were talking about the fact that us mainline Protestants get pretty uncomfortable talking about the end-times, talking about the second coming. It’s so fantastical and leads to strange ideas, like the rapture, I think we all have a tendency to avoid it. But after months and months of meeting with Helen, I realized—she was obsessed with the apocalypse because she, herself, was going through her own. She was so utterly aware of everything that was happening with her body, everything she could no longer do, and she was looking to this idea that her own suffering would be worth it. That her own, personal, bodily apocalypse would lead to the peace, the comfort, and the freedom, control, and independence that she so dearly missed. And when I realized that, I began asking her what her end looked like—and it mostly involved being reunited with her husband. It made me understand the concept of apocalypse more, it made me more sympathetic to those who adhere to sometimes terrifying theological ideas.

In a recent episode of On Being with Krista Tippet, she interviews theologian, writer, and stage IV cancer survivor Kate Bowler. At one point in the interview, they talk about the meaning apocalypse—they note that it means “revealing,” a veil being lifted. Bowler says, “…you see the bright clarity of a proximate ending, and…some people thrive in that scenario, and then other people…” not so much.

Now that we’re in this post-covid world (though of course we’re not, as we’re feeling the absence of Becky today) I’ve noticed people are really, finally starting to think back on and process these last three years. And Tippet and Bowler talk about that a bit in the episode, and how we all went through this collective trauma where we really were faced with mortality, and then… nothing changed. The system didn’t change. Healthcare didn’t change. But we were changed. We were all changed from these past three years whether we want to believe it or not. And now we’re still craving some kind of control, we’re still craving some kind of normalcy, whatever that means these days.

During Bowler’s cancer treatments, she says that she learned from a doctor friend, what hope is. She says it “…isn’t…skipping to the end, ‘Just tell me everything’s going to be okay,’…But it’s the feeling where someone keeps pace with exactly where you’re at and helps you find the edges of what you can hope for.”

Hope is a listening ear, it’s someone standing by your side, it’s someone who really gets you, someone who can make you feel safe. And so it’s no wonder that in all this talk of apocalypse and paradise, the Thessalonians’ first thoughts weren’t “great, sign us up!” It was, but wait—what about my sister? My spouse? My dad? My mom? My best friend? Where do they factor into this? Is it even paradise if I’m not surrounded by the people I love?

And so, this really is about togetherness, isn’t it? It really is about the reassurance that we won’t be separated from our loved ones, as we won’t be separated from God. And it’s more than just, as Bowler says, that ‘everything is gonna be okay.’ Because what is okay if we don’t have the support of a community around us? What is okay if we’re alone?

This passage ends with, “…encourage one another with these words.” We can’t just be told it’s gonna be okay and leave it at that. We can’t just accept we’re gonna get into heaven and disregard everyone else. And that doesn’t mean we have to convince them that they’re going to get into heaven too, because it’s not about that… it’s about reassuring and encouraging people that they’re not alone. It’s about standing and working alongside people so that we can find real hope together, so that we can know and trust that we are cared for, and so we can reassure others that they are care for us well.

There is an epidemic of loneliness that’s been growing in this country for years, but the pandemic, of course, made it so much worse—and not just because of the isolation we had to put ourselves in when the virus was rampant, but I think because nothing changed. It all felt a little hopeless. The statistic that always gets me is that thanks to pandemic benefits, the child poverty rate in this country dropped to a record low or about 5%. Once our government decided that those benefits were no longer necessary, and the child poverty rate has jumped to over 12%. Add the barrage of stories about dying children in the middle east, and the utter apathy and malice from those in power, and this world just gets lonelier and lonelier.

There is just so much fear and anxiety and isolation because it can really feel like we’re left out to dry. It really does feel like so many of those in power who claim to represent us don’t care about us. The reason I have remained a Christian my whole life is because I know that Jesus, whether he comes a second time or not, walks alongside us in our humanity. He knows every sorrow, every heartache, every joy, every experience we have, and so we are never alone—but we have emulate that to the best of our abilities We have to walk alongside those who are struggling those who are anxious, those who are lonely. That’s how people find hope. Not through platitudes, or surface-level reassurances about the future, but by actually experiencing community like this one—one that supports, encourages, loves.

There was clearly an anxious energy in the Thessalonians’ letter to Paul, and so Paul takes that an assures them that nothing can separate them from Jesus, or their loved ones, including death. But I think the most important thing he says in this passage isn’t about the afterlife, isn’t about the second coming—it’s his plea for them to encourage one another. It’s his plea for them to support each other during these tenuous times.

We may not believe an apocalypse is imminent like Paul and his followers did, but it seems like there are mini-apocalypses happening all the time—whether they involve isolation, poverty, war—so many people are facing some kind of end, some kind of terrifying reveal of what may come next. So let’s pay attention to one another, let’s walk alongside each other, in community, together—because that is the only way we will begin to find those edges of hope. Amen.