Mankind’s fascination with the end of days – at once morbid and redemptive, fatalistic and liberational – stretches back as far as 
our history. The sages of a given land illuminated prophecy of an end that was informed by and reflected in the cultural, social, pedagogical, and religious predispositions of the peoples who received it. For many ancient cultures, who were inspired by the great cycles of the heavens above and the natural world about, what we call the apocalypse represented the closing of one cycle followed by the inevitable foundation of another. Some myths (such as those of the pre-Columbian civilizations of Central America) were borne on the symbolic yet violent sacrifice of one age in order to give life to the next. Others, such those prevalent in the still-flourishing Vedic world, manifest their pervading faith in the transmigration of souls by reincarnating the whole of their world: the old age, or ‘yuga’, withers and dies and a new one is created. In our Judeo-Christian tradition, and our secular Western world, the notion of the end-times is far more linear, mechanistic, individual, and final – of a wholly different resonance than the beliefs of most other societies. The one factor that unites these disparate mythologies is their uniform prediction that we today are standing on the brink of this long-prophesized moment, whatever it entails.
The story of the Christian Armageddon begins, most likely, on the island of Patmos in the Aegean, where nearly 100 years after the birth of Christ the recluse and sage called John received prophecy heralding the eventual destruction of the Earth and the salvation of the chosen. It was incorporated into the Gospels as the very last book: the close to the Book of Life with a grand and final death. The imagery of Revelation is unique in the Bible in its immediacy, and its horror. I for one can vividly imagine the terror of the Day of Reckoning, endowed as we are by endless reference to it so much of the great work of art and culture. The apocalypse, which is the Greek for revelation, is, despite its pretension towards finality, a timeless concept. It is to the world what Christ’s redemption is to humanity: salvation from the sins and imperfections of mortality and material; the blinding light at the end of the pitch-black tunnel. Some fear it, some await it, some ignore it, some defy it, but there is no one immersed in society that is wholly unaffected by the idea of the end. With 2012 fast approaching, and the world in flux to a degree rarely seen in history, the study of Armageddon is not just urgent – for it is always urgent to those who accept it. It is an essential mode towards comprehending the situation of modern man.
Hi Sam,
This is a well-written and thoughtful response, especially in light of your trouble getting the book on time. As you read the assignment for class on Tuesday, I would like you to speculate on your claim that the “one factor that unites these disparate mythologies is their uniform prediction that we today are standing on the brink of this long-prophesized moment, whatever it entails.” In future posts, it is important to orient us toward the assigned reading (I know you couldn’t yet) and, if you disagree with it, to explain why. Some of the first part of your post is in concert with Kirsch’s arguments that these major belief systems about beginnings and endings correspond to the particular cultural and historical moments. You do say that yourself, but some of your descriptions and the claim I quote above tend to universalize instead of historicize. For the Mayans and 2012, for example, several thousand years isn’t exactly a “brink.” For other cyclical traditions, Kirsch points out that they maintain time as a key element, with renewals of it every so often. But with the apocalypse of John, time ends. Earth is annihilated. History is over. The New Jerusalem is a timeless place, rather than a new cycle. So these are important differences because of the value system that goes along with them—which will be a good topic of discussion in class.