I have recently been making my way through the television series The UnXplained, which explores every imaginable aspect of human existence that remains, well . . . unexplained. Episode topics probe everything from belief in the afterlife, searches for the lost ark of the covenant, to supposedly natural phenomena that have no natural explanation. In an episode focusing on the end of civilization, I first learned of the simulation theory.
Clearly, I have not seen the movie The Matrix, and I am no scientist, so I was shocked to learn that there are legitimate scientists and others who dabble in science, such as Elon Musk, who subscribe to the simulation theory. This theory, as I understand it, is that the world in which we live is nothing more than a grand computer simulation controlled by higher beings with technological capabilities far more advanced than we could fathom. You and I in this church are not really here, despite our emotions, feelings, and desire to be here. We are simply pawns in a very sophisticated computer simulation. We are, in fact, puppets on a digital string.
As some have pointed out, it’s ironic that in a quest to rationally explain the nature of human existence, scientists have landed on a theory that sounds remarkably like the creation story, but with a skeptical, technological twist. The haunting question of simulation theory is this: what happens when whoever is running the computer simulation gets tired of the game and pulls the plug? Simulation theory posits an existence that is tenuous and perfunctory, where we are no more than virtual pawns.
But those who compare God’s creative and providential powers to a computer simulator seem to have little knowledge of a loving God who is in dynamic relationship with his children and who in some mysterious way allows us true freedom while also caring for us. If simulation theory is true, then do we really have any volition at all? Does it matter what we do if everything in this world is simply a game? Aren’t we merely robots in such a view? And is life more than a state of constant state of anxiety about when the plug will be pulled on the game?
We might be troubled by a similar kind of anxiety when hearing St. Matthew’s account of the Second Coming. Many Christians, and especially Episcopalians, have tended to shy away from the historic Advent preaching of old, which focused on the four last things of death, judgment, heaven, and hell. These topics make us uncomfortable. But why? Are we uncomfortable about the idea of our own deaths? Are we worried about where our souls will go after we die? Do we wonder what is on the other side of earthly life? Or are we simply terrified that the plug could be pulled on our lives at any moment and all the work we had planned or hoped to do would evaporate into thin air?
It’s very difficult to read Matthew’s text without feeling a slight rise in blood pressure. The end of time is so mysterious that only God the Father knows when it will be, at least according to Mathew. The last day will come upon us like the disastrous flood that swept away most of the world in Noah’s day. It will enter our lives as suddenly as a thief in the night. Is Matthew trying to scare us into belief or frighten us into action?
For centuries, Christians have been obsessed with understanding the end times. Predicted dates of the apocalypse have come and gone. And many have so longed to be raptured from this earth to be with God that they have lived as if this life were no more than a computer simulation. Perhaps the fact that many Christians still live as if they are in a computer simulation game is an even greater irony than skeptics devising a theory of existence that sounds quasi-religious in nature.
If the end of all things is to be eagerly welcomed as an escape from reality or dreaded with ceaseless anxiety over avoiding hell, then this world is to be treated as if it were nothing more than an illusion. The goal in such a view is to be with God after this life, and so the sooner the plug is pulled, the better off we’ll be because we will have escaped this vale of tears.
Consider, for a moment, what such an illusory world looks like. The Gospel is supposedly preached, the Bible is read, and church is attended, but everything else is simply ephemeral. The never-ending mass shootings are only an illusion. Climate change is a figment of our imaginations. Social inequities are beyond our control. And the indigent blend in with the dirt on the city street.
The only real concern, it would seem, is that moment when the plug will be pulled on this virtual simulation. The only difference between the way some Christians live and simulation theory is that on Judgment Day, when the plug is finally pulled on this video game, those of us who have worshipped correctly and believed all the right things will have the privilege of being swept away into another blissful game beyond this one, a game which never ends.
Is it any wonder, then, that the apocalyptic scenario that Matthew presents tends to provoke anxiety rather than hope? And can this really be the view of the evangelist who is primarily concerned with Jesus as Emmanuel, God with us? Is it possible to be a virtual disciple of one who uttered his first cries in a lowly stable and whose physical hands healed the poor and sick? Can we really be virtual disciples of one who made the blind to see by mixing his saliva with dirt on the ground and rubbing it on damaged eyes? Can we really be only virtual disciples of one who was less concerned about the end of time than about those who were abandoned by the roadside of life? Can we be virtual followers of one who told us that to visit the prisoner and the sick, to feed the hungry, and to give water to the thirsty was also to look into his own face?
The real challenge of Christian discipleship is to hold eschatological urgency with hopeful living. We need both. Eschatological urgency alone will enslave us to unhealthy fear. Hopeful living alone will turn our eyes from the face of Jesus in those we most wish to ignore and from the reality we want to forget.
Some scholars tell us it’s possible that in Matthew’s account of the end times, the man in the field and the woman grinding meal who are taken away are actually the ones who have gotten it wrong. It is the man and woman left on this earth who have chosen to live as Christ’s disciples. They are the ones for whom this world is more than just a video game. They are living with their feet on the ground. They are the ones who see the advent of Christ’s kingdom as if it were more than a future illusion. They are the ones who can hope for heaven and yet enjoy being with God in this life.
Can you join me for a minute in rethinking this world as more than just a computer simulation? Can we reimagine what Matthew’s conception of judgment looks like when it’s not simply raw fear but a dynamic gift? In such a world, every moment is pregnant with the real possibility that among us and through us, Christ will still work his miracles. Each of us is invited to live beyond mere hedonism and towards the enjoyment of the other. Our feet are not simply trained to walk to the altar but also from the altar out into the streets again, to the poor, needy, lost, and forsaken. Our hearts are not only lifted up to heaven in Eucharistic fellowship but back down to earth once again, bringing heaven down to it.
If we can only envision this world as something to escape and shun, then when Christ comes again in his majesty and glory, it will seem as if our world has had the plug pulled on it. Everything will seem to be an illusion because we will have failed to see what we could and should have done. We will have overlooked all those who needed to see Christ in us.
St. Matthew is right. Our world needs to wake up. We continue to live as if we are in an illusion, as if the problems that have solutions are beyond our control or, worse, not even there. We delude ourselves if we think that our own hands and feet, our own small community, and our own gifts of time and money will make no difference. We are living in a virtual world if we are numb to the expectant possibility in each moment of our lives that God will do something among us and through us. We are living in a virtual world if we think that things can’t really be better than they currently are in this earthly life.
The end is near because its radiancy is touching our skin and our hearts. Of that final day and hour of judgment, no one knows the specifics. Let it not trouble our hearts. Let us not worry about its time. Let us give heed to today as we yet await a glorious future. Listen: Christ is knocking on our door, crying for us to wake up. We are no longer living in a dream. Everything around us is real. And the kingdom is nigh at hand.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The First Sunday of Advent
November 27, 2022