Apart from those two books of the Bible, we find smatterings of apocalyptic messages throughout the prophets and the gospels. And they always show up in our Advent readings, as we see today in Jesus's words to his disciples in Luke's gospel. Why do messages about the end of the world come to us each year before Christmas?

Well, let's take a closer look at today's gospel reading. "There will be signs in the sun, the moon and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves." The first thing to notice is this end of the world is not about individuals -- whatever is happening here is a cosmic event. All of creation gets pulled into the eschatological drama -- that is, the end-focussed event.

OK, so the world is apparently going to hell in a hand basket and what happens next? "Then they will see the Human One coming in a cloud with power and great glory." So the drama moves from the realm of the cosmic into the realm of the human through "the Human One" or the "Son of Man" in your pew Bible translation. Or perhaps more accurately, we might say that the human and cosmic realms become intertwined in this image of a human being in a cloud.

The text goes on, "Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." The sky is falling and what should our response be? Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near. When things seem to be falling apart even among the stars and the ocean, the appropriate response is not fear and trembling, not cowering or fainting, but eagerness, confidence, and hope.

I imagine Jesus noticed the looks of puzzlement on the faces of his listeners about then, because he decided to throw in a parable by way of explanation. He turned around, noticed that he was standing by a fig tree and so he tells them: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place you know that the reign of God is near."

Well, that certainly clear things up, doesn't it? OK, so we look at the trees and we can tell what season it is. Even my five year old son can do this. He knows that colorful leaves mean that fall, with its cooler weather, is here and that winter's colder weather is on the way. We are able to discern these rather obvious patterns of nature without too much trouble.

As easily as we discern these patterns of nature, Jesus suggests, we should be able to discern the cosmic designs of the work of God. If it looks like the place is falling apart, that means God is working for redemption. Hmmm ... doesn't seem quite as obvious, does it?

Enter Advent. The season when we prepare ourselves for the celebration of Jesus's birth. If we do not take note of the fig leaves -- that is, the signs of the times -- then we may well ignore the fact that the world is falling apart. And in a state of denial or minimization or ignorance, our experience of the Christmas event will probably look something like it often does in our times: a sentimental journey in story and song, a nice vacation from work, an excuse for excess.

What would Christmas look like if the sky were falling? If not only our lives, but the cosmos itself were in such tremendous disrepair that it would take something of equally immense proportions to bring relief and renewal? This, our advent readings suggest, is the appropriate way to approach Christmas. It has nothing to do with the sweetness of the little baby. It has to do with the intense need of ourselves and our world for an act of redemption that can break through the cynicism or apathy or despair in which we wrap ourselves to fend off the possibility that the world is really a mess.

Here's how Jesus concludes his little message about the fig tree: "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life ... Be alert at all times."

Wake up! Don't drown out the difficult reality with work or substance abuse or sexual titillation. Don't shut out the big picture with anxiety over the small stuff. Don't give in to all those impulses that move us away from hope.

Wake up. Live consciously. Stay watchful and alert. Keep your lamps burning. Wait, wait. These are what our advent hymns sing to us again and again. Advent calls us into a conscious appreciation of the realities of the world in which we live. The realities of trouble, yes. And also the reality of redemption.

When we talk about the coming of salvation, we are not talking only about my little sin or your little sin, or my broken heart or your battered soul. The redemption we need is bigger than that. It is cosmic in nature. Big enough to calm the seas, strong enough to shift the stars in their courses. A coming together of heaven and earth, nature and humanity, supernatural and natural, so that all can be healed together. An intertwining of the divine and the earthly.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

And I don't know about you, but I feel fine.