How can we tackle the world’s crises as Christians? Today’s reflection explores the ways we can counteract violence and division by living radically loving, God-centered lives and embracing Christ’s teachings.

May 25, 2025: Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year C
Acts 15:1–2, 22–29
Psalm 67:2–3, 5–6, 8
Revelation 21:10–14, 22–23
John 14:23–29

Doing Apocalypse Better

A reflection by John Falcone

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a theological conversation with an activist and former Catholic. She was telling me about her struggles with her Mom, who had become radicalized during the Covid pandemic. Mom had always been church-going and devout, and was deeply troubled by her daughter’s drift from conservative Catholicism. During Covid, however, Mom had fallen into “conspiratuality.” Scholars describe this as a constellation of prayer groups, online content, and personal beliefs. Conspiratual faith is marked by black-and-white thinking, by distrust in institutions (“the Deep Church” as disgraced archbishop Viganó has described it), and by appeals to end-of-the-world argumentation. Mom had urged her, “Honey, you need to convert right away, before I die! Soon, there won’t be any more Purgatory; people will go straight to Heaven, or straight to Hell, and my prayers won’t be able to save you.” Mom had also confided that she was stocking up on bottled water, canned food, and other supplies, since her prayer group was receiving messages from the saints and the angels that society was about to collapse.

While Catholic conspiracism remains a fringe movement in North America, right-wing conspiracism has become part of the US mainstream. Right-wing spirituality is quite real to those who embrace it, and it is no joke to those (like my new friend and many others) who feel that it is pulling their loved ones away from their reach.

As our conversation continued, I did not argue that the world is not ending, nor that large institutions are unproblematic, nor that we should avoid speaking out about what’s right and wrong. Let’s be honest: our present ways of life are unsustainable. If we keep going this way, our economy, our democratic institutions, our mechanisms for restraining war and aggression, and our ecosystems are doomed to collapse. Instead, I suggested that we need to tackle these crises in the true spirit of Jesus. In the end, my friend and I both agreed. We need to learn how to do apocalypse better. This week’s readings offer three different perspectives on that theme.

In the first reading, Paul and Barnabas have been converting Gentiles to Jesus, without forcing them to embrace Torah observance, but traditionalist believers insist that the Jesus-community must also embrace the traditions of Moses. As Luke-Acts tells the story, the church in Jerusalem sends this message in response: “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit, and ours as well, not to lay on you any burden beyond that which is strictly necessary.” To use modern-day language, the letter then offers the following guidelines: (1) do not worship false gods (like money, power, or the [Roman] State); (2) observe common decency; and (3) do not use other people as if they were tools. No more dividing line between Jews and Gentiles! No ethnocentrism! All ways of life—ethnicities, races, genders, sexualities—can be equally holy! Through community prayer, fasting, discussion, and discernment, the Holy Spirit reveals a program for radical social change.

The second reading underlines this inclusiveness. Even now, John of Patmos reveals, God’s city is on its way down from Heaven. It will be a new society, permeated by God! Let me unpack a bit of John’s writing style and identity to underscore how radical his message really is. While the author of Luke-Acts writes in an elegant, well-educated Greek style, John writes with a discernible accent, heavy with Aramaic and Hebrew turns of phrase. John writes in this kind of broken Greek because he is an ethnic minority, an immigrant, a refugee. Today, we might describe John as a “Jewish Christian,” but in his time, he would be called a “Judean follower of Jesus.” In fact, for the first few centuries of the Christian era, there was no “religion” called “Judaism.” There was instead an ethnic group called “Judeans,” who possessed a distinct culture and ethnic spirituality. While many Judeans lived in Palestine, many others had immigrated across the Roman Empire and beyond. (For example, Paul was a Judean immigrant born and raised in Tarsus, modern-day southern Turkey). Large communities of Judean immigrants lived in ghettos within Alexandria, Rome, and other major cities. When the Judeans of Palestine revolted against Roman occupation in 66–70 C.E., riots erupted in ghettos across the Empire. After three years of insurrection, the Romans finally prevailed, and many Judeans in Palestine were enslaved or expelled. Likely among the victims of this ethnic cleansing was John, the refugee-prophet writer of Revelation.

Despite (or because of?) these many traumas, numerous outsiders were attracted to Judean culture and spirituality. So, for the first hundred years and more, the Jesus-community was not a new “religion,” in the eyes of Greeks, Romans, and others. It was a sect comprised of refugees, immigrants, and immigrant-lovers. This is the kind of new, perfect society that John sees coming down from God’s Heaven.

The Gospel reading further unpacks what it means to live this new, God-permeated way of life. It means being true to the words that Jesus left us. It means paying attention when the Spirit interprets those words for new cultures, or settings, or times. It means embracing the peace-practices of Jesus, which are quite different from the “peace”-practices that police forces, corporations, and governments often try to impose.

So the question is not: is the apocalypse upon us? As Jesus reminds us, the crisis is always upon us; the moment to act is always right now. In fact, things have never been more critical for human survival than they are at this moment in time. The question is: can we build peace in the spirit of Popes Francis and Leo, instead of ranking our compassion and rationing our love? Can we open our hearts to refugees and to immigrants? Instead of securing profits for the rich and political clout for the powerful, can we secure human rights, decent work, and a decent living for native-born, newcomer, and guest worker alike? Can we listen and learn about others and their cultures, instead of assuming that our way of life is the best? Can we prepare for the coming social disruptions by building relationships, instead of by hoarding supplies? Can we pray for each other, instead of giving up on people we disagree with, and even on the people we love? Can we learn how to do apocalypse better?

John P. Falcone is a practical theologian religious educator and a practitioner of Theatre of the Oppressed (PhD Boston College). He has been a Dignity member for more than 20 years with close links to Dignity NY where he met his husband Matias Wibowo in 2005. He is currently the Ford Visiting Professor of Practical Theology at San Francisco Theological Seminary.

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