By Selwyn Duke

This is the piece that will never be published. Haven’t you
heard?

The world’s going to end on December 21.

End-of-the-world hysteria is rather interesting. The
Argentine government has restricted access to a mountain over a mass “spiritual
suicide” threat
associated with it, and the Chinese regime has responded to a doomsday cult by
staying true to form: it arrested people.
And all this based upon an interpretation of the Mayan calendar that predicts a
Winter Solstice apocalypse.

Of course, every age has its end-times expectations. Martin
of Tours predicted that the end would come by 400 A.D.; many believed, not
surprisingly, it would happen on Jan. 1, 1000; perhaps a tad more scientific,
mathematician Michael Stifel predicted that at 8:00 am on Oct. 19, 1533
Judgment Day would begin; and, more recently, radio personality Harold Camping
prophesied a 2011 demise, which turned out to be as accurate as a 2012 Dick
Morris election prediction.

For my part, I don’t make end-of-the-world prognostications
(just end-of-the-republic
ones), nor do I trouble over them. One reason is that I’m secure in the
knowledge that “no one knows the day or the hour.” Yet there is another factor,
one that seems to elude people who become frantic awaiting that supposed last
day, pore over the Good Book trying to divine its date, or believe that such
knowledge is somehow significant in their lives. It is this:

Whenever the end times are, our own personal end time will
come soon enough.

That is, we’re all going to die. And from a personal
standpoint, does it matter if you breathe your last during an Earth-rending and
ending cataclysmic event or a coronary?

After all, if you’re an atheist and believe we all end up
worm food, the only difference is that there’ll be no worms around to enjoy
you. And if you’re a Christian, you ought to know that you’ll stand before God’s
judgment either way — and there are no absolution points for a really cool and
unique demise.

It’s ironic, too, because while it’s possible (anything is)
that you’ll die in a Friday apocalyptic event, it’s far more likely that on
that day you’ll succumb to a heart attack, aneurysm, or stroke, or be killed in
a car accident. Or it could happen the next day, next week, or next month.
Should you worry about it? Better than focusing on when you’ll die is
straightening how you live. Live right — the dying takes care of itself.   

But this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be mindful of death in a
general sense. In fact, it’s clear that what drives much of this end-times
hysteria is a failure to have come to terms with death. Some people have, quite
understandably, shunted thoughts of their final repose into their minds
recesses; then, upon hearing that a certain day may be their last, it’s all the
more difficult to handle because it has seldom been contemplated. Again,
though, it’s always the case that a certain day could be your last. And, again,
unless you end up under ObamaCare care, it’s doubtful your demise will be all
that interesting.

As for me, I’ve gone through periods in which I’d quite
naturally contemplate death every day, and even during other times I’m generally
mindful of it. It sounds morbid, I know, but I don’t mean that I’d ponder it in
a brooding or suicidal way; it’s in a relaxing and sobering way.

In fact, I’ve always considered such thoughts, which come to
me quite spontaneously, a gift. Literally. Why? Well, it’s as with a child who
behaved as if he’d never grow up and didn’t study, learn and prepare for
adulthood versus one who was mindful of his adult “destination” and
consequently understood his job at the moment: to prepare to stand on his own two
feet. Being mindful of our final destination places our lives in perspective.
It makes it far less likely that we’ll get gratuitously wrapped up in the
things of this world than when we live as if this world is all there is.

Yet it makes a big difference whether or not people believe
in an afterlife, as this determines their conception of their destination. When
they have such belief, they have something to prepare for, something to live
for beyond a tomorrow that may never come; when they don’t, they won’t believe
they’ll have an “adulthood” for which to prepare. And then, as with the secular
New Yorkers whose response
to the predicted apocalypse is to seek one last sexual romp, it’s “Eat, drink,
and be merry for tomorrow we die.” Of course, a lot of what the people in
question are saying is tongue-in-cheek; they’re largely just seizing upon the
Mayan moment as another excuse to party. In reality, it’s difficult for
atheists to be merry when they’re mindful of death, assuming they can be merry
at all. This is why they’re so unlikely to ponder death.

As for those taking the Friday prediction more seriously, it
turns out that many of them are contacting NASA, which reports inundation with
phone calls. The questions asked are things such as, writes
the Los Angeles Times, “Will a rogue
planet crash into Earth? Is the sun going to explode? Will there be three days
of darkness?” My, my, did they forget about wandering black holes and gamma-ray
bursts?

I don’t know about you, but the mischievous part of me might
like to be a NASA representative and say to one of these folks, “Well, sir,
since the end is nigh, I guess I can tell you. We’ve been in contact with the
aliens and they’re going to take us off the Earth. They’re all booked up with
the elite few, though. But I can give you the number of a good church.”

Of course, I wouldn’t actually do it. Not only might the
person do something rash, but I wouldn’t want such a mean thing to be my last
act before meeting my maker on the 21^st.

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                                  2012 Selwyn Duke — All Rights Reserved