“You who are fond of spectacles, expect the greatest of all spectacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe.”-- Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus (c. 160– c. 240), early Christian theologian
“I’m glad the rapture didn’t happen as I truly don’t want to be born again. I don’t want to pay for a new nose job.” — Joan Rivers
“Puwede ba wag muna mag end of the world? Kakabayad ko lang ng kuryente. Pag dumating na lang yung disconnection notice.”— Ramon Bautista
Like “Careless Whisper” by way of Dr. Kho, it was the national punchline. It was funny at first, but got to be very annoying eventually (Unless it was Ramon Bautista or Joan Rivers talking about it). For the past few weeks, the world— from the New York Times to the Huffington Post to Love Radio to Twitter— was cracking with end-of-the-world jokes. Everyone posted online Youtube links, from the R.E.M classic to “House of Jealous Lovers” by that band called The Rapture to the Anita Baker song.
DJs and TV hosts snickered about postponing those weekend beach trips pending global obliteration. Evangelists had a field day ranting and citing scripture about how no one knows when the end will come for God will come like an akyat-bahay in the middle of the night. Bloggers obviously not fans of Godard and Haruki Murakami referenced 2012, a movie blissfully unwatched by yours truly. I myself was trying to study a possible connection between the Apocalypse and Justin Bieber’s recent visit. For a brief moment, however, the residents of Isabela almost shat their pants when an earthquake of significant magnitude struck—on that estimated scheduled day of global destruction.
It made me wonder: why are we constantly fascinated by the end of the world? Take note: Fascination for the end of the world is not the same as fascination with death. The idea of “death” is something too personal, too close to home, and therefore too scary. The end of the world (henceforth known as EOTW), while truly horrifying, has a sort of fantastic resonance to it. Why die alone? Why expire in a lonely hospital bed? Wouldn’t dying be more exciting if it happened with a cast of thousands? It’s spectacular, it’s cinematic, and we all think of ourselves as John Cusack or Will Smith, with Cecile B. De Mille or Roland Emmerich (But why?) directing. And you really can’t blame the more paranoid and gullible among us, especially with the current string of natural disasters: tumult in the Middle East, the recherché of earthquakes, the tsunami and the nuclear meltdown in Japan, Manny Pacquiao’s recording of “Sometimes When We Touch,” and the recent disclosure of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s “extra-curricular” activity. Of course, the so-called December 21, 2012 ending of the Mayan calendar is another subject altogether—but it’s gotten to be a bit tiring. T.S. Eliot said, "This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper." Between the director of godawful disaster movies and a Nobel Laureate for Literature, I’d rather believe the latter.
The thing is, people have been predicting the obliteration of the world since time immemorial. But we’re still here. We’re always here. Do human beings just like scaring themselves to death? But then again, for these so-called visionaries, these Chosen Ones, the operative element is not fear but joy. Several lines in the Bible, particularly from Matthew, are germane to the subject, but I’m too lazy to type them out (but I do know that many death metal bands like to rummage through Revelations for inspiration for their lyrics). It has happened in these shores, too. Nick Joaquin, in the essay “Apocalypse and the Revolution,” points out how messianic cults mushroomed shortly before the advent of the Revolution of the 1800s. He wrote that apocalyptic moods break out during two periods: the end of a century and the beginning of a millennium. These were times of folk mysticism and cults. “Apocalyptic—a madness of hope born of despair—was the true, the original, climate of Christianity…” the National Artist for Literature wrote. “… The belief spreads that a great upheaval impends: a global catastrophe, the end of the world. Panic seizes the masses, but it’s a fear wild with hope: after the upheaval will come revelation and the reign of justice; there will be a new heaven, a new earth.” Unfortunately, they’ll never get to see that. They were slaughtered by the Spaniards and, later, the Americans.
The historian Lorenzo DiTomamaso, who has written numerous books on global apocalypiticism, offers an explanation: “The apocalyptic worldview springs from a desire to reconcile two conflicting beliefs: the first is that there is something dreadfully wrong with the world of human existence today. On the other hand, there is a higher good or some purpose for existence, a hope for a better future.”
But I was just wondering: what was it with Harold Camping, the evangelist behind this whole EOTW prediction? Whether for amusement or legitimate news, why did the media make patol the damn thing? Which brings us to the question: are we that bored? The world—especially the United States—is not in short supply of wacko cults. But why this one in particular? Slow news week? Such as when some news programs actually asked for Dionisia Pacquiao’s opinion on the RH Bill? It’s the negatives that stick to our consciousness. Give someone a compliment, say, “You have nice hair, a finely chiseled face, an aquiline nose, but…..” Chances are, the non-flattering remark that follows the ellipses will be the one you’ll most remember. The same thing with a visit to the fortune-teller: you will meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger, you’ll win the lottery, but there’s a possibility that you’ll also meet an accident. I bet you’ll obsess about the last item. I’ll show you a white wall, and if there’s a speck of dirt, that’s what you’ll remember. It’s the same part of our brain that makes us want to roll down the car window and buy a tabloid with a bloody headline. Of course: what could make a bigger tabloid headline than EOTW?
