Rapture

There are still people who think that punk and disco shouldn't mix, but there are a lot fewer of them now, thanks in part to the Rapture. In the spring of 2002, the Brooklyn-based band's anthem "House of Jealous Lovers" took the underground dance and rock scenes by storm, wooing ravers and indie kids alike with its deep bass groove, searing guitar work, and irresistible beat. That song left hipsters from San Francisco to London desperate for more Rapture, but all the band had to offer was a handful of singles and EPs that mostly predated "House.

THE SECOND coming of Jesus Christ - if and when it happens - raises all types of questions for believers who expect to "meet the Lord in the air" during the Rapture, as the Bible states. Such as: Who's going to feed the dog? Bart Centre has you covered. For only $135. Centre, a retired retail executive for a major national chain, has found a way to profit from what he sees as the misguided beliefs of God-fearing Bible thumpers. "I'm not looking to make a statement here," said Centre, 62, an atheist author and founder of Eternal Earth-Bound Pets.

At a union hall in Delaware County where, just one week ago, 150 Judgment Day believers gathered to celebrate their last Sunday on earth, there were signs yesterday that the believers may have indeed been raptured. The building was locked and the parking lot desolate - except for a single crumpled blue hoodie and a toy frog that lay on its back, all bug-eyed and soulless. The Dumpster on the lot was filled with the remnants of a decent last meal - pizza boxes and a case of Rolling Rock - and broken bottles of Jagermeister and beer littered the lot's perimeter.

As you probably know by now, this promises to be a hell of a day. Perhaps you've read the newspaper reports or seen the billboards along I-95; or clicked on the CDC's posting, "Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocalypse"; or tuned into Camden's 106.9 FM, one of Family Radio's 150 stations that have been broadcasting warnings for months that the End of Days will occur ... today. Based on revised, painstaking readings of the Bible, and using algorithms he says are derived from God's own word, Harold Camping, 89, an evangelist from Oakland, Calif., has determined that Armageddon will begin at 6 p.m. Philadelphia time.

Mr. Sugiyama, a Japanese salaryman, is 42 and has attained all of his social and material goals. So why does he feel a spiritual void? Despite the accountant's secure job and marriage, his pretty daughter and lovely suburban home, his heart is heavier than his leaden feet. In this rapturous comedy from Masayuki Suo, Mr. Sugiyama finds transcendence on the ballroom floor. Initially Sugiyama enrolls at the dance academy because he has a crush on a female instructor. But this is to pursue dance as a means to a false goal rather than to put one's life into true spiritual balance.

The first thing to know about Friday's packed party at Pure with Making Time - a Philly DJ collective dedicated to "indiedancecocainesexjamspartytrainanthemsnitemusic" - was that it was a three-ring circus. If you weren't in the gay club's mezzanine wriggling to Digitalism spin techno tracks like "Jupiter Room," you were in the basement digging Rock T-s' dudefest. When you weren't drinking Sparks while Justice spun blazers like "Waters of Nazareth," you romped to resident DJs Dave P and Pak. Mostly, you dug the live sound of the Rapture and Hot Chip.

To those of us who view religion primarily as a spectator sport, The Rapture was very disappointing. You don't know about The Rapture? Where have you been? The papers have been full of it. Here was the deal: according to some biblical scholars, many of whom wear funny-shaped hats, the other week was supposed to be marked by The Rapture, a divine rescue of the Saved that would signal a seven-year worldwide tribulation destined to culminate in the Second Coming and the Battle of Armageddon.

Last week, a tall, slender woman named Ina stood on a porch in Northeast Philadelphia, and talked about how she was going to heaven today as the bride of Jesus Christ. "I am going to be raptured," Ina said. "I hope to see you in heaven. " She was standing in the doorway of a rented house that city officials say is an illegal church, operating out of a residentially zoned neighborhood in the 6500 block of Bradford Terrace. "We don't want them here," a neighbor said. "The house is open 24 hours a day. They chant all the time.

There was no Rapture on Bradford Terrace this weekend. That's the quiet Northeast Philadelphia street where a religous sect, the Taberah World Mission, had upset neighbors by operating what city officials said was an illegal church in a residential neighborhood. The Taberah sect, which originated in Korea, preaches that Jesus will return this month and levitate the faithful, both living and dead, to heaven. Last week, Taberah members had said the Rapture would occur Saturday.

Here's what the Internet is like: For a column I write on our use of language, I needed to know more about the belief of some evangelical Christians in the "sacred rapture. " The idea, roughly, is that at the moment of Armageddon, when the good and bad people face each other at the end of the world, God creates an opening through which all the good people are delivered from the mess and brought into heaven. The rest are in the soup. I wanted to understand the idea behind this doctrine and so went to my trusty Web search engine, Yahoo!

Not all of Hugo Wolf's Spanisches Liederbuch (Spanish Songbook) portrays desperation, plus its aftermath and echoes. But most of the best songs do, exploding the emotional violence latent in the Paul Heyse and Emanuel Geibel poems so insistently that it's no wonder singers and audiences are intimidated by the density of the 44-song cycle. So few were likely to feel shortchanged when Angelika Kirchschlager and Ian Bostridge sang only 34 of the songs Tuesday at the Kimmel Center's Perelman Theater.

Once again, the Earth has survived. Unless typing at this terminal is Heaven - and it's clearly far from Hell - no rapture or disaster happened overnight, contrary to movie-inspiring misreadings of Mayan calendars. Add that to the list of dead-wrong prophecies about the end of the world. Here are 10 previous apocalyptic flops: 1. Radio preacher's dud and redux. California evangelist Harold Camping said he could "absolutely guarantee," based on his Bible-based math, that on May 21, 2011, a grave-opening earthquake would let 200 million blessed souls get "caught up" or "raptured" into Heaven, while remaining billions would feel "horror and chaos" until Oct. 21, "when God will completely destroy this earth.

Jay Rubenstein is a professor of history at the University of Tennessee and the author of Armies of Heaven: The First Crusade and the Quest for Apocalypse On Oct. 21, the world did not end, despite predictions by Christian radio personality Harold Camping. We have by now laughed him off, but perhaps we owe Camping one more serious hearing. I for one can't help but ask: What if the apocalypse had happened? Or if not "the" apocalypse, then at least something fairly apocalyptic? That is what occurred 900 years ago. Thousands of people expected the apocalypse, and they got it, though not the one they were expecting.

At a union hall in Delaware County where, just one week ago, 150 Judgment Day believers gathered to celebrate their last Sunday on earth, there were signs yesterday that the believers may have indeed been raptured. The building was locked and the parking lot desolate - except for a single crumpled blue hoodie and a toy frog that lay on its back, all bug-eyed and soulless. The Dumpster on the lot was filled with the remnants of a decent last meal - pizza boxes and a case of Rolling Rock - and broken bottles of Jagermeister and beer littered the lot's perimeter.

So here we are: May 21, the day that a surprising number of people around the world think will mark the beginning of the end - The Rapture. If this strikes you as news, here's a quick recap: Harold Camping, an 89-year-old Christian evangelist from Oakland, recently declared that decades of studying the Bible had led him to believe that today will, in fact, be Judgment Day, the day that Jesus Christ returns. (The Rapture is supposed to begin locally at 6 p.m.) Camping launched a massive ad campaign to bring his message to the masses.

As you probably know by now, this promises to be a hell of a day. Perhaps you've read the newspaper reports or seen the billboards along I-95; or clicked on the CDC's posting, "Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocalypse"; or tuned into Camden's 106.9 FM, one of Family Radio's 150 stations that have been broadcasting warnings for months that the End of Days will occur ... today. Based on revised, painstaking readings of the Bible, and using algorithms he says are derived from God's own word, Harold Camping, 89, an evangelist from Oakland, Calif., has determined that Armageddon will begin at 6 p.m. Philadelphia time.

THE SECOND coming of Jesus Christ - if and when it happens - raises all types of questions for believers who expect to "meet the Lord in the air" during the Rapture, as the Bible states. Such as: Who's going to feed the dog? Bart Centre has you covered. For only $135. Centre, a retired retail executive for a major national chain, has found a way to profit from what he sees as the misguided beliefs of God-fearing Bible thumpers. "I'm not looking to make a statement here," said Centre, 62, an atheist author and founder of Eternal Earth-Bound Pets.

What a send-off our intrepid castaways got in "The End. " During Sunday night's Hurley-sized Lost finale, the salt-kissed crew was treated to a concert by Charlie's rock band, Drive Shaft. Then they were off on an all-expenses-paid trip to heaven. Or whatever the next stage of their spiritual journey is. Sure, we got the epic showdown between good (Jack) and evil (the fake Locke) at the island's golden grotto. But that took a back seat to the final rapture as the characters in the church, bathed in radiant light, looked up in mute wonder at what awaited them.

William Murphy, 74, an educator and a singer whom Eugene Ormandy called "Philadelphia's greatest bass-baritone," died of cancer Dec. 24 at Willow Valley Manor in Lancaster. In the early 1960s, Mr. Murphy seemed destined for international opera stardom. He studied voice in New York with famed instructor Beverly Johnson and received rave reviews for his Papageno in the Washington National Opera's production of The Magic Flute. He worked with Igor Stravinsky and recorded two works with the composer, Renard and The Nightingale.

Let's bypass for a moment the lively People's Light production of the quirky comedy (sort of) called End Days, which opened last weekend. Instead, we'll give the playwright the spotlight. Deborah Zoe Laufer is her name, and she conjures a suburban family of characters we have no reason to accept. Then she forces us to fully buy into them. She does this incrementally, with realistic, funny dialogue and a focused sense of character building. I'm surprised at how easy End Days is to swallow, despite elements that could be as offensive as they are absurd.