The Very Reverend Mark B. Pendleton, Dean
December 5, 2004
Christ Church Cathedral
Advent: An Elevated Level of Readiness

There is a story about a young boy in Africa who presented with great pride a Christmas gift to his beloved teacher. When she unwrapped the package, the teacher found a perfect and beautiful seashell. Asked where the boy could have possibly gotten it, he told her that such shells come only from a special far away beach. The teacher was very touched, as you can imagine, knowing that the boy had walked many miles from their village to the shore. She said, "You shouldn't have gone so far for a gift." The boy looked at her and replied, "The long walk is part of the gift."

Each Advent, we find ourselves nearing the beginning of the telling of another story—this one changed the world. And as author Frederick Buechner puts it, what we celebrate is not just that God is, but that God comes. God comes here. I was reminded of the power of stories as I watched the Hartford Stage’s annual offering of the Dickens Christmas Carol this past week. Artists, writers, composers, and actors have long given us multiple expressions for how to get at the heart of this season. These plays, and stories and concerts become part of our preparation to receive yet again the message that God most wanted us to understand and experience. All we ever needed to know comes in the person of Jesus, who as a man lived as we lived, but was also the long-awaited Messiah, the Lord, the Son of God.

The lessons and prayers chosen are meant to help us arrive at a place where we can more fully celebrate the wonder and the mystery of Christ’s coming. Our theme today is preparation. We pray to a merciful God who has sent messengers and prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation. Enter John the Baptist, the central character of Advent. It was John of whom Isaiah spoke: “he would be the voice of one crying out in the wilderness. Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” Even before he was born, Luke's gospel tells us that this child growing inside of Elizabeth, Mary's cousin, jumped for joy at the mention of the Lord's name. John's message—for his contemporaries and for us today—is that people need to examine their lives, ask forgiveness for their sins, turn and receive new life in Christ. New life awaits all that are open to the grace that is freely given. Will we accept this gift? That is another matter.

As you and I experience Advent waiting, we do so at a time when our nation and our world look at the preparation in an entirely different way. One of the realities that we have lived with over the last three years is a prevailing sense that it is not a question of if our nation will be attacked again, but rather when. An outgoing Cabinet secretary this last week wondered aloud why the terrorists had not attacked our food supply because in his words it would be so easy. I don’t know about you, but I find that kind of candor from a government official less than reassuring. We are also living with the color-coated threat levels posted by the Department of Homeland Security. The levels range from low, guarded, elevated, high and severe. We are currently in the elevated yellow range. Americans have been told to be vigilant, take notice of their surroundings, and report any suspicious items or activities around them. We have been instructed to establish an emergency preparedness kit, as well as a communications plan for our family and ourselves. A kit of emergency supplies should be gathered to include at least a gallon of water per person per day, a flashlight, a battery-powered radio, extra batteries, a first aid kit, toilet articles, prescription medicines and other special things an individual or a family may need.

Making preparations for an imminent threat are nothing new. Some of my earliest memories in elementary school were the drills of hiding under our desks in the case of a nuclear attack—all in response to the Cuban Missile Crisis when the world came very close to full out nuclear war. Bomb shelters used to be a big thing in the 1950’s—everyone, it seemed, had to have one. Residents of London lived throughout much of World War II in bomb shelters with a constant background noise of warning sirens. But we get the sense that the preparation for biological, chemical, nuclear or radiation attack is going to be a part of our lives for the foreseeable future.

We are told by the government to keep on the lookout for anything and anyone suspicious—questioning if someone looks or seems out of place. But it is pretty easy to see in any stranger suspicion—especially when they do not look or act like us. Does everyone who seems nervous or agitated become a threat? These warnings, however vital to protect our national security, will push and test people of faith, for our Bible speaks of God consistently showing favor upon the foreigner and the stranger. In fact, being open to strangers is one way we may encounter an angel, how we learn from one another and become changed. If openness is forever replaced with suspicion, then we truly have lost something essential to our living faith. Expecting the worst and hoping for the best—as people of faith it is a hard pill to swallow.

Living in a constant state of readiness and preparation is one thing if we are waiting for the “other shoe to drop” or something terrible to happen; it is another when we are waiting for the coming of Jesus Christ. It is one thing to prepare for something threatening and frightening and another preparing for something that brings life and joy. How do we juggle the two seemingly contrary forms of waiting?

I remembered another wonderful story, told by C.S. Lewis in his classic “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” This first installment in the Chronicles of Narnia has Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy bounding their way through a magical wardrobe closet to discover a world called Narnia. It is a kingdom, in fact, ruled over by the wicked Queen of Narnia. This queen is really a witch, and a mean one at that, who has turned all the land into a cold and sad place. Narnia is a land which Lewis describes in the most unforgettable way: it was always winter and never Christmas. Imagine such a place! Throughout the story, as the children find themselves faced with real danger and under threat by the evil witch, there is only one force stronger than she is. Aslan. Aslan is the name of the lion in the story and for Lewis, the great Christian apologist; the lion is the Christ figure in the story. The deeper the children journey into Narnia, Aslan is described as being “on the move.” As he draws closer, what happens is that the witch’s magic weakens. And the children begin to hear the noise of the streams chattering, murmuring, bubbling and splashing. The snow, for the first time in such a long while, was beginning to melt. The green of the grass and the trees began to appear and the birds began to sing—all as Christ-like Aslan drew closer.

The children in Lewis’ imagination came face to face with evil. They felt real fear and concern for their lives. Yet their hopes brightened and their resolve deepened as news came that Aslan was on the move and drawing near. So it is with us. We too have seen the face of evil. People around the world live daily under the threat of violence and concern for their safety. Many live day to day, not knowing if there will be food to feed their children or themselves tomorrow. Even those who are comfortable economically, can and do experience loneliness and disappointment about how events have turned out in their lives. There are many living with health concerns, battling bravely through cancer and other illness.

Though we live in demanding and complex times, let us resist expecting the worst yet hoping for the best. To us all God is saying—I am on the move. In the coming of Christ, yes we should expect something big to happen. But this something is not bad or threatening, rather it is liberating, life changing, good and will fill us with wonder. The Lord is drawing near.