Friday, December 21, 2012

Swords and Ploughshares

So, as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been watching The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the first of the recent film versions of C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia. So often during Advent we read the passage from Isaiah (2:4) about how we should beat our swords into ploughshares—i.e. make peace, not war. Of course I agree with this. But as I heard this line, I could only think of the brilliant, shining sword that Father Christmas gives Peter in the movie. I thought to myself—no! don’t beat that one up into a ploughshare! It’s too pretty! …See what being a fan of fantasy literature does to you? This Bible passage works better for me if I substitute bombshells for swords…

But to the point. Swords. Not everywhere in the Bible are they portrayed negatively. Take this passage, a favorite in American Christian culture: “Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge intentions and thoughts of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12 Here I want to mention Narnia again. When Father Christmas gives Peter his sword, he warns him, “This is a tool, not a toy.” Toys are for fun, tools are for getting a job done. When seen as a sword, the job of the word of God is to defeat evil. Under no circumstances is its job to prove the biblical knowledge of the person wielding it, or to cut people down. The word of God is sharp, sharp enough even to separate the sin from the sinner. Cutting down the sinner instead of the sin would be like killing on the battlefield all those whom the White Witch had led astray, instead of killing the Witch herself and giving the others the opportunity to come over to Aslan’s side.

But how does one effectively wield such a sword, especially today? Absolutely not in blind anger, hacking away at everything and everyone we feel might threaten our precious truths. Tools cannot be used effectively under the influence of rage; rather, we must be calm and guided by reason, and motivated only by love of God and our fellow man. The sword of truth is a brilliant light in the darkness of evil, when in the hands of a Christian with the courage to use it and the love to use it correctly.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Gaudete Sunday: Can We Rejoice in Times of Tragedy?

The irony is unmistakable, even painful perhaps. After hearing of the school shooting in Connecticut, we now hear in Mass that we are to rejoice. Is this a case of the church calendar being in on a completely different planet from ours, blithely going its way without a care for what happens in “real life”? Or is it rather a reminder of what Christian joy really means?

Warning: this post may start to sound like it’s more about Easter than Advent. But could this be because the two are inseparably linked to each other? Without having been born, Jesus couldn’t have died and risen. Without having become human in the Incarnation, he couldn’t have paid the debt of our sins. Gaudete Sunday in Advent is paralleled by Laetare Sunday in Lent—the only two days of the year where the liturgical color is rose. (Gaudete and laetare both mean “Rejoice! Be joyful!” in Latin).

For me personally, today is also difficult. My uncle and godfather recently died, and today is the rosary for him, tomorrow the funeral. My aunt’s dedication to the rosary during this difficult time left me with a renewed appreciation of this beautiful prayer. I would like to interpret today’s message of rejoicing in terms of the glorious mysteries of the rosary, which are always prayed on Sunday.

The glorious mysteries can be seen as a meditation on our own mortality and immortality. They begin with a climax: the Resurrection. Christ conquered death. We hear this all the time. But this is the single most hope-giving truth of the Christian faith. Christ didn’t just passively wake back up again after having been dead for three days. He looked death in the face and said, “Give me your best shot.” He didn’t just defeat death. He accepted the worst that death could do to him, and proved it wasn’t really all that much. He’s been there, done that. And that’s just the beginning.

After his Resurrection, Christ spent some time on Earth with his disciples, and then he ascended into Heaven (the second glorious mystery). Here begins the long period of physical separation, in which we are still living today. Christ ascended so that he could send the Holy Spirit to be with us (the third mystery) in a much more intimate way than he could have done given the constraints of a physical body. These two mysteries show us that physical separation is not complete separation. Those we love still exist—we just can’t perceive them anymore with our five senses.

But even this is not the end of the story. We don’t have to “settle” for a “merely spiritual” union, true as this union may be. The fourth glorious mystery tells of the Assumption of Mary into Heaven, an event long held as true by church Tradition. After her death/dormission, Mary was immediately taken into Heaven, body and soul. Christ is the “first fruits of the dead (1 Cor. 15:20),” but Mary’s Assumption makes clear that the resurrection of the body is for all of us. Yes, we too will one day be in Heaven, soul and new, glorified body, with Jesus and Mary and all those who have gone before us.

The final glorious mystery, the Coronation of Mary as Queen of Heaven (hinted at in Revelation 12:1: “a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and on her head a crown of twelve stars”), prefigures the grand finale of salvation history. In the Gospel of John, one of Jesus’s last prayers before being arrested on the night of his Passion is this: “Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.” (John 17:24) When we get to Heaven, we, along with all our loved ones, will see Christ face to face and share in his glory, and his joy and ours will be complete.

This is why, as Christians, we can rejoice, even with horror in our guts and tears in our eyes. This darkness is not the end.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Always Winter and Never Christmas?

Lately I’ve taken to watching the Chronicles of Narnia when I’m too tired to concentrate on homework. In today’s gray world, these stories are like a breath of fresh air to me. Re-watching The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), I was struck by how well the beginning fits to the season of Advent. For as long as the White Witch has ruled Narnia, the land has been plunged in perpetual winter. Always winter and never Christmas. It’s almost impossible for me to imagine winter without the warming glow of candles and Christmas tree lights, carols and cookies and cider.

When Peter, Susan, Edmond and Lucy arrive in Narnia, things begin to turn around. There is even a rumor that “Aslan is on the move”—Aslan, the real king of Narnia. The hope of the Narnians that the four siblings will defeat the witch, along with the news of Aslan’s coming, begins to break the spell of winter. Father Christmas even appears, a concrete sign that Narnia once more has hope. The snow begins to melt, and the ice in the river begins to break (a sign of coming change even in the Soviet silent films that I’ve been watching for class).

As overjoyed as the furry Narnian beavers are to finally witness the arrival of the kings and queens who will conquer the witch and restore peace to Narnia, how much more joyful should we be during Advent, as we await the coming of our King? What is the particular darkness threatening each of us, the ice inside, paralyzing us, waiting to be warmed and illuminated by the Light of the World? The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was (is!) coming into the world! (John 1:5,9)