"Always winter and never Christmas"
Narnia, Romans 13:11-14
Advent 1A, December 2, 2007
A Sermon by Fr. James Haney V
Today as we begin the new season of Advent, we begin a a four week look at C.S. Lewis's classic, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. This book is well known for its themes of passion and resurrection. But it also has heavy Advent themes as well. Thus I'd invite you as part of your preparations for Christmas to join me in visiting or revisiting this wonderful book. And if you wish to read along as we go, or watch the movie as we go, there's a schedule of the chapters we'll be covering each week in the newsletter and in the bulletin.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe centers on the experiences of four British children who have been evacuated from London to escape the blitz during World War II. They end up in the country home of an old professor.
In the first part of the book, the youngest of the siblings, Lucy, discovers that an old wardrobe in an empty room is a gateway to another place, the land of Narnia. She makes one visit, and then another. And the second time the next youngest sibling, Edmund, follows her in at a distance. This morning I want to focus on Lucy's experience during the first trip, and Edmund's the second.
When Lucy enters the wardrobe the first time, she finds that as she goes further and further back, the fur coats give way to tree branches. She finds herself in a dark snowy landscape. Amidst the trees is, of all things, a metal lamppost. And if that's not strange enough, she encounters a talking faun named Mr. Tumnus, who is half human, half goat. He invites her to his cave for tea (it is a British book after all).
He tells her lots of stories about the creatures of Narnia. He then lulls her into a state of lethargy by playing his flute for hours on end. But then Mr. Tumnus breaks down crying. He confesses that he's been trying to lull Lucy to sleep so that he could hand her over to the evil White Witch.
The White Witch has ruled Narnia for a century. She has made herself queen, and has cast a spell upon the land. When Lucy asks about her, Mr. Tumnus describes her this way: "Why, it is she who has got all Narnia under her thumb. It's she who makes it always winter. Always winter and never Christmas; think of that!" And then Mr. Tumnus goes on to say that the thing that frightens him the most is that she has the power to turn creatures into stone. Later on, we will see that her castle is full of statues of all sorts, all of whom were once Narnians who opposed her.
Now, let's step back for a moment, and consider the meaning behind C.S. Lewis's words. Living creatures turned into stone statues. And a land where it is always winter and never Christmas.
Here in Wichita, winters are usually mild, much like they were where I grew up in northwest Texas. Sure, you get some cold spells. Yes, you'll get several snows a year. A couple of them may even be pretty heavy. But then the sun comes out, the temperature goes up, and the snow disappears until the next blue-norther comes along.
But when I moved to Chicago for seminary, I had a very different experience of wintertime. And it was a mixed experience, because Christmas in Chicago was wonderful, and winter in Chicago was brutal.
At Christmas time, Renee and I would bundle up and ride the El downtown. The sun went down at 4:30. But that didn't matter. Everywhere there were twinkling lights. The big stores had elaborate animated Christmas displays in their windows. There were ice skaters on the outdoor rink that would be set up. There were street vendors selling steaming cups of cocoa. There were lots of folks, there was lots of joyous energy in the air. Even though the temperature was cold, you felt warm. It was right out of the song, "Silver bells." Christmastime in the city of Chicago was great.
But then there was the rest of the winter. I remember one year where it stayed below 0° F for over two weeks in a row. I learned what -30° feels like. I had always assumed that anything below zero would probably feel equally cold, but I was wrong. I learned that there's a huge difference between 0° and -30°. I remember another month where the sun only came out 3 times. I remember another night where Renee and I were walking back the four blocks from the El station to our apartment, and the wind was bitterly cold. We said, jokingly, but maybe only half-jokingly, that it might be just as well to lay down in a snow bank and go to sleep forever. Winter in Chicago was tough.
Always winter and never Christmas. That's a very bleak thing indeed.
There's an Advent warning here from C.S. Lewis. There are dangers in having wintry souls. A long winter's nap could be something restful and wonderful. Or it could be a description of a soul that has grown wintry, sleepy and lethargic.
There's a danger of becoming spiritually sluggish, or cold, or even frozen. You can grow cold to God. You can grow cold to the people around you. You can become as spiritually dead as a lifeless stone statue. You can become a lifeless hardened person who won't respond to either to God's love or to human need.
In seminary I remember listening to Bishop Wiedrich of Chicago telling the story of when he was a priest in Wisconsin. One Sunday morning he went to open the church doors and found a homeless man, frozen to death on the church steps. And he would ask, "How can we let that happen? On the steps of God's own house, how could we let that happen? How could we be so spiritually frozen inside the church that we let a man freeze to death outside on our own doorstep?"
How do we grow so cold to the need all around us? And how do we grow so cold to a loving God, a God who want nothing more than relationship with us, a God who asks nothing more than that we carry his love to others?
C.S. Lewis is giving us an Advent warning. Don't let the wintry spiritual forces in the world turn your hearts cold. There's nothing bleaker than winter without Christmas. There's nothing bleaker than a wintry life without the love of Christ. That's the situation in Narnia. A frozen landscape, frozen statues, and the inhabitants frozen in fear.
Which brings us to Edmund. Lucy makes a second trip to Narnia to visit Mr. Tumnus. And her brother Edmund follows her at a distance. But then he loses her in the forest. And it is there that Edmund meets up with the White Witch herself.
The White Witch gains Edmund's loyalty by bribing him with Turkish Delight. Now, I'm not a fan of Turkish Delight. Its a candy made of sugar and boiled cornstarch and flavored with rosewater. I tried a piece once, and it was this bland gelatinous cube of "blecch." But we're not talking about my sweet tooth. We're talking about Edmund's. And he loves the stuff. He polishes off the entire pile, but is not satisfied.
Listen to C.S. Lewis's words about Turkish Delight. And as he talks about Edmund and Turkish Delight, think about those things that are enticing and spiritually dangerous for you: substances or behaviors or addictions, or things that threaten to enslave you.
He writes, "At last the Turkish Delight was all finished and Edmund was looking very hard at the empty box and wishing that she would ask him whether he would like some more. Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves. But she did not offer him any more."
It turns out that she is using Turkish Delight as the bribe that will entice Edmund to do her bidding. And her bidding is for him to return to her bringing his brother and sisters. Edmund doesn't know the real reason why. He doesn't know that the Witch wishes to kill all four of them because it is prophesied that they will supplant her. But Edmund's overwhelming desire for more Turkish Delight is the tool the White Witch will use against him, even though it will mean his destruction.
That's a reminder to all of us from C.S. Lewis. There are destructive spiritual forces in the world. At times they will attack us where we're weakest. We have to be careful not to be snared by our particular brand of Turkish Delight.
But we also have to be careful this time of year to pursue things that are life-giving. There are many distractions. We can lose our focus this time of year. We can get so lost in presents and parties and preparations that we forget what we're celebrating, what we're preparing for. That's one more way we can get tripped up by Turkish Delight.
Always winter and never Christmas. Frozen stone statues. A little boy addicted to evil and enchanted Turkish Delight. That's a rather depressing start. But we're only a quarter of the way in. It may be winter in Narnia, but the promise of Christmas is coming. In the next section we'll hear of the great Christ figure: Aslan the Lion. It is prophesied that he will do something to change the frozen landscape and the frozen statues. But that is for another day.
In the meantime, let us heed the Advent warnings of C.S. Lewis. And let us listen to the parallel call of St. Paul. In our Epistle lesson from Romans, Paul gives us two admonitions. Both of these phrases have found their way into our Advent hymns and prayers. Both of these phrases line up with the themes from Narnia.
First, Paul says, "It is now the moment for you to wake from sleep." Jesus is coming. And you have a choice. You can remain cold and frozen and lethargic. Or you can wake up. You can open your heart to Jesus. You can open your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.
Second, Paul says, "Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light." You can focus on empty pleasures. You can be snared by your own particular form of Turkish Delight. Or you can put on the armor of light. You can pursue what is life giving, and lay aside what is life denying. You can clothe yourself in the light of Jesus Christ. You can pray to be clothed in his very own character, so that when others see you, they catch a glimpse of Jesus in you.
So wake up. Put on the armor of light.
Christmas is coming. Jesus is coming. Aslan is on the move.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Rev. James P. Haney V
Good Shepherd, Wichita
December 2, 2007
