Traveling in Place

Ready for Advent

Our nation just observed an annual day of Thanksgiving. And this Sunday, Christians begin observing the season of Advent. On Sunday, many of us will light the candle of hope.

Thanks...hope.

I’m not in a rush to get to Christmas, but I am grateful that Advent is beginning now – while we are still in the mind of gratitude. Surely most of us have been feeling increasingly troubled by what’s happening in the world. Are we at the brink of the next global war? The U.S., France, Russia, Iraq, Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Turkey are all directly involved to some extent in the battle against ISIS, but even if all these interests are successful in defeating their common enemy, there are deep fissures that could widen in the aftermath and create opposing alliances over the future of the Middle East. It’s not hard to imagine NATO countries in a protracted conflict against a coalition of Russia, Syria, and Iran.

Meanwhile, political candidates and news organizations here at home are peddling fear, the former by declaring our lack of security and making tough promises they can’t possibly keep, the latter by obsessively replaying and repeating the same troubling stories of terror and violence, as if news is breaking even when it isn’t.

Politicians and aggressive news reporters may act like adversaries, but in reality they conspire to proclaim the message that the world is coming apart at the seams and we should all be very afraid. This message is the opposite of the gospel, which begins with the words, “Do not be afraid.” It’s only human to be afraid when we are threatened. In fact, fear is an important aspect of our survival – if we never had fear of anything, we wouldn’t last long as a species. But there’s a difference between taking appropriate cautions to avoid danger and living in a constant state of fear, which always leads to suspicion and paranoia, and in turn creates enmity and hatred.

A Communion Story

On a cloudy November day like this one eleven years ago, I made a pastoral call on one of our church’s matriarchs, whom I will call Catherine. (Fortunately, I recorded the details of the visit in my journal.) At the time, she was 83. Bound to a wheelchair and almost blind, she lived in a nursing home. In all the years I had known her, she was in some level of residential care – an apartment in a senior citizens’ complex, then in an assisted living facility, and now in a small, sterile room where she received constant nursing care. Through it all, she was well-spoken, kind, patient, and even philosophical about her slowly deteriorating condition. She always expressed confidence that no matter her physical limitations, she had a purpose. “There’s always something I can do,” she would often say as she leaned forward to communicate the intensity of her reflection, “even if it is only to offer an encouraging word to someone else.”

And so it was heartbreaking for me to discover on this one visit that the process of aging had forced Catherine to her limits. I greeted her, expecting the warm, inviting smile to which I had grown accustomed, but instead was met with anger and paranoia. “My right eye is in pain,” she said sharply, “and no one will help me!” She protested that none of the staff would listen to her, that they were treating her badly, and she was afraid of them.

I went to the nurse’s station to ask if Catherine could take something for her pain. The nurse to whom I spoke replied rather dismissively, “This morning it was her shoulder. I’ve already given her Tylenol.”

I went back to Catherine’s room and explained that it was too soon for her to have more medicine. But, of course, that was no comfort. Every few minutes, Catherine would grimace. “Oh, it hurts! I wish you would do something to help me! I NEED YOU TO SPEAK FOR ME AND GET THEM TO HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME!” She had drawn me into her state of helplessness.

“I don’t know what I can do, Catherine.” I asked her to describe the pain and how often it flared up, and assured her that she could have another dose of Tylenol in a few hours.

“Tylenol is not sufficient!” she insisted. “It’s not what I need. CAN’T YOU DO SOMETHING TO HELP ME?”