We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; (Romans 8:22)
Advent means that something is arriving; here it is, almost on the doorstep, coming around the bend. Some of the Scriptures for Advent talk about that arrival as being wonderful, beautiful beyond hope or imagination – light, delight, wonder and joy.
Other Scriptures are much darker, such as the apocalyptic Scriptures about the end time that are full of anguish and terror. They remind us of how often new beauty and new life enter the world accompanied by suffering and danger.
When I was pregnant with my daughter as a high-risk, older mother, I understood Advent on a whole new level. As the time grew near, I was almost unbearably eager and anxious. I learned that it was important for the wellbeing of my daughter to wait well, not to wait passively but to do all that I could to collaborate with my body and to prepare.
I learned that panic was counter-productive. While it was reasonable to be afraid and to let that fear spur preparation, panic, on the other hand, would pull my energy away from where it needed to be. Panic would make me less able to respond effectively to the danger of childbirth and possibly even increase it. Studies of Russian cosmonauts in the 1960s showed that panic actually narrows peripheral vision; the panicked person misses critical data about threats and opportunities.
This season, many people in our country are panicked. Our terror of terrorists fills our computer and TV screens and sometimes even the screens of our imagination. Is this panic counter-productive? Is it causing us to miss critical data?
There are always reasons to fear in this life. As a good friend says, we are afraid of dying without having lived. We are afraid of the loss that inevitably comes into our lives in a fragile and fallen world. However, fear is not the only appropriate response to the crises that surround us.
In the midst of the events in Paris and San Bernadino, Calif., some responded with great generosity, going out of their way to care for those who were wounded or traumatized. When panic sets in, that generosity all too easily stops at the border between “us” and “them.” The other is seen only as a threat. We can no longer see the dead toddler who belonged to a Syrian refugee family or the unaccompanied youth fleeing Central America as our child; we can only see them as people beyond the circle of our concern. Yet the biblical message, particularly at this time of year, is that the “other” can sometimes be an angel, a messenger of God sent to bring a blessing.
As we struggle with the best response to the terrorist threats facing us, may we remember to not act out of panic but rather number our days so that we may have a heart of wisdom. The appropriate balance between fear and generosity, the recognition of potential threats and blessings, is a question of wisdom. We believe as Christians that the root of wisdom is the awed awareness of the power of God, which sustains us in this life and leads us in Christ to eternal life. May this faith shape our response.
