Anniversaries seem always to command our attention. We remember the anniversaries of our birth and the birth of those we love. We remember the anniversary of our wedding day, maybe even the anniversary of our engagement. We remember the anniversary of the founding of things, such as, when we established our home or our church or our business. Some of these anniversaries are deemed more significant than others, especially those that end in a zero or a five. At each of those the clock seems to make a more important tick than at other times.
Certainly the anniversary of the birth of Jesus is one such remembrance, even those we don’t know exactly when he was born. Added to that, prior to the 4th or 5th century, Christians seemed not to make much, if anything, of the day set aside to remember his birth. After that, it took on more importance, so much so that the season called Advent began to come into existence across Christendom. If we’re paying attention, we’ll have many reminders to think about and remember his birthday in the coming days.
But, as I write this, there is another anniversary that is commanding my attention. Today is 7 December, a day declared to be “a date that will live in infamy.” As indeed it has. Additionally, today is one of those special years, the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the event that resulted in the U.S. entering what would come to be known as World War II.
As I thought there would be, there was an article on the front page of my morning paper about that day. It was a relatively small article and it focused primarly on the wish of men who were aboard the Utah and the Arizona who survived. Recently two had died as old men and a dying wish was that they be interred in the ruins of their sunken ships along with their shipmates who didn’t live 70 years more. I also expected a lot of television programming about it, but outside a special tonight, there didn’t seem to be much. I’m a little surprised.
I was barely a year old when the attack happened. Within a year or two, my two older brothers were in the Army, one fighting in Europe. That one, Roy, was a model airplane builder and before he left, he finished a large model of an older fighter aircraft which he left behind for me. On the side of it was a decal that said, “Remember Pearl Harbor.” It was several years before I really understood the significance of that command--a command which became the rallying cry for a nation.
Over the intervening years, the meaning of that national motto changed for me. Early on, like many others I hated the Japanese and felt as if the fire bombings and the atomic bombs were only “what they had coming.” As time passed and I understood more the dynamics of the time internationally and nationally, my loathing disappeared to be replaced by great sadness at our ability as humans to do so much harm to each other.
There was a national sense at the end of the war that WWII would be what WWI hoped to be--the War To End All Wars. Learning how to harm so many so quickly would surely turn us all from war. It did not, as you know only too well. What will it take? Jesus’ birth seems to have been seen by him as a mandate to proclaim a message that was primarily about something called the Kingdom of Heaven, or to put it differently and more aptly, the Reign of God. That reign is to be here on earth. And we are to be subjects of that King.
Speaking for myself, I have to admit I’m not the best subject God could have and absolutely am not doing all I can to bring in the Kingdom. Advent is the time for reflection and preparation for that Kingdom. Perhaps this special year will be an unusually good time for me to reassess what it means to be God’s subject, in particular what it requires of me and each of us as we live in this complex and increasingly dangerous world we’ve developed. I plan to use the time doing that. You might want to consider doing it as well.
Peace, Jerry
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