Aslan’s Roar

December 23, 2018
Isaiah 2:2–5; Philippians 2:5-11
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry

Our first reading on this last Sunday in Advent is from the prophet Isaiah. It speaks of a time “in the days to come” when all nations will come to worship God and walk in God’s paths. This passage also contains the familiar language describing peace, when weapons of war are transformed into tools of agriculture, and people study war no more. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Isaiah 2:2–5.

In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.
Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.

God’s word for God’s people.
Thanks be to God.

Our second reading this morning comes from the letter to the Philippians, one of the most beautiful Christ hymns ever written, and a description of the person and work of Jesus Christ. Let’s listen for the good news of the love of Jesus Christ in Philippians 2:5-11

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name that is above every name
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

The word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.


We’ve spent these four weeks journeying to Narnia and back, guided by the lamppost that marks the entrance to that magical land. Today, we contemplate the final chapters of the story, when all comes to completion in Narnia.

Aslan, the great lion, is the son of the Emperor over the Sea, and the savior of Narnia. According to the laws of the deep magic of Narnia, Edmund’s treachery in betraying his brother and sisters is punishable by death. Aslan willingly, lovingly, sadly gives himself in Edmund’s place. But there is a deeper magic, one from beyond the dawn of time, magic that the White Witch does not and cannot understand., The two girls watch throughout the night. Then, Lewis writes:

“The one big star had almost disappeared.
The country all looked dark grey,
but beyond, at the very end of the world, the sea showed pale.
The sky began to turn red…..then at last,
as they stood for a moment looking out to the sea and Cair Paravel,
the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met
and very slowly up came the edge of the sun.”[1]

At that moment, Aslan is raised from the dead and the stone table cracks.
Lewis was surely thinking of Easter, and the gospel account that begins:
“early in the morning on the first day of the week…”

Author C. S. Lewis never intended his Narnia chronicles to be allegory;
he was simply imagining what it would be like if God were incarnate
in a land where animals could talk.

But certainly Lewis’ Christian beliefs were foundational
to how he formulated these final events in the plot of the book.
At the book’s conclusion, the forces of Aslan, led by Peter,
win the great battle, and defeat the White Witch.

They set free all of her captives, and peace comes to Narnia
as Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy take the thrones at Cair Paravel.
It’s a timeless story, a story that reflects the story of the gospels,
the story of God’s redemption of all humanity.

But we are still in Advent.
It is not Christmas, not yet!
despite what every sound and sight and song and store would say.

The Jesuit priest Alfred Delp said
“Advent is the time of promise; it is not yet the time of fulfillment.
We are still in the midst of everything
and in the logical inexorability and relentlessness of destiny.…
Space is still filled with the noise of destruction and annihilation,
the shouts of self-assurance and arrogance,
the weeping of despair and helplessness.
But round about the horizon the eternal realities
stand silent in their age-old longing.
There shines on them already the first mild light
of the radiant fulfillment to come.
From afar sound the first notes as of pipes and voices,
not yet discernable as a song or melody.
It is all far off still, and only just announced and foretold.
But it is happening, today.”[2]

The writings of Father Alfred Delp take on new meaning when we know that he wrote them during Advent from a German prison, in 1944. He was imprisoned and eventually executed for taking part in a group that resisted the Nazis.[3] He knew, from his prison cell, the mystery of the already and not yet, how God snatches life from the jaws of death.

The mystery of Advent, of Christmas, of Easter,
is that all that is far off and foretold
is here and happening.

Domination, violence and cruelty seem to be our daily reality,
and the bloody clothes of all the tramping warriors are being burned.
War is everywhere, 

and swords are being beaten into plowshares.
The world is in turmoil and darkness, 

and the light shines in the darkness.
Death is a daily reality, but so is eternal life.
Christ is yet to be born, and Christ has died and risen again.
Christ is humbled and in that obedient, self-giving humbling
he is highly exalted with the name that is above every name.
Christ is at work in the world.

At the name of Jesus, everyone takes a knee.
At the name of Jesus, everyone confesses that he is Lord.
In him we know light, hope, joy and life.
Christmas is coming, and it is not just a child’s tale, not just a festival,
but a holy day, in which we hear the lion’s roar,
and the light dawns,
and life comes again to us.
Thanks be to God.

Amen.






[1] Lewis, C S The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, p.176


[2] Alfred Delp, Advent of the Heart: Seasonal Sermons and Prison Writings, 1941-1944


[3] https://insightscoop.typepad.com/2004/2008/11/advent-is-a-time-for-being-deeply-shaken.html