I grew up in a church that didn’t observe advent. Because it began as a radical counter-church movement in the 1800’s, the Salvation Army didn’t observe any of the high church rituals - including advent.
The non-denominational church I “grew up” in as an adult didn’t celebrate advent either. We decorated the lobby and put on an extravagant Christmas program every Sunday before Christmas, but advent was not part of our church culture for the best part of 20 years.
So it’s only been the last couple of years that I’ve begun to explore outside the lines - and I’ve discovered riches there.
For instance - the Jesse Tree.
Though I’ve seen photos of the stained glass versions, I never knew about the home version of the Jesse Tree. This old custom seems to be great way to tell and re-tell the ancient stories of our faith. Each day a new symbol is hung and an old story is told. Some people create a felt version, while others use tree branches. There are pages and pages of ideas for creative Jesse Trees and handmade ornaments and stories and devotional books online.
We had our own creative traditions, our own ways of telling stories when my children were younger. But perhaps it is time to establish some new traditions. My first grandchild - a little girl - will be born in just two months now. I think there will have to be a Jesse Tree at Nana’s treehouse. Old ways to tell ancient stories to a new generation.
During these December days, I’ll keep exploring advent and share some of what I’m thinking about and reading. Like this vibrant passage that tries to capture the feeling of advent - from “Whistling in the Dark” by Frederick Buechner.
“The house lights go off and the footlights come on. Even the chattiest stop chattering as they wait in darkness for the curtain to rise. In the orchestra pit, the violin bows are poised. The conductor has raised his baton. In the silence of a midwinter dusk, there is far off in the deeps of it somewhere a sound so faint that for all you can tell it may be only the sound of the silence itself. You hold your breath to listen. You walk up the steps to the front door. The empty windows at either side of it tell you nothing, or almost nothing. For a second you catch a whiff of some fragrance that reminds you of a place you’ve never been and a time you have no words for. You are aware of the beating of your heart…The extraordinary thing that is about to happen is matched only by the extraordinary moment just before it happens. Advent is the name of that moment.”
Photo Credits:
“Stained Glass Nativity” by George Bosela.
“Heart on the Snow” by Kriss Szkurlatowski.
Used by generous permission
Entries (RSS)