Lent Means Spring

Yes it does.  It’s from the same word that gives us the word “lengthen” as do the days at this time of year.

This year, we’re using the resource of the Johnston Terrace Wildlife Reserve and thinking about spring, the renewal of the natural world and personal renewal during Lent.  We will be reading extracts from The Secret Garden and visiting the wildlife garden, keeping our eyes out for signs of spring.  I’ve made a large poster which was blank other than the words “Lent Means Spring” but after our visit to the wildlife garden this morning, we’ve already added drawings of snowdrops, catkins, shoots of crocuses and daffodils, and tiny leaf buds on branches – around 1 milemetre long and not the kind of thing I would have noticed at all until Melly and Iris pointed them out to me.   With spring  rather late this year, the timing is perfect – it still feels like winter on this first Sunday of Lent, but if we open our eyes and look hard, the signs of spring are all around.

Hopefully the children will enjoy the story of sour Mary and spoilt Colin coming to life in the garden and the sense which the book gives of the sheer magic of spring.  Moments of hope and renewal, like the one which the book is about, are central to my own adult Christian faith and it seems worthwhile to try and share some of that sense with the children.

Hands-on

I’m a little embarrassed to note that this picture is not from either of the last two times we iced biscuits at St. C’s, but the time before that.  The children are becoming very accomplished at this popular activity.  We did it most recently last week, for Valentine’s Day, which is also Congenital Heart Disease Day, and we raised over £100 for Little Hearts Matter, which supports families where a child has a heart problem like Michael’s.  Several members of the congregation brought in plain love-heart biscuits, and they were plentifully iced and sprinkled by the children and bought and eaten by the congregation.

It’s been a hands-on few weeks, as the week that we were in church before that (we were at Greyfriar’s for a joint service in between) we did our annual candlemaking in honour of Candlemass.  Wax, water, wipe. and lots of elegant candles produced.  Unfortunately the adults in  charge of the service upstairs were too distracted to bless the candles, but after a little hustling the children brought them up individually when they went for communion or a blessing and they received a nice blessing then.

Christingle Pics from Gil

Proud creators of Christingles. No LED lights at St. C's. Long hair and candles, that's us!

Iris enthralled by the beauty of the Christingles in the dark church

Christmas round-up

Oh, I so wished I’d blogged a few days ago, when I was still feeling chirpy about our lovely Christingle and Christmas Day services, and not gloomy about Sunday, when I made the mistake of…getting out the desert bag.  (Don’t touch! Don’t touch!  Sit back!  Don’t touch!  etc.)

Christingle..There are a lot of lovely photos of this service out there, I need to upload a few.  This year we sang a brand-new-song written for the Children’s Society who produce the Christingle materials  -  it was a good song and we were very ably accompanied by a friend of Fidge and Alison’s who played on gamely even when we put all the lights out.  Other good bits:  We made our own Christingles, rather than doing the “Here’s one I made earlier” thing.  This was fun and relaxed, and no-one hurt themselves (the unwritten hope for every Christingle service).  People got a chance to chat and interact – one of the children made a Christingle for the pianist – and even thought there was quite a relaxed feeling, when we switched out the light for the hunt-the-lit Christingle, the mood changed completely.  It was great being in the totally dark church with just the candlelight.  The children holding the lit Christingles, even the 2-year olds, were just enthralled and so was I.

Christmas Day….We had a bit of a push on to make this more of a child-friendly, celebratory service this year and it felt good to me.

This year, after attending so many Fischy Music events over the years that I feel like a groupie, I finally got up the nerve to stand up in front of the congregation and teach some of the songs, with motions.  I did one song in Gaelic at our Gaelic family service (a translation of “May you find peace”) and have been doing “Welcome Everybody” with the children at St.C’s downstairs for a wee while now.  At the Christingle service, we did  “May you find peace” towards the end (rehearsing it before the service Iona style) and on Christmas Day we sang “Welcome Everybody” using the same approach.  Every time I sing Fischy I welcome the thoughtful, simple lyrics which seem to meet our needs so much better than the older hymns we often sing.  (“Here we are together, with all our hopes and fears”

As well as Fischy Music, the good bits were:  people doing a show and tell of the presents they’d opened that morning (something Gil remembered from her childhood Christmas Day services) and we also had a little scratch Nativity.

I have resisted doing a Nativity play for the four years that I’ve been involved in the children’s work at St. C’s.  Why?  A number of reasons.  One, I don’t want to pick children for parts, and leave others out.   I don’t want the children to have to spend all their church time in the weeks leading up to Christmas rehearsing and memorising lines.  It might not even be possible, as people aren’t able to attend every week.  Finally, many of our children are infant school aged and therefore do a Nativity at school every year.  But we discussed nativity plays at the Tuesday group where we were looking at what John Bell has to say about Christmas (he doesn’t like Nativity plays) and we thought about doing something simple that might meet some of the the Nativity needs.

On the day, we used a big box (a special trunk belonging to the Rector) filled with costumes – a blue shawl for Mary, a homespun Harris Tweed one for Joseph, tea towels, angel wings, about 14 stuffed sheep…)  Samuel and I had made a super manger made out of scrap wood and I had bought a special new baby boy doll which is now retired to the creche.  As Gil read the Gospel, with sympathetic pauses, children came up and put on a bit of a costume.  At the end of the Gospel we had a gorgeous tableau.

Las Posadas pictures

Mary and Joseph resting in our hall before setting out on their journey.

Making our way across the snowy garden

Absolutely no room here, says the grumpy innkeeper at the Johnstone Terrace Wildlife Reserve

Definitely no space. Get lost.

Well, that was disapointing.

Leaving

Creche and Underchurch Post

I forgot to mention our Advent innovation this year – Creche and Underchurch post.  There’s no more Scout post in Edinburgh after 25 years so we decided to move into the gap and deliver letters ourselves.  We’re only delivering within the church – as in, to people who are sitting right there during coffee time, but it has turned out to be a nice idea.  Fiona made a lovely letterbox, covered with cheery red wrapping paper, and the children and adult helpers have been emptying it, sorting, and delivering the last two weeks.

The thought behind it was that it would help the children and older adults get to know each other a bit better.  During coffee time the children tend to exist on a different plane from the adults, whizzing about at 60 miles an hour and playing outside in the garden even when it’s raining.  Being a “postie” means that the children do interact with the adults who aren’t involved in the children’s work, even if it’s only briefly.  We’re learning a few names, too.

It’s not tiny – it’s just far, far away.  Colm took the picture with his phone – while he was in a plane, I think.  It’s actually impossible to tell here, but the two people in more traditional dress are actually the Mary and Joseph puppets…. Until I get my camera working, this is our only pictorial evidence of last week’s trip.

This week ‘s adventure was considerably overshadowed by coming back to church to find that Bob had been taken ill and was waiting for an ambulance..Puts all our mucking about with puppets into perspective somewhat.  We are all very thankful now that he seems to be OK.

Before we went out, we had a treat in an Advent prayer in Scots which Susan brought along.  We all enjoyed using the phrase “the mirksome winter”  which seemed to suit the recent misty weather.  We then got bundled up into jackets, hats, scarves, gloves, and so on, and made the trek down to Castlecliff homeless hostel.  We were greated with great gusto by two members of staff who told us that there was “no room at the inn”

One of them was clearly into it and when Paul Michael asked her for a room, telling her that “We’re expecting a baby!”, she asked “What baby are you expecting?”  Several children answered “Jesus.”  “What’s Jesus going to do?” she asked.  Robin answered:  “He’s going to save the world!”  with only a very slight giggle.  Her young cousin Finlay then solemnly added, “I can save the world, because I have robot powers!”  This brought the theological discussion to a complete halt.  Which is just as well because some of us were at the limits of our knowledge and I’m not talking about the children.

No room at the Castle

We made our little pilgrimage to the Castle with Mary and Joseph on Sunday.  One unexpected aspect:  we got our pictures taken by a lot of tourists….Samuel figured out how to kind of wear the puppet and put his hand into Joseph’s sleeve, so Joseph walked along very tall, waving at people…I really wish I hadn’t lost the charger to my camera.

Spiritual impact?  Not sure yet.  Fun together, talking about Mary and Joseph (and their baby) outwith the church building.  Spiritual impact for the adults definitely.  The woman who met us at the entrance to the Castle and had the task of telling us that there was “no room,” found it really difficult!  Especially when one of the children pointed out, “But it’s HUGE!  There must be room in there!”  We all stayed in role and walked sadly away from the castle, and back to church.  Next week we’ll try somewhere else…

Resisting the presssure to celebrate Advent

I know, we are supposed to be resisting the pressure to celebrate Christmas.  Every year I do, I scowl at the cards in the shops in September, the Christmas music in the shops in October, the trees and decorations.  I’ve learned that Advent is a season of waiting, of expectant hope, of waiting for the time when we’ll commemorate in celebration Jesus’ birth as a person long ago, and also waiting, alertly,  for the moments when we experience Christ in the here-and-now, and even, if we can stretch ourselves theologically this far, of waiting for Christ’s return at the end of time, when every tear will be dried.

Advent is a season of waiting, not a season of celebration and fulfillment.  We shouldn’t – liturgically – be celebrating Christmas during this time, shouldn’t be feasting, having parties, singing Christmas carols.  That should all wait – and that waiting will help us experience the mood of the season.

But waiting isn’t refusing.  Expectant hope doesn’t equal being a killjoy.  When something is offered, is present – a party, a song, a tree-lighting celebration, “Silver Bells” on the PA system – are ignoring, declining, objecting, Christmas virtues?  I don’t actually object or decline, of course, but if I feel I ought, or somehow indicate to the children that we ought, how is that slight sourness helping to bring the Kingdom closer?    If we focus too much on the “wait,”- if waiting and alertness becomes delaying and control, we ignore the fact that the Kingdom is out of our control.  We’re waiting because it’s not here yet – not because it’s good to wait.  We should be longing, not waiting, and one who longs welcomes any sign of the approach of the beloved.

In real life, it’s not just the shops who want us to celebrate Christmas early.  In school, Christmas parties and events are well under way – our school fair is this Saturday, the day before Advent even begins! In the town, the trees are up and the lights are on.

This year,  I’m going to try giving in, and letting go.  In my own spiritual development, I knew about Christmas long before I ever learned about Advent.   I think I’m going to resist the “should” of  liturgical correctness and give in to the “should” of the shops, the schools, and the city. I’ve bought a chocolate Advent calendar and I’ve already spent an afternoon browsing the shops with my daughter looking at Christmas things.  (We saw a lot of expensive felt ornaments in George Street that we thought we could produce ourselves…)

 

Underchurch Las Posadas 2009

Last year we experimented with a version of Las Posadas within our church over the weeks of Advent.  Las Posadas is a tradition in Latin America, held over the 9 nights leading up to Christmas Eve.  In a community, nine houses are chosen, and each night, figures of Mary and Joseph are processed around the houses, asking for shelter, but being refused, until the ninth house lets them in.   Last year we carried the plaster figures from the crib scene to different locations within our church building.  This year, we’re making puppets, (less breakable!), and we’re going to take them to several places in the neighbourhood of the church building.  The idea of stepping outside the church to explore our surroundings came out of the City Centre Church Lent Group which several of us took part in.

The idea of accompanying Mary and Joseph (in our imagination) on their journey towards Jerusalem connects with the idea that we are all journeying towards Jerusalem, towards the birth of Jesus, in our understanding, our minds, and our hearts.  Advent is the season of waiting, of expecting, of journeying, toward our celebration of the birth of Jesus in historical time, towards a greater awareness of his presence with us at all times, and towards our expectation of his return.  These are big themes which it takes a lifetime to appreciate, and hopefully the children in our Underchurch and Crèche will have many Advents to explore them.  This year, I hope something resonates with the children, whether it’s the idea of travelling, the sense of expectation, the “not-yetness” of being told “no room at the inn”, and the peace of the final Sunday, when Mary and Joseph are finally welcomed to the stable within the church building.

 

Practicalities

Our plans are to visit several locations over Advent.  These are:

6 December:  Edinburgh Castle (just as far as the main gate)

13 December:  Castlecliff Homeless Hostel (the same; as far as the main entrance)

20 December: Johnstone Terrace Wildlife Reserve (we’ll go in and walk around)

 

Because we’ll be outside, it’s important that children have warm outdoor clothes.  We will need plenty of adult helpers. We’ll bring lanterns, some blocks of wood to make clip clop donkey noises, and if we’re brave enough, we’ll sing a little as we process around.  We hope to be able, within the service, to share a little of our adventures with the adults in the main service.