Thank you for your patience as you waited for this, my Advent blog for December. Of course, the world about us doesn't really view December as a month of Advent waiting, of self-reflection and stillness. Everywhere we go is in full-blown festive mode, with the soundtracks to match. When I was a child, an Advent calendar was a flimsy cardboard affair, on which you opened a tiny window to reveal the same printed images of a bell, a robin and a wrapped parcel as you had discovered with equal delight the previous year. By the time our children came along, Advent calendars required chocolate but here began my love of Advent and a determination to make Advent count. Our children grew up with a handmade Advent calendar that - yes - delivered a chocolate each day, but also revealed a magnet to stick on the dishwasher - 24 magnets, each one bearing a name attributed to Christ, with "Emmanuel" (God with us) always being saved for Christmas Eve. And now, today's luxury Advent calendars offer a full-size gift in each drawer or box, such that it really does seem like Christmas every day.
Yet, from those Advent magnets that I made 20+ years ago, as the years have gone on so my Advent traditions have continued to grow. I have playlists of Advent music that I only listen to during Advent; as the weather grows colder, I feel the yearning in my heart to put on these familiar tunes but resist until Advent has truly begun. My Advent wreath arrived during lockdown as a focus for our online services and is now central to my prayer space for this season. And then this year, I decided on another creative project in order to share my love of the season more widely; a moment's inspiration, a quick YouTube tutorial on chain stitch embroidery, and several quiet evenings later, and my Advent jumper was ready.
Still Advent - because it is still Advent and I refuse to be drawn into premature feasting. Our tree will go up over the last weekend before Christmas. Yet also Still Advent - as an invitation to restore the stillness into this beautiful season. Our ancestors prepared for the winter solstice by gathering together all they would need for the winter, retreating to their homes and the warmth of the hearth, lighting candles to brighten the darkness and reflecting on what the past year had held, preparing their hearts and minds for the new year to come. Advent in our church life is the start of that new year, a call to still ourselves, the liturgical colour of purple reminding us that this is a penitential season, a time to reflect on where we are with God and to seek Divine mercy. We prepare our hearts and minds to receive Christ afresh within our very being at Christmas, yet also we contemplate what it would mean to stand before our Creator when God comes in glory and answer for how we have responded to God's call upon our life. With that perspective, I'm certainly not rushing ahead; if this is the task of Advent, Lord, I'm going to need all the time you can give me. Kyrie Eleison.
So how are you going to prepare for the true task of Advent? How might you create that stillness amidst all the demands of the world around us? As part of my sermon yesterday, I invited the congregation to keep an extended, corporate silence. It was my gift to them - creating that space and stillness precisely because I acknowledge that it isn't easy when so much threatens to crowd it out. Spiritual discipline and holding onto a path that is counter-cultural never is easy but I believe truly that God honours us in our trying and that every moment we reclaim to spend time in stillness with the Divine is worth it.
So, I share with you here the poem that I wrote to introduce that time of corporate silence yesterday. At one level, it is a reflection on the Gospel reading for the Second Sunday of Advent, and John the Baptist's prophetic role. At another level, and for those of you with a more festive disposition already, you will of course recognise its inspiration from the original poem, 'A Visit from St Nicholas' by Clement Clarke Moore. (And for those not local to Cirencester, the opening reference to "Cheesus the mouse" is to a small, wooden mouse character who lives in our church building, and for whom visiting children are invited to search).
So find a cosy corner, be still, and invite God's presence...
‘Twas the month before Christmas, when all through God’s house
Not a heart was yet ready, ‘cept for Cheesus the mouse;
For everyone focused on all that would come:
The turkey and trimmings and pud soaked with rum
God’s children were feeling all smug in their faith;
Forgetting the words of the prophets that scathe.
They’d decked all their halls for their plentiful guests
But had scarcely had time to pray or to rest.
When out in the desert there arose such a clatter,
The crowds went to see just what was the matter.
Away to the Scriptures I flew like a flash,
Tore open the pages for words to surpass.
A voice crying out to make his paths straight,
To seek God’s repentance, for Christ we should wait!
And then to my wondering eyes did appear,
A great vision of glory - God’s coming was near,
With angels and seraphs and gold ornament,
Not presents and crackers, but divine judgment.
More rapid than posties his warnings they came,
Will you all be ready when I call your name?
“Now, Catherine! now, Thomas! now Richard and Harry!
On, Peter! on, Pauline! on, Terry and Sally!
To those who are hungry! to those who are poor!
God’s kingdom is coming! Throw open the door”
Go leave all your plans and follow my lead,
Stop trusting in baubles; Christ’s all that you need.
So out to the town and its people they flew
With their souls full of longing, for now that they knew
The task set before them was no wrapping, or mart
But a message to wait reaching deep in their heart.
So I lit up a candle, and with silence around,
Through the stillness God’s Spirit came in with a bound.
She was dressed all in peace, from her head to her foot,
I’d never have noticed if I’d not stopped to look.
A bundle of gifts she had flung on her back,
Love, Joy and Gentleness were tucked in her sack.
Her gaze—how it sparkled! her wisdom eternal!
I needed no words and so set down my journal.
In silence she told me that Advent was here,
a time to reflect that God’s coming is near,
Not shepherds and angels, a stable and kings
But judgment and kingdom, the eternal things.
Don’t spend all this time without giving a thought
To the tasks God has set you; not gifts to be bought.
The times yet to come will ask all that you have
If truly you’re ready for all that God gave
The guest who is coming is no Santa or elf,
But the true Word of God, dwelling within oneself.
Then love in my heart, and deep peace in my head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
She spoke no more word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all God’s children; then turned with a jerk,
To look to her messenger, still waiting aside,
With a nod she did send him to where he did abide.
He took up his tunic, towards the great river’s flow
And on with his journey the Baptiser did go.
But I heard him exclaim, ere to wild’ness he went
“Prepare the way for the Lord, and remember Advent!”
Silence is kept
God of Advent, whose coming in glory we await,
Keep our eyes fixed upon you and,
In the midst of the bustle and celebration around us,
Help us to seek your peace and stillness
That we might truly be ready to welcome you
once more into our hearts,
through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
News
Last month, I was delighted in having completed my latest icon commission and promised you a photograph, so here is my Christ Pantocrator icon, which is now safely with its new owner...
Over the past month, I was also blessed by a trip to Gloucester Cathedral. For reasons that I'll spare you, the type of licence I hold as a priest needed to be changed, such that in the stillness of the Lady Chapel at the cathedral, I was licensed by the Bishop of Tewkesbury as Priest - Iconographer to the benefice of Cirencester with Watermoor. As always, God managed to transform what might have been a very simple service into a memorable occasion. I'm truly grateful for the express inclusion of my role as iconographer into that service and for the Bishop allowing one of my icons to be placed on the altar.
Since then, I've completed another commission in time for its last posting date before Christmas. This is a particularly exciting one, since it is the first time one of my icons has been destined for abroad, in this case, to the outskirts of Chicago. It also gave me particular joy, since it was of the Blessed Lancelot Andrewes, a distinctly Anglican 'saint', and there were very few examples to work from. In fact, I found only one, which wasn't suitable for a straight copy, so it was a real privilege and joy to create a new design. As I write, it is on its way, so that photo (again) will have to wait until next time.
So I'm pottering my way towards Christmas now in the studio, with a mixture of calligraphy practice, and making a start on my next icon commission, alongside taking a few more services in church as we journey through the remainder of Advent. I trust that, with me, you will be able to find some stillness as we savour this most blessed season.
Advent blessings to you all.
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