Light in the Darkness: An Illuminated Advent Garden Walk
December 21st, sundown at 4:37 pm. So cold. So dark.
Electric lights and power grids shelter many of us from the darkest, longest night of the year. It was hard not to wonder how our neighbours in the encampment just six blocks from the church, get through such nights.
Outside the garden walls, it was both busy and heavy. You probably remember. The COVID case load was climbing. Some people were stepping up their search for Christmas gifts, most were changing whatever plans they had made, and almost everyone was searching for rapid tests and better masks. The restrictions became more restrictive, and there were fresh griefs unfolding on the evening news.
The garden walk was planned to help the congregation reflect on Advent themes and to show hospitality to the people who live in the church’s physical neighbourhood –especially the folk who live on Willow, between Robie and Agricola. These neighbours know us best through their use of the lovely garden tucked behind the church. Children play there, and since 2016, some of our neighbours have planted and harvested food from our church’s garden boxes.
The idea grew (bonfire, cider, carols, and cookies) and then contracted, because of increasing COVID cases. In the end, it was reduced to the original, most basic plan: an illuminated Advent garden walk on the shortest day of the year, December 21.
It was not a gathering, but rather a place prepared to welcome Christians and non-Christians alike. We staggered access to inhibit mingling, and to allow for personal reflection. We wanted to connect at a basic level, and felt that the experience of the longest winter night was a great place to start.
At the garden gate, we posted Susan Cooper’s poem about the shortest day. Enjoy this picture book version, illustrated by Carson Ellis, here:
Twenty-two people walked through the garden. Among those, eight were some of our long-standing neighbours. One of them was so touched that she went home and brought two people back with her. It was also a beautiful experience for the three of us who kept watch and helped where needed. Our jobs were so simple! We greeted our visitors, checked proof of vaccine, explained the path, handed them a lantern, and made sure that they had time to progress a good way through the stations before we let the next person/household begin. Amid the beautiful hush on that cold, dark night, people expressed gratitude for the space, and the opportunity for quiet contemplation. There were some tears.
Here are some of the thoughts that they shared:
“This is a healing place.”
“It is hard to have hope right now. Things like this give me hope.”
Visit the garden for yourself, through the very amateur video linked below.
God bless you in these last hours of Advent, as you prepare to celebrate the gentle, irreversible coming of the Light of the World, our dear Jesus.
~ special thanks to Emily, Aaron, Reuben, Maggie, and Dorothy — and for others who supplied cookies given as our visitors left the garden.