Category Archives: saints

A Psalm and a tree for Advent.

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This is a re-post from only three years ago, but it’s meaningful to me in a fresh way this year because now, instead of teaching little ones at church, I’m back with the high schoolers, and our lesson on the Holy Forefathers will be presented differently.

Also, this week I meditated on Psalm 89/90, “A Prayer of Moses, a man of God,” and Moses is one of those Holy Forefathers we are remembering. Because of its repentant tone, it was an answer to my prayer for guidance in how better to prepare for the Feast of the Nativity of Christ, in the short time remaining.

It’s a morning prayer, to help us focus at the outset on God instead of on our sorrows, and to keep at bay the feeling of hopelessness that lies in wait at the door of our heart. The poetry conveys so well the patience of God, and the way our longings and heartaches coexist with thankfulness and repentance:

….Lord, Thou hast been our refuge in generation and generation.
….Before the mountains came to be and the earth was formed, and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art.
….
….As for the days of our years, in their span they be threescore years and ten.
….And if we be in strength, mayhap fourscore years; and what is more than these is toil and travail.
….For mildness has come upon us, and we shall be chastened.
….
….Return, O Lord; how long? And be Thou entreated concerning Thy servants.
….We were filled in the morning with Thy mercy, O Lord, and we rejoiced and were glad.
….In all our days let us be glad for the days wherein we saw evils.
….And look upon Thy servants, and upon Thy works, and do Thou guide their sons.
….And let the brightness of the Lord our God be upon us, and works of our hands do Thou guide aright upon us, yea, the works of our hands do Thou guide aright.

From 2022:

Today is the Sunday of the Forefathers of Christ, His ancestors according to the flesh. We remember these who lived “before the Law and under the Law,” especially the Patriarch Abraham, to whom God said, “In thy seed shall all of the nations of the earth be blessed” (Gen. 12:3, 22:18).

I brought an icon of the Prophet David to stand up on the table in my church school class, and we talked about David as a shepherd boy, his killing of a lion who was threatening the sheep, his composing songs, and his anointing by the Prophet Samuel. (But first, we must chat about St. Nicholas and Santa, because he was strongly on the minds of the four- and five-year-olds.)

When I took the icon out of my bag again at home, I set it up downstairs, and lit a candle to help me keep remembering for the remainder of today. Maybe I will leave it here through next Sunday, when we remember more of these saints; the next church school lesson will focus on the Hebrew Children in the Fiery Furnace.

One thing I didn’t discuss with the children, but would be fun to teach older students about, is the Tree of Jesse, a visual depiction of the genealogy of Jesus Christ. Jesse was the father of King David; his roots extend down and back to his own forefathers including  Abraham, the Father of the Faithful; and Jesse was himself the root, or progenitor, of David’s line, which culminated in Christ the Messiah.

Jesse Tree icons must necessarily include so much information, they somewhat overwhelm me. When looking at them I tend to concentrate on Jesse himself, lying at the base of the tree, with its trunk growing out his very body.

Jesse Window detail, Dorchester Abbey
Wells Cathedral Jesse Window

Stained glass windows portraying the Jesse tree, which abound in Britain, are also a bit much for me to take in. Often they are in tall cathedrals and extend up a whole wall, the figures distant and their names unreadable. As I was looking at some online I was happy to find Val Stevens talking about the Jesse Window at Wells Cathedral, which window I no doubt saw when I visited there with daughter Pippin, but I don’t remember.

It’s a very short video (which ends with a request for contributions which are no longer needed, because the repairs have been completed), and she speaks for only two minutes, but she made me laugh with joy when she began to speak about the rare crucifixion scene that is in that window, which dates from the 14th century. The stem turns green, and takes the form of a cross, on which the Savior hangs. When she got to the part about the meaning of the green wood, or what it meant to the medieval mind, my heart leapt to hear it, and to see the change in her body language as she moved from purely artistic ideas, to the more compelling realities of the heart: Jesse Window of Wells Cathedral

Ansgar Holmberg

Also I want to share a quote I have posted before, more than once, because it pulls together several of these images, metaphors, and real people in our salvation history, in our cultural tradition. This is about a different sort of tree, the more familiar and ubiquitous Christmas tree! From Metropolitan Hierotheos Vlachos:

“I suspect that the custom of decorating a tree at Christmas time is not simply a custom which came to us from the West and which we should replace with other more Orthodox customs. To be sure, I have not gone into the history of the Christmas tree and where it originated, but I think that it is connected with the Christmas feast and its true meaning.

“First, it is not unrelated to the prophecy of the Prophet Isaiah: ‘There shall come forth a Rod from the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots’ (Is. 11:1). St. Cosmas the poet had this prophecy in mind when he wrote of Christ as the blossom which rose up out of the Virgin stem from the stump of Jesse. The root is Jesse, David’s father, the rod is King David, the flower which came from the root and the rod is Theotokos. And the fruit which came forth from the flower of the Panagia is Christ. Holy Scripture presents this wonderfully.

“Thus the Christmas tree can remind us of the genealogical tree of Christ as Man, the love of God, but also the successive purifications of the Forefathers of Christ. At the top is the star which is the God-Man (Theanthropos) Christ. Then, the Christmas tree reminds us of the tree of knowledge as well as the tree of life, but especially the latter. It underlines clearly the truth that Christ is the tree of life and that we cannot live or fulfill the purpose of our existence unless we taste of this tree, ‘the producer of life.’

“Christmas cannot be conceived without Holy Communion. And of course as for Holy Communion it is not possible to partake of deification in Christ without having conquered the devil, when we found ourselves faced with temptation relative to the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, where our freedom is tried. We rejoice and celebrate, because ‘the tree of life blossomed from the Virgin in the cave’.”

-Excerpt from: “The Feasts of the Lord: An Introduction to the 12 Feasts and Orthodox Christology” by Metropolitan of Nafpatkos Hierotheos Vlachos – November 1993. 

I’ve known families who used a Jesse Tree along with their Advent wreath as helps in Advent. But oh, my, out of curiosity I just looked at some current Pinterest-era examples, and had to abort that browsing quick; it was plenty for a Sunday afternoon to look at stained glass windows.

My daughters and I have been sharing memories this month, from our homes scattered across the country; posting photos of past and current Christmas trees, reminiscing about Christmas caroling, and recalling their father’s voice and his Christmas joy. This year I will have neither a Jesse nor a Christmas tree, but I feel rich with history and symbols and family. There’s my earthly family, and there is the heavenly family into which I’ve been adopted by the Father. Today I’m especially grateful for all those patriarchs and prophets who have gone before and who encourage me by their lives of faith.

By faith You justified the Forefathers,
when through them You betrothed Yourself beforehand
to the Church of the Gentiles.
The saints boast in glory,
that from their seed there is a glorious fruit:
she who bore You without seed.
By their prayers, O Christ God, save our souls.

-Hymn for the Feast

St. Nicholas Day through the years.

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On this day ten years ago I did not post anything about St. Nicholas, whose feast day it was and is. Just now I was checking back through the years to find out what I’ve already said about the God-loving man who is so dear to people all over the world, when I discovered this post from ten years ago, at the time my new garden was pretty much installed (the back part of the property). If I didn’t have pictures like the one below, I would not believe how fast a garden can happen. The fountain shown did not remain long, because it exfoliated in its first winter and was returned to the nursery where I’d bought it.

Early December 2015

The most enjoyable posts here over the years on St. Nicholas Day seem to me these two: One when I traveled to a parish of which he is the patron saint, and one in which I have a lovely icon and the quote from Fr. Thomas Hopko in honor of him. So if you’d like to read about St. Nicholas or his feast you can click on those links. One of the posts includes this photo:

2025 is another year in which I won’t be celebrating with our sister parish on their feast day, because I am not completely well from a cold that knocked me down a bit, and I’m catching up on rest and everything else that didn’t happen for a few days. But it doesn’t feel right to let the day pass without joining in the commemoration at some level.

St Nicholas of Myra, 12th century; Church of Saint Nicholas of the Roof, Troodos mountains, Cyprus.

I’m sure that after Divine Liturgy for the feast, everyone at St. Nicholas parish will be singing this song at their festal meal. It is playing in my mind right now:

Though they are singing in a different language, Old Church Slavonic or Russian, I like the rendition of these men the best:  “O Who Loves Nicholas the Saintly.”

I pray that the joy of St. Nicholas reaches you wherever you are.

In my happy places.

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First there was the mega mega gardening week, when I dug chicken manure into 23 little holes and dropped in starts of four different leafy greens; I wrestled with juniper roots to reclaim space; and put back into the ground eleven iris rhizomes of the dozens I’d lifted a month before — and hours upon hours of other such work. It was thoroughly happy-making.

The yard worker had brought in and spread 1.5 yards of soil during my last absence, so that I would be ready to plant when I got home. This neighbor cat thinks its for her potty purposes:

Rosemary and Pomegranate

It must have been extra grace and strength God bestowed on me for the week, because every day I was at it again; the nights gave sound sleep, and that surely helped. I moved heuchera that were languishing in deep shade, to be near my umbrella table corner, where they will likely do better in partial shade.

In that area where I like to sit with guests it’s been hard to find flowers that do well, but since I’ve realized that the increased shadiness of the back garden is the problem, I hope to improve the situation by using more appropriate species. I set out pansies along there, too, for the winter, and in the spring I plan to add Japanese anemones. The goal is to have something blooming most of the year.

Salvia
Abelia with comfrey.
Nodding Violet

Propagation is a joy! I finally dug out at least some of the comfrey that has been shooting up from under the abelia, and put three pieces in nursery pots; if they grow I will stick them against a fence somewhere. I know they do fine in deep shade; when I first brought a start from my former garden in 1990 it grew for years under the osmanthus. But since the osmanthus is gone the comfrey has planted itself in undesirable places nearby.

A friend told me that her Christmas cactus and aloe vera had died, and I happened to have a small Christmas cactus that I had propagated a year or two ago to give her. Also I have three aloe vera plants in pots and they all have babies right now, so I potted one up for her.  When I trimmed the apple mint and rose geranium and nodding violet I stuck a few stems in water, where they are likely to send out roots.

Aloe Vera offering her child.

It’s been fun visiting nurseries at this time of year, though I do have pangs of (I hope false) guilt that I am tempting myself to plant gluttony. I always forget about Iceland poppies until I see them in the nurseries… and let’s see, what else did I find that I wasn’t expecting? English daisies. They do well in part-shade, also. At the moment I haven’t figured out where to put those daisies.

Above is one of my work tables, showing another of my finds at the nursery: stock. I put three plants in a pot to have ready when the asters stop blooming: then I can remove their pot and put this one by the front door.

The gardening spree hasn’t ended, and probably won’t for another few weeks. In the meantime the garden as a whole is a paradise to walk around in, and just look at. In the middle of the afternoon when the sun is shining, the bees are busy still, but they get up late and go to bed early now. The multitude of plants that don’t need attention of any kind at the moment appear especially lovely; they are contented in their slowing down. The atmosphere is quieter and less bright, more meditative.

Pineapple guavas are still tiny, but growing.

In the rain.

Last week I was racing the rain, which arrived Friday night. I could hardly walk Saturday morning anyway, so that marked the end of the most strenuous week, and ushered in the glorious weekend. From Saturday evening to Monday morning it was again and again granted to me to be in my other happy place, the Orthodox church temple where I worship. First the feast of St. Demetrios, the first celebration of that event since I visited Thessaloniki in June, at which time I had became better acquainted with the saint. He is wonderful.

The next day was the first commemoration since her canonization, of our 20th century American saint Olga of Alaska, Mother Olga Michael. It was especially significant for me, because our parish is suffering alongside a family whose wife and mother is in the hospital; we all are needing extra mothering of the consoling and encouraging sort Saint Olga is famous for.

“Her name in the Yup’ik language was Arrsamquq, a name meaning lowly, hidden, or unadorned—like the seed sown quietly in the earth. It was a name that would prophetically mark her life, for she lived not in boastfulness or acclaim, but in humility, reverence, and love.” 

Stories abound of Mother Olga’s loving midwifery, how she helped women sufferers of abuse, and was overall a calming and motherly presence to her own children and everyone around her. You can read the source of these quotes and more about her here: “Righteous Mother Olga of Kwethluk.”

“As she matured, she married Nicolai Michael, the village storekeeper and postmaster, who would later be ordained to the holy priesthood. In time, she would become known not only as Olga, but as Matushka Olga—a mother to thirteen children of her own, and a spiritual mother to an entire village. Quiet, gentle, and strong, she became a pillar of warmth and grace in Kwethluk.”

“The Yup’ik elders say: ‘A real person does not disappear, but remains in the hearts of those they have loved.’ In the Church, we say more: A real person in Christ becomes a saint, and the hearts they have loved, in communion with the Lord, become the Church, the living body of Christ in the world.”

The presence of Mother Olga was a Happy Place for many people.

May we all lean into the Lord,
and into becoming our real, personal selves.
Let us seek and find and live in
the Kingdom of God.