The Advent wreath takes pride of place with its colored candles, while garlands of plastic greenery drape from wall hangers, upright pianos and other available surfaces.
Fifty years ago, neither I nor the good folks of Loco Baptist Church, where I served as pastor, had ever heard of Advent. They put out a few poinsettias for Christmas, but that was about it. Sometime after moving to my first full-time pastorate in Hogansville, Georgia, I learned about Advent and introduced it to the church.
We still had two services every Sunday, and when I suggested that we devote a whole service to decorating the sanctuary, they liked the idea. The only debate concerned what to call the service: was it a “Hanging of the Green” or “Hanging of the Greens”?
There would be multiple green things involved, after all, but we finally agreed on “Hanging of the Green,” even though some thought it sounded a bit uppity.
I can still appreciate a well-planned “Hanging of the Green” service, but I confess to finding more frequent joy in another late fall event – the cooking of the greens.
We live in a typical suburban neighborhood where decent-sized houses sit on tiny plots of land. Ours is the only one with a garden in the front yard. In the summer, it is devoted to varieties of squash and peas, tomatoes and okra. When those play out, we plant fall crops that may include broccoli, cauliflower, or beets, but always a few rows of collards.
Sometimes I feel closest to God when I’m close to the earth, watching seeds sprout and plants grow, remembering the first creation story’s account of God giving to humankind “every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food” (Gen. 1:29).
The collards grow through the fall, and the season of Advent usually coincides with prime time for picking collards and the cooking of the greens.
They’re especially delicious when cooked with ham or bacon, but we’ve been trying to save the planet by cutting back significantly on meat. No matter: my wife Susan has concocted a seasoning sauce that delivers a similar flavor.
Formal worship can be meaningful, but a simple meal of cornbread and collards speaks to me just as clearly of God’s goodness and the season’s hope.