A letter from Katie Griffin in Argentina
November 17, 2012
The jacarandá tree accross the street from our house, Nov. 10, 2012.
Say among the nations, “The LORD is king!
The world is firmly established;
it shall never be moved.
He will judge the peoples with equity.”
Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice;
let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
let the field exult, and everything in it.
Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy
before the LORD; for he is coming,
for he is coming to judge the earth.
He will judge the world with righteousness,
and the peoples with his truth.
Psalm 96:10-13
This may not be such a usual biblical text at Advent and Christmastime. Nevertheless, I had an Advent epiphany last year for the first time since I have been in Argentina, 14 years! Since I grew up in the central region of New York state, I have always been used to the typical contrasts of light and dark, warmth and cold that are so easily interpreted as symbols of the hope that the birth of the Christ child brings. Living in the southern hemisphere, and in somewhat more northern latitudes of the south (about like Charleston, S.C., only on the southern side of the equator) has added to the usual stress and tension that Christmas can bring to busy families. Nature, as I was accustomed to her, was NOT collaborating with the feel of the Christmas season.
Now this is the first year in four years that I am approaching the Christmas season with relative physical and emotional health, in spite of the crazy business of the end of the year. I think last year’s epiphany has played an important part in my healing process.
In Argentina, December marks the end of the calendar year, the end of the fiscal year, and the end of the school year. Culturally, December and January are not so much dates with significant religious symbolism as they are dates that mark the splurge of activities related to closing the school year, making sure the accounting books are closed properly, and summer vacation. The mad consumerism of the northern Atlantic countries has begun to appear in gift shops in the last 10 or 15 years, but even though we are in a Catholic country, the sense of Christmas that Christianity has given to these dates is hard to find.
Last year one of my colleagues at ISEDET, where I am teaching, began to talk about how much he loved the smell of the night air at Christmastime. The Tilo trees open up their small, light green, almost invisible flowers in the evening and release their sweet perfume. November is the month that the beautiful light purple flowers of the jacarandá bloom and leave the ground covered with their light purple “snow.” Where we live, when the hot summer wind is blowing from the north it brings with it the smell of the garbage dump. So my new symbols for Christmas hope are the stench of garbage and the perfume of the Tilo; the heat of summer, and the beauty of the flowering trees. “LET THE EARTH REJOICE... LET THE FIELD EXULT... THE TREES OF THE FOREST SING FOR JOY ... FOR THE LORD IS COMING!”
My son, Brian, in the year end Circus festival at his Kindergarten, Nov. 17, 2012
So now, at this time of the year, when my son has extra activities because he is graduating from preschool/kindergarten and my daughter because she has joined a roller skating club and is preparing an end-of-the-year choreography with the rest of the girls at the club, when my husband, my brother-in-law, and my daughter have birthdays to prepare for, when Presbyterian World Mission is insisting that I send in the rest of my receipts for various expenses during the year, when papers need to be graded, and we have extra faculty meetings, and my husband is preparing the church where he is pastoring for Christmas events, and so on and so on with all of the rush of December... I am learning to stop and breathe deep. The mix of the evening perfumes of garbage and Tilo remind me of the hope that the Christ child brings to restore my sinful nature, my hurts, and the aches and pains of all of creation.
My husband is a Pentecostal pastor and the son of a Pentecostal pastor. Pentecostalism in Argentina has tended to shun the observation of higher liturgies because they associate them with a meaningless Catholic traditionalism. He works hard to help the children and youth in the Bible School and soup kitchen program to think about what it means to have faith in Christ in the midst of oftentimes violent family situations. His work is to compare and contrast the peace that faith, hope and love in the Christ child can bring when family members use vacation days as a reason to get drunk, send off fireworks in the streets, and oftentimes cause violence and destruction in their homes and neighborhoods. The children are preparing skits and small plays that can help them to think of ways in which Jesus Christ is present in the midst of poverty and violence.
The December 8 holiday is important here in Argentina as the Roman Catholic Church celebrates the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary. This is also the day that Argentines tend to decorate their houses to celebrate not only Mary but also the entire Holy Family. Some evangelical churches follow the ecumenical Advent calendars and liturgies and incorporate religious symbolism in their communities. This rich religious symbolism tends to be absent from Pentecostal liturgies.
So I am left with the feast that Nature herself brings to my eyes and nose to remind me of my Creator, Savior and Holy Comforter in the midst of our struggles to bring faith, hope and love to our own families and to the communities in which we live and serve.
May the peace of Christ be present in your Advent and Christmas season!
Katie Griffin
The 2012 Presbyterian Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 26
The 2013 Presbyterian Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 36
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