Dec. 3: The Garden: A Place of Intimate Communion

Garden of Desire (overall and detail view), Gilded illuminated manuscript on vellum. Scribe and Artist: Donald Jackson. Hebrew Script: Izzy Pludwinski. © 2006 The Saint John’s Bible, Saint John’s University, Collegeville, Minnesota, USA. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

“In The Garden” from the album Softly and Tenderly byCynthia Clawson.

“The Garden” from the album Alive Again byAudrey Assad and Matt Maher.

Poetry:

“Their Lonely Betters”
by W.H. Auden

As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.

A robin with no Christian name ran through
The Robin-Anthem which was all it knew,
And rustling flowers for some third party waited
To say which pairs, if any, should get mated.

Not one of them was capable of lying,
There was not one which knew that it was dying
Or could have with a rhythm or a rhyme
Assumed responsibility for time.

Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep:
Words are for those with promises to keep.

THE GARDEN: A PLACE OF INTIMATE COMMUNION

The woman from Song of Songs could not present a starker contrast to the Eve of the Fall. Whereas Eve turns her ear to the voice of the serpent, her eye desirous of the fruit, the woman from the Song listens for her lover, desiring only him. Whereas Eve hides in shame, the woman from the Song is confident and assured. Exile, shame, and hiding are absurdly out of place in the Song of Songs. She freely explores the trees and their fruits. Like the singer in today’s music selection, “Garden,” she seems to ask, “What was this thing they call the Fall?” ––as though it is some long-forgotten memory. The garden imagery in the Song of Songs simply drips with pulsating life. Consider today’s artwork, the deep red of a ripened pomegranate, life dripping off and scattering like seeds.

We are transported to another garden in the passage from John, though here the tomb serves as the center. John draws us back to the darkness of creation as Mary heads towards the tomb, “on the first day….it was still dark” (John 20:1). Playfully, John teases that Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener. Or was she really mistaken? Perhaps she is seeing him more clearly now, the one walking in his garden in the cool of the day. In her recognition she calls him, “Rabboni! (which means teacher).” Gardener, teacher. We can add to it the declarations of identity by the woman of the Song for whom there is no fear as she calls him King and no condescension as she calls him shepherd. These things are simply true of him, and she has opened herself to being formed by these truths. He calls her beautiful, and she acknowledges her beauty. He calls her one who dwells in the gardens (Song of Songs 8:13), and so she makes her home with him, the maker of gardens.

Whereas Eve desires the fruit, the knowledge of good and evil, the woman of the Song desires the person, and so her understanding of what is good becomes defined by him. This is the kind of teaching we were meant to have, one where the desires of our hearts are shaped and formed, pruned, and planted by the Gardener, the Teacher. For Mary though, like us, the joy of seeing Jesus is as intense as the moment is brief. The story jolts us forward as evening sets in once again (John 20:19). The cycle of days continues, and Jesus will be going to the Father soon. She is unable to touch him now, but her eyes have been directed to the one who teaches her heart about home and love.

We, too, this Advent may feel the jolt of time moving forward––“and then it was evening, and then it was morning” ––feel the distance as we seek the One we love. The depth and complexity of the wilderness around us is made tangible by loss, pain, guilt, and shame. Like Mary, may we turn our eyes to Christ, who names us, who calls us by name––that he may define for us what life and home really are. It may be that in doing so, we become more aware of how barren this wilderness is, allowing ourselves to grieve all the deeper. May it also be that in cleaving to the Gardener that life, redemption, forgiveness, and fellowship begin to sprout in and around us, becoming the evidence of a much greater source. Let us remember that we are the ones who dwell in the gardens.

Prayer:
Meet us, Lord, where we are. In your presence, may our understanding of life and love expand so greatly that guilt and shame fall away, that we might become what you made us to be.
Amen.

Stacie Poston
Adjunct Instructor
Torrey Honors College
Biola University

For more information about the artwork, music, and poetry selected for this day, please visit our website via the link in our bio.