Especially for parents and grandparents of little ones
and adults who have forgotten how and why to jump. 

Preparing to Jump for Joy

Many worlds ago, I used to work as a pastoral associate at a Catholic Church. From time to time our youth minister who was my colleague and friend used to invite me in to speak to various age groups of young folks. My favorite gigs were those when I was invited to speak to the little people, say, preschool or Kindergarten to second grade. Given that my mentor was a backwater craftsman turned preacher from Nazareth, I would usually tell them stories. Other times I would try to invite them into a participative experience. To this day they were the most attentive audience or assembly I ever had.

My mission one December—should I choose to accept it, and I did—was the nearly impossible task of teaching these munchkins about Advent.

Up close and personal, they gathered around me on the floor tight as a moshpit (see, I’m not that old) only sitting. I began this way.

“I want to tell you about this special time of year. It’s called the season of Advent. Have any of you heard that word before—Advent?” A smattering of them raised their hands.

“ADVENT is a season,” I said. “The season of Advent. Who knows what a season is?” A lot of hands shot up.“ I pointed to a girl who went from sitting to a kneeling-upright position before she said, “It’s like winter.”

“Yes,” I said, “Winter is a season. What can you tell me about winter?” I asked. Hands shot up again this time accompanied by some vocalized “Ooh—Ooh—Oohs” which I’ve learned is Greek or slang for “Call on me.”

One boy said, “It gets really cold and really dark.”

“Yes,” I said.
Another boy said, “Sometimes it snows.”

“Yes.”

A girl in the back of this mob of mushrooms said, “We get our Christmas tree and my dad puts up lights on our house.”

“Great.” Others offered responses that filled out our lexicon of winter.

“Who can tell me any other seasons?” I asked, to which the children answered summer, and spring (autumn typically gets forgotten). One small boy said football. His pal said basketball. I smiled and pointed to a girl in a blue sweater with snowflakes on it who was stretching her arm and hand so high and hard I thought she’d pull a muscle if I didn’t call on her. She said, “Oregano.”

My smile widened and I chuckled. “Ah, Oregano. Yes, of course. There are spices and seasoning we put on our food to make it taste better.” I double-backed to winter before I lost control of the moshers and we got lost in the weeds looking for herbs.

“Who can tell me what season it is now?” A toe-headed boy in a Seahawks jersey said, “It’s winter.”

“Yes,” I said. “Someone said they get a tree and put up lights on their house in winter time? How come?”

The wiggly tadpoles shouted in unison, “Because it’s Christmas.”

“That’s right we celebrate Christmas in winter? What happens on Christmas?”

I pointed to a little girl who went from a half-lotus to her knees to a standing position in a second and a half. “Jesus gets born,” she said.

“That’s right. Mary and Joseph have a baby they named Jesus.”

I said, “I bet some of you have baby brothers or sisters,” and—unsolicited—those who did let me know by waving their hands. “Remember how your mommy and daddy did some things to get ready for when your baby brother or sister was born? Maybe they put up a crib or painted a bedroom and some of their friends might have thrown a party and given them blankets and bottles and diapers and baby clothes.” Little bobbleheads bobbled “Yes.”

“ADVENT—can you say Advent?”

“ADVENT.”

“Advent is the season or the time of year when we get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus.”

“My daddy said he was born in a barn with cows and sheep and stuff,” offered a boy to my left.

“Yes, he was. We are in the season of Advent right now so we want to get ready for when we tell the story of when Jesus was born. Jesus is our special Christmas present from God.” It was time for a visual aid before I lost them.

“Does anybody know what an accordion is?” I asked, as little heads nodded and I pulled out a piece of paper 2’ x 3’ that I had folded up tight like an accordion. “It’s an instrument,” isn’t it, “that makes music when you pull it out and push it in, right?’

I pulled the folded paper out sideways in front of me, closed it, and then did it again. I had drawn a primitive picture of Mary cradling Jesus with Joseph and shepherds and cows and goats and sheep and chickens jumping into the air behind her.

I turned the folded paper vertically and unfolded it just enough that it showed Josephs’s head and bearded face. Now the eyes of my audience were big as quarters and shiny as bottle caps. I began to unfold the paper upwards slowly, then quickly stretched it up all the way quickly then slowly folded it back down tightly. I repeated the action two, three times as Joseph and the shepherds and their animal friends jumped up in the air and then gathered themselves back down and then leaped up again and gathered themselves back down and one more time a jump for joy and then back down unseen and the kids giggled and smiled and laughed.

“Alright, everybody up!” I asked the youngsters to spread out some so that the mosh pit became a quasi-aerobics class—all of us together but each person having space to move. I said, “What are Joseph and the shepherds and the animals doing in the picture? I asked unfolding it again to show them.”

“They are jumping,” the friendly mob shouted.

“Why are they jumping?” I asked.

Because they are happy.” “Because Jesus was born.” “So they could see Jesus” (that must have been shouted by a tyke named Zacchaeus).

“Yes! They are jumping for joy. They are jumping because they are so happy because God gave them Jesus as a special present.”

“Okay, now I want everybody to stand up as straight as you can,” I said, doing so myself—chin up, shoulders pulled back, legs straight as poles. Suddenly the room had a horde of girls and boys standing as erect and unmoving as the ballet’s Nutcracker doll not-yet-come-to life.

“On the count of three, I want us to jump for joy, to jump as high as we can to show how happy we are going to be on Christmas Day. But remember, you have to keep your chin up, your hands by your pockets, and your legs straight. You cannot bend your knees.”

“One! Two! Three!” All hell in the hall broke loose, albeit rather stiffly. They jumped as high as they could or at least tried to. Their squeals and laughter were higher than their heels. They looked like Mexican jumping beans on Viagra.

“Oh, come on!” I chided. “That’s not very high.” They kept at it like mummies with feet.

“Okay, okay. Wait, wait wait! Shhh. Shhhh.” It took a while but I got them settled down and stiffly positioned again. “This won’t do,” I said. “If we are full of joy, if we are really happy, we have to be able to jump much much higher.” Though pacing back and forth I gave them my best mimicry of Rodin’s The Thinker—head slightly tilted down, fist to chin, deep in thought.

Alright. Who has an idea how we can jump, I mean REALLY jump for joy?

There was no lack of first responders as there was a chorus singing some version of “Let us bend our knees. Let us use our arms.”

“Wow! Yeah! That’s a great idea. Let’s try this again. Okay. Everybody stand still again.” They did. “Stand very tall, as tall as you can. Put your arms straight down with your hands at your pockets.” One tiny tot in a sweater and skirt said, “What if we don’t have any pockets?” I said, “Pretend you have pockets. Now,” demonstrating again, “I want you to put your chin up. Keep your legs straight.” I heard a few disgruntled groans. “Now, let me show you what I want you to do on the count of three.” I slowly bent my knees, folded myself down with my butt out, my face turned toward the floor, and put my arms and hands out behind me ready to jump.” From this position, I said, “When you get like this and I say ‘THREE!” I want you to jump for joy.

I stood up. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
I  said again, “READY?!”
“YES!” they screamed.
“Okay, do what I do. Then, we’re going to jump for joy as high as we can. Oh, and when you jump you can shout and laugh and smile and giggle to show how happy you are.”

One!” I began slowly to make like a vertical accordion compressing. They giggled and squirmed. “Two!” I bent all the way down as they imitated me. Then “THREE!” And all heaven in the hall broke out, like a gathering of giddy, joy-filled aerobatic angels jumping for joy.

When all the commotion settled down a bit I regathered the munchkins into a mosh pit at my feet and asked them to sit down. They did so, but they were still like buzzing bees.

“Shhhhhhh.” They quieted some. “Let’s see how silent and still we can be.” They slowly sunk into the silence. Their bodies were still.

“So, these days before Christmas are called ADVENT. The season or the days of Advent are when we slowly and quietly”—I demonstrated—”slowly and quietly, slowly and quietly bend down like folded paper, like an accordion, so that when Christmas comes and Jesus is born we can jump so high and so happy. We can leap for joy.” And here I jumped up into the air. “Remember, when we tried to jump with our hands at our sides and without bending our knees? We couldn’t jump very high, could we?” The bobbleheads bobbled sideways—No.

“So when you go home tonight, I want you to tell your mom and dad, that Advent is before Christmas when we gather together and slowly and quietly bend down so that when Jesus is born can jump high for joy because of the present God gives us in Jesus. Okay?”

Okay,” they nodded.⊕

I invite you during these remaining days of Advent to slowly and quietly gather yourself like paper with an accordion fold so that we might jump for Joy when it comes time to sing, “HODIE, CHRISTUS NATUS EST.”

♦     ♦ Dan Miller, 2022. All Rights Reserved. ♦     ♦

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