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"FAMILY CHRISTMAS EVE
CANDLE LIGHTING SERVICE"

Reverend Scott Alexander, Reverend Ginger Luke,
Jan Taddeo, Youth Ministry Coordinator, Amanda Poppei, Ministerial Intern
River Road Unitarian Church
Christmas Eve 2006 5:00 PM

 

REFLECTIONS FOR CHRISTMAS EVE

"THE CLOTHING AUNT"
Jan Taddeo

As a small child, it seemed my WHOLE YEAR revolved around Christmas. This was NOT because it was the most holy of Christian holidays -- it was ALL ABOUT THE PRESENTS.

I can remember being five years old on Christmas morning, awake HOURS before my siblings and parents, sitting on the steps that separated me from the GLORY of the day.

I PRAYED they would wake up soon, because just on the other side of the stairwell wall was HEAVEN -- a room overflowing with brightly wrapped PACKAGES, SHINY bows, TWINKLING lights and a very special feeling of Christmas MAGIC.

ONLY when ALL were awake could we enter that room. ONLY THEN could we begin our Christmas ritual. And ONLY THEN would my HOURS, no ... MONTHS ... of anticipation be rewarded.

This was our ritual:

My oldest brother would play "Santa" by distributing the gifts to each person. We watched EAGERLY as each person opened a gift, and we were REWARDED with the SOUNDS of surprise and pleasure. YES!, AWWWW, or the occasional look that said, "What were you thinking?" This usually from my dad who received a collection of the CRAZIEST ties we could find.

What I learned as a child is that GIVING gifts is at least as much fun as RECEIVING them, if not more so. I learned to APPRECIATE the JOY of finding or creating gifts that would be well received or EVEN TREASURED.

The GIVING was so important in my family that one year when one of my brothers was about FOURTEEN, he was DETERMINED to have a gift for EACH of us, though he had no resources for buying or making gifts. In his DESPERATION in the days leading to Christmas he went about the house COLLECTING things that belonged to EACH OF US, then wrapped them up and gave them BACK to us. I'm sure we were all VERY PLEASED to get our stuff back! And at least he could be fairly confident that these were gifts we wanted and could use!

The gifts were just one part of the magic of Christmas. Decorations added to the spirit of the season. My siblings and I all remember fondly the delicate glass ornaments that we gently placed on the tree each year. Ornaments carry memories of and connections to people I love. The tree in our living room today holds ornaments from my childhood, and ornaments that my son made when he was younger. Some of the most significant ornaments on our tree are the ones my older sister made for us. For several years she cross-stitched, painted or molded ornaments for each of her siblings, each of us receiving an identical ornament. Now when I take these out of the storage boxes and place them on our tree, I feel a beautiful sense of connection with each of my siblings and their families.

The magic of Christmas giving is especially alive when there are young children in the family. Years ago my siblings and I chose to stop exchanging presents with each other, and to focus our giving on the children. We all strive to find gifts that will be extra special ... and perhaps we get a little competitive in this regard.

Last year was my grandnephew's first Christmas. As you can imagine, little Jacob was SHOWERED with gifts.

His parents had to open his gifts for him, and when they opened the present from my younger sister, she was rewarded with lots of "OOOOHS" and "AWWWWS" as they held up the ADORABLE denim outfit she gave him, complete with the CUTEST little hat!

Then they opened the present from me, a preschool musical toy with a tiny keyboard and buttons and knobs that made all kinds of musical sounds. Jacob dove for it and was COMPLETELY consumed with it. He kept giggling and laughing as he discovered new sounds.

If you've ever had a relative that always sent you socks or pajamas, you'll understand my sister's reaction. Seeing Jacob's excitement over the musical toy, she cried out, "OH NO! I'M THE CLOTHING AUNT!!" She vowed she would save her reputation. We'll see what she comes up with when we meet again tomorrow!

Gifts do not have to be exciting or expensive to be meaningful.

In lieu of exchanging Christmas presents, my siblings and I each contribute to a joint savings account. We are saving up for a week-long beach vacation. We've been making these contributions for eleven years. I am the one who maintains the account, and it gives me great joy to receive their donations. Their contributions say so much more than, "Here's 50 bucks." Their contributions say, "I am glad that we are still in right relationship. I am glad that we are going to spend a week together at the beach. I am glad that you are my sister." I am so grateful that the six of us want to be together.

I KNOW the ritual and tradition of GIVING that my parents cultivated when we were YOUNG continues to INSPIRE us TODAY. And, though the stories I've shared may seem to be about THINGS, each of my siblings has a GENEROUS SPIRIT. Each of us cultivates the magic of Christmas all year long in our generosity to each other and in our gratitude for family. That is the MAGIC I felt as a child, and that is the magic I still experience on Christmas morning.

 

"CHRISTMAS DAY DESTINATION: ROCHESTER"
Reverend Scott Alexander

It was Christmas morning, 1976. I was in my second year of ministry, flying from Boston back home to Wisconsin, after conducting Christmas Evening Services the night before at the First Church of Houlton, Maine, the little rural church I served as minister. Up late the night before (celebrating a wonderful Christmas Eve feast after our last service with friends from the congregation), I was tired as I flew, yet eager to arrive home in Milwaukee to see my extended family for our traditionally huge Christmas Day dinner of roasted turkey with all the trimmings. It was somewhere over Lake Michigan (as we began our initial descent into the Milwaukee airport) that my seatmate (a pleasant woman in her 40's) and I began talking about our Christmas Day plans (and why we were flying). She told me, "I'm on my way to be with dear old friends in Rochester, New York." As a cracker jack geography student, I was startled, and said to her, "Well that's strange, why did they route you through Milwaukee, we are already some 700 miles West of Rochester. Let me se your ticket." As soon as she showed me her air itinerary, I knew what the problem was: her travel agent had booked her to not to Rochester, New York, but to Rochester, Minnesota! As soon as I pointed out her problem, she was shocked and upset, of course, and worried out loud that she might not be able to get back to Rochester, New York, in time to celebrate the holiday with her friends. I told her, that as soon as we got off the plane, I would escort her to the Northwest Airlines ticket counter where she could hopefully get this mess straightened out, and hop the next plane back East.

Well, when we de-planed, there was my mother, Marcia, waiting for us at the gate (airport security not being in those innocent days what it is today), and as soon as I described the situation my seatmate was in, my mother (as was her inimitable nature) swung into action! As we walked hurriedly together down the concourse toward the ticket counters, my mother declared, "What a shame this all is; what could have that travel agent been thinking! We will wait for you at the ticket counter, and if you cannot get on a plane this afternoon back to Rochester, you are coming home with us, to spend Christmas, and we will get you back to the airport in the morning or whenever you can get the next flight. You are not spending Christmas day alone in some dreary, impersonal Milwaukee hotel!"

Now I must confess to you now, that when my mother said this, I was (at the time) not all that thrilled with her patient largess toward this stranger. For I knew that back at our wonderful family house in the woods (which was some 30 miles south of the Milwaukee airport), all my brothers (and their assorted spouses and children) and other beloved relatives were already enjoying one another's company. I had not seen my family for many months, and I really didn't want to wait around at the Northwest ticket counter on Christmas day to make sure that this woman I hardly knew was properly taken care of. Hopefully my impatience and displeasure did not manifest itself, because in short order, I realized that my mother had things SPIRITUALLY RIGHT that Christmas day. Luckily, and in just a matter of minutes, the ticket agent was able to book my seatmate on a plane back to Rochester that very afternoon, and at no cost to her I might add. Soon, assured that she would have Christmas Dinner in the embrace of people who cared for and loved her, we hugged her, wished her a Merry Christmas, and went on our way home ... where all my family was eagerly awaiting our arrival.

Now, I tell you this true story not so much to confess my Christmas impatience and selfishness (spiritually small and unnecessary as they were). I tell this story to remind all of us the Christmas truth that my mother taught me so powerfully that day. It is a holiday lesson I have never forgotten (and I suspect the woman who was routed to the wrong Rochester has never forgotten it either). Christmas is a holiday of the human heart. It is a holiday of opening ourselves to the needs and feelings of others ... and of extending ourselves so that others may be assured of their value and worth. My mother had the true spirit of Christmas with her that day when she came to the airport to pick me up. She had her spiritual priorities right. My mother is long gone now, bless her heart, but by way of this true story, she reminds us all that Christmas is a hearth to which all must be invited to warm themselves, and be blessed.

Amen.

 

PRAYER FOR CHRISTMAS EVE 2006
Amanda Poppei

My friends, will you join me in prayer on this Christmas Eve?

Spirit of Life, spirit of love that runs through us and among us and beyond us, we lift our hearts this evening. We lift our hearts in thanksgiving for the family and friends who surround us tonight, who hold our hands and help us with our coats and sit across the table at dinnertime. We lift our hearts in love for the family and friends who are not with us tonight, who are across the country or the world but who are thinking of us tonight. We lift our hearts in remembrance of the family and friends who used to share our Christmases, who used to take our hands, who were our teachers and our guides.

Spirit of Life, we lift our hearts tonight in solidarity with all those who do not have enough to eat, who will go to bed hungry or homeless on this night, this night when we tell the story of a family who found no room at the inn. We lift our hearts in sadness that the world still closes its doors, still says there is no room. We lift our hearts in hope that someday, it will not be so.

 

"HOW DO PEOPLE DO CHRISTMAS?"
Reverend Ginger Luke

My daughter Katherine was a senior in college and had recently rented a house with several friends. I was in my third year at River Road Unitarian Church. My phone rang and Katherine was sobbing on the other end of the line.

"How do people do Christmas? The semester ends in one week. I have four tests and three papers left to turn in. And (sob, sob, sob), Grandmother just sent me this box of the most beautiful Christmas tree ornaments, and I don't have a Christmas tree. There is no way I have time to go pick out a Christmas tree, find a stand and figure out how to put it in the stand and get lights, put them on and then decorate it. And besides a very close friend just returned to town and needs me to go to dinner right now. How do people do Christmas? There is no time, now way. How do people do Christmas?

"And forget the idea of cookies. I don't even have time to buy them, let alone cook them. How do people do Christmas?

(Sob, sob, sob.) "I have to go to dinner right now and I'll be up all night with school work. How do people do Christmas?"

"Honey, just hang in for a week and we can 'do Christmas' when you get here. I'll have a tree and cookies too. It is only a week. Just hang in there, one test and one paper at a time. I love you."

(Sob, sob.) "Bye, Mother, I love you too. But how do people do Christmas?" And she hung up.

I called my friend, the religious educator at the Unity Church Unitarian in St. Paul, Minnesota-- just a few blocks from Katherine's house and I said, "This is a crazy request, but would you and your son be willing to buy a Christmas tree right now, put it in a stand and deliver it to my daughter on Selby Avenue?"

"That is just a few blocks away from me, and Ben and I were on our way out. We will try."

A couple of hours later the phone rang, "How did you do it? I got home from dinner and there was a woman with a Christmas tree in a stand asking, 'Are you Katherine?' When I said yes, she handed me the Christmas tree saying, 'MERRY CHRISTMAS.' How did you do it?"

"Unitarian friends are good to have, and we know how to make Christmas. I love you, honey. See you soon."

 

"CAN YOU HEAR CHRISTMAS"
Amanda Poppei

We didn't go to church on Christmas Eve when I was little, and we didn't read the Bible's Christmas story at home. Some of that came later for me, and those things do make me feel as though Christmas is really here. But there's another story, from another book, that makes me feel like Christmas, too. It's the story that my mother did read to me every Christmas. I have it here, and I want to share it with you today -- not the whole story, but what it feels like to me.

This is A Pussycat's Christmas, by Margaret Wise Brown of Goodnight Moon fame. One of the wonderful things about Margaret Wise Brown is that she uses words so well that you can really feel what she talks about; you can feel it and taste it and smell it and see it. And especially in this book, you can hear it.

What does Christmas sound like? In this book it is Pussycat who is hearing Christmas, and you know cats have a very good sense of hearing. Have you ever seen your cat prick up its ears and stare intently at the door? Aren't you sure someone must be coming up the walk?

So we know that Pussycat must really be able to hear Christmas. This is what she hears, in Margaret Wise Brown's words. She hears "the crackle and slip of white tissue paper. And red tissue paper." Can you hear it? "Tissue paper rustled, nuts cracked, scissors cut." It is snowing in this book, so Pussycat hears the snowflakes. "Sshshhhhhhhsss." "For when everything is quiet, you can hear things far away. From the sky with a sound like steady whispering came the snow -- that sound of snow -- snow that has never been on this earth before." And then Pussycat hears something else. "Ding, ding, ding, ding, jingle, jingle, jingle, ding. What was it? She heard it going by in the white, falling snow. She saw it! She saw the sleigh go jingling by."

Pussycat hears a fire crackling, and "Snip, snip. Snip, snip. Scissors were cutting string. Then there was a tiny tinkly little pop, as something fell from the Christmas tree and shivered into a million splinters of light." Then "Bang, bang, bang. What was that? Someone was hanging the Christmas stockings. Hammering nails to hang the Christmas stockings." Then everyone goes off to church ... just like all of you did this evening ... and then Pussycat hears the most special sound of all, I think. "Suddenly and quietly far off in the night Pussycat could hear ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong.... Then softly at first but distinct in the night she heard people walking from window to window -- the dark carolers on the white snow. Through the still air their voices came to her listening ears -- in the silence of the moonlight -- in the silence of the night -- in the silence of the bright stars high in the sky - "'Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright.'"

Pussycat heard people singing that ancient carol, the carol that we will sing a little later this evening. She heard what Christmas is: the snipping of scissors through tissue paper, the banging of nails to hang stockings, the ding dong of church bells all across the city, and most of all, the voices of people who have come together to share candles and song. Just as we are doing tonight.

I wonder if you all hear the same sounds of Christmas that Pussycat does in this book. Maybe you hear the bellow of your favorite uncle's laughter, or the clinking of glasses raised in a toast. I hear my mother's voice, reading this book to me, and then telling me that the sooner I go to sleep, the sooner Santa will come. I hear voices and shuffling and car doors slamming, as we walk up to church. And I hear the silence, the holy silence, as we stand with candles lit.

As you leave the church tonight, or when you get back home, pause for just a minute before you get back to the hustle and bustle of presents and bedtime and laughing. Pause for just a minute, close your eyes, and breathe in. Can you hear Christmas?

I invite you now to rise in body or in spirit to join in singing "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear," as we sing and listen for Christmas.

And finally, we lift our hearts in wonder, wonder at the beauty of the night, at the love we find here, wonder at the passing of another year, at the rising of another Christmas Eve moon. As we leave this place, spirit of life and love, let us feel you all around us, tying us closer to each other and to the whole of the human family. And let us know ... this is Christmas.

Amen.

 

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