Let There Be Light
Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa are all holidays
that emphasize lights. Houses are outlined
in thousands of colored lights, we bring trees into our houses and string lights
all over them. The main symbol of Hanukkah
is the menorah, a candelabra of nine candles.
The main symbol of Kwanzaa is the Kanora, a candelabra of seven candles. Festivals, throughout the world, at
this time of year, feature fire and light as significant elements in their celebration.
This is no accident, for the celebration of the
winter solstice is the derivation of all of these holidays.
It marks the time of year when the light of the sun is available for the
least amount of time. In the days before
electricity (just a little over a century ago) we only had lanterns and candles
to light the way. In the dawn of our
species, before the taming of fire early human beings had nothing to protect them
from the fear and dread that the blackness of night brought.
The winter solstice holidays represent the victory
of human culture over that sense of depression that the long nights of blackness
brought. So we use any excuse to celebrate
- any kind of triumph from a good harvest to a victory in battle to the birth of
a savior. For what we are really celebrating
is the return of the life giving light of the sun.
During the holiday season the world pauses. Our hope for peace is renewed.
Compassion and Love rules.
The holiday season is the season of the greatest joy when everything goes right,
when everything works out according to plan, when our reality matches our desires,
when the holiday season fills its promise of warmth and light.
The freedom from oppression and hunger and the hope of a brighter future
are all symbolized by the holiday lights.
Growing up in a Jewish home we ignored (or tried
to ignore) Christmas. We consoled ourselves
by celebrating Hanukkah. Hanukkah is
the Jewish holiday that, since it occurs at approximately the same time as Christmas,
has become for many, the Jewish Christmas.
Those of you who had the opportunity to see the play “The Last Day of Ballyhoo”
in the last month saw the struggle that many Jewish families have with the need
to celebrate with the lights and beauty of a Christmas tree and still maintain their
Jewish identity. Interestingly, Christmas,
itself, was a very minor Christian holiday in
Roman
times. The big feast and celebration
was Saturnalia, the
Roman
celebration of the winter solstice. Christmas was elevated when it became the
Christian Saturnalia
. The celebration of Saturnalia was,
like the celebrations of Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, a celebration of light. The Roman celebration of Saturnalia
became commingled with the Germanic and Scandinavian celebrations of Yuletide and
in the late middle ages often degenerated into a period of debauchery and license. This was then transferred to the
celebration of Christmas.
So repelled were the Puritans that they refused to celebrate the holiday at all. When the Congregationalist and Unitarian
descendants of the Puritans became less pure they helped create the traditions of
Christmas that we celebrate today. The Unitarian,
Charles Dickens
, in the mid nineteenth century, created Scrooge in his novel “A Christmas Carole”. Unitarian
minister,
Edmund Sears
wrote the Christmas
carole
“It Came Upon the
Midnight
Clear”. The poem “Rudolph
the Red Nose Reindeer” and the words
to “I Heard The Bells on Christmas
Day” and “Jingle Bells” were written by Unitarians.
A Unitarian Minster,
Charles Follen
, brought and promoted the German tradition of a Christmas Tree to
America
during the Civil War.
I always envied my friends who had not only
Christmas presents but also Santa Claus and Reindeer, Christmas trees and houses
decorated with lights. While my friends
were trying out their new sleds or bicycles and lived in homes cheerfully sparkling
with multicolored lights, my own remained dull and drab. Yet, Hanukkah means presents
to Jewish children just as Christmas means presents to Christian children.
Many years I received just what I wanted and many years I did not.
My father always made something special of Hanukkah breakfast
by putting out Lox and Bagel. In the
evening we lit the menorah, we sang about a dradle and celebrated heartily. But I still wished that I could celebrate
Christmas.
While I never longed to be a Christian I did
long to be able to celebrate Christmas.
When I married a woman from a Christian
background I finally had the opportunity to be part of and help create a “real”
Christmas. The first few years of our
marriage we were only able to take Christmas Day off but when my son was about four
or five years old, I finally had the chance
to celebrate a “real” Christmas.
We traveled to
New York
to spend Christmas with my first wife’s parents and her brothers and their wives
and children in the beautiful large English Tudor family home with a brick fireplace
as the focal point prominently situated in the living room.
It had an old fashioned mantle from which we hung our stockings; each with
a family member’s name safety pinned on it.
The entire gaggle ventured out on Christmas
Eve day to chop down a tree from the “choose your own” Christmas tree farm. In the air snow flakes were already
swirling around in anticipation of the six to eight inches of snow expected on Christmas
Day.
We spent hours lovingly decorating the house
with greens and lights and candles.
My wife and mother-in-law (with a little help from me and the children) busied ourselves
in the kitchen baking many more Christmas cookies and pies than it was possible
for us to eat. I made a Gingerbread
House and cookies with stain glass lifesaver windows. That evening we all gathered
in the living room with a flickering fire in the fireplace and read
“The Night Before Christmas” to the children.
On Christmas morning we all waited at the
top of the stairs until everyone was up and ready so that we could descend together
to view the tree that Santa Claus, himself, had decorated and under which he had
placed gifts for all. The reindeer,
sure enough had eaten the carrot and Santa left some crumbs on the plate where we
had placed the cookies the night before.
My mother-in-law said that she was a bit miffed at Santa for leaving some ash footprints
on the carpet.
The children were mesmerized by the wonder
of it and eagerly ripped open the presents with their names on them.
Christmas breakfast consisted of waffles cooked on the waffle iron heated
in the fireplace, drenched with real maple syrup that was a present from a
New Hampshire
aunt and uncle. The morning gave way
to an afternoon that welcomed guest after guest to the annual open house.
It was perfect . . . just like
all the songs describe. I took Super 8 movies of everything!
Sugar plumbs danced in our heads and we could almost hear the click-clacking
of reindeer hooves on the roof.
That Christmas was an attempt by all of us to create a celebration that would be
like it is “supposed” to be. It was
a perfect Christmas. Not every Christmas
can be like that, of course. In fact,
no other Christmas in my life has ever been like that.
Life isn’t like that. If we
wished to do the same thing today, it would be impossible.
I am no longer married to the same woman.
My son is now 36 years old, married but with no children of his own. My former father-in-law has died and
my former mother-in-law now lives in a nursing home.
The beautiful English Tudor house that was the backdrop for that Christmas
is now a rental. Illness, divorce and
death over the last thirty years has meant that each and every one of us has had
to find other ways to celebrate Christmas.
Christmas happens every year whether we are
ready to celebrate or not. We do have
choices about how we celebrate, however.
Like the Christmas just after I separated from my first wife.
She and my son traveled to
New York
to that perfect Christmas environment.
In contrast, I conducted the Christmas Eve service at the church and then went home
to an empty apartment.
But, because a few weeks before it had occurred
to me that I could spend the week between Christmas and New Years at the Unitarian
Universalist Southern Winter Institute in Miami (SWIM), on Christmas Day I flew
to Miami. I had a wonderful time. The temperature was 72 degrees day and
night. I attended workshops and went
on day trips with UUs from all over, who, it turned out were just as eager to pretend
that it wasn’t the week between Christmas and New Years as I was.
The only time the holiday season was recognized was when we had a (more or
less) costumed New Years Eve party.
For seven days there had been no red and green, no Santa Claus, no “Merry Christmas”. In spite of the fact that this was the
year without Christmas, I had a wonderful time.
In my first year in
Baltimore
as minister of a small congregation, it was decided that, rather than having our
own Christmas Eve service, we would all caravan to the large UU church with the
Tiffany
stained glass window downtown. My Lutheran
in-laws were with
Louise
and me as we arrived at the parking lot from which we were to car pool.
We were supposed to assemble at
7:15 pm
for the 8:00 service. By 7:35 I realized
that no one else was going to show up and that if we didn’t leave we would miss
the service, so we headed downtown as a caravan of one.
About halfway there we changed our minds and
decided that we would rather attend a service closer to our home.
When we arrived at the nearby church at about 8:30 the service was over and
people were leaving the parking lot.
We were very disappointed but, to at least salvage something from the evening, we
looked for a restaurant where we could eat Christmas Eve dinner. Of course, being
Christmas Eve, every restaurant that we drove past was already closed.
We ended up at Hofberg’s Jewish Deli.
As my Lutheran mother-in-law lifted her spoon of Matzo Ball soup she couldn’t help
but exclaim that this was not exactly the way she had pictured spending Christmas
Eve (She was not a real fan of Jewish cooking).
The Christmas songs of
Bing Crosby
and Burl Ives bring with them expectations that are often hard or even impossible
to live up to. Because we place such
towering expectations on these days, because they have the capacity for such joy,
they also can present the most devastating of let downs.
We have all experienced
disappointments and let downs and we need to be aware that others around us may
be going through that now. I was young
and inexperienced in life when I first entered the ministry.
I knew of my own disappointments and short comings and family difficulties
but as I looked out upon the world of friends and school and work I saw only healthy
happy people who “had their act together”.
I did not see their struggles and did not understand the bravery and fortitude that
many brought to their daily lives.
People were divided into two categories for me, those I liked and wished to be friends
with, and those whom I would rather avoid.
It never occurred to me that there were stories
and circumstances behind the smiling or frowning faces that might be quite a bit
more powerful than anything that I had experienced.
It was only once I became a minister and found myself welcomed into the lives
of people in grief, depression or other difficulties that I discovered a different
reality.
We can’t all be expected to be therapists and
we shouldn’t expect ourselves to react in ways that are super human.
Yet we can and should be sensitive to the difficulties that others live with. This holiday season, a season of great
joy and love may be the very time when those who have experienced depression, perhaps
arising from a recent death in the family or a financial set back or a work related
difficulty, or are affected by Seasonal Affective Disorder or clinical depression
most need our understanding. We cannot
“fix” others like broken toys but we can try to be just a little more compassionate
and caring in this season of compassion and caring.
There are some people who cannot spend the holiday
season with their families because they are serving their country overseas, or are
incarcerated, or are too ill or, maybe, are required to work over the holidays. We need to think about them, also, and
reach out to them in any way that we can this holiday season.
The older I get and the more people that I
talk with the more I realize that the smiles and frowns, sarcasms and criticisms,
as well as the comforting and tender words that come to the surface all have a story,
a history behind them. None of us gets
off Scot free.
For anyone who is struggling, hearing the
familiar stories, singing familiar carols, participating in religious rituals and
being together in community can bring comfort. It can be a time of reconnecting
with each other. We need to make a special effort to invite them to be part of our
special holiday festivities. We will
have two special worship services this Christmas.
On the Sunday before Christmas the choir and a group of play readers will
perform an original play reading about the struggles of
Joseph
on Christmas, and on Christmas Eve we will have a Community Christmas Carol Sing-a-long. Invite someone to join you at one or
both services. You may be giving a
Christmas gift that you don’t even suspect.
The holidays provide us with an opportunity to reach out and give to others the
gift that we all possess and can all give freely, the gift of light.