What are your Christmas traditions? My family’s traditions started, as traditions do, before I was born. But they certainly shifted and changed by the time I became conscious of Santa’s reindeer bells sounding off in the woods. As a small child, I remember a mad rush to the window to see if for once we could spot the man himself as he landed on the roof of the house. Our parents made sure there was no fire in the fireplace so that we could speak as close to the chimney as possible to give a full accounting of our behavior and make one last plea for the gift we hoped would land under the tree. The strange logic of the whole event was irrelevant; my brothers and cousins absolutely believed in this sacred visitation year after year.
As we got older, the tradition shifted from Santa’s visit to dinner by candlelight. We would read the opening verses from Luke, chapter two, each of us taking one verse and then passing the Bible to the person next to us until we completed the first 20 verses. We would then stand, hold hands, and sing the Doxology. At the end of this preamble, we would finally sit down to a dinner that would inevitably be pretty lukewarm. Yet we were fueled by the convivial reality of siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins all at table together sharing in a kind of ritual that was the closest to liturgy as my religiously diverse family could get on Christmas.
As years past and my own family grew, the inevitable shift in this tradition occurred. My Jewish husband happily bought into the customary Bible reading and the singing of the doxology. Over the years, our table has included godparents and Christmas orphans who also have made this a part of their tradition. One year as I was particularly rushed to get everyone seated and to begin the reading so that dinner would not be too cold, we began the reading at verse twenty-two which begins, “After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.” It continues, “When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses…” at which point one godparent interjected, “Is this the passage we always read? It sounds a little different.” I also sensed something was a little off, but in the spirit of being often wrong but never in doubt, I insisted all was well and we forged on. And so, the great reading about Jesus’ circumcision was memorialized as one of the funniest Christmas eve digressions ever. Our table included some Jewish friends who were delighted by this part of the story.
Perhaps the Spirit was reminding all of us that on Christmas, on a very basic level,we are celebrating the birth of not only a Jewish baby, but a baby that belongs to every one of us. The incarnation of hope in the form of a baby goes far beyond religious boundaries. Our traditions are meant to gather us, they are not meant to strangle us with obligation. As our families grow, we all are faced with the challenge of letting go of certain rituals that may not have meaning in the context of a new reality. There can be a little bit of mourning in the memory of a tradition that is no longer operative, but I also believe that we are always evolving. We have come through the Winter solstice, our days are officially lengthening, and we are turning to a new year, holding on to one another whether it be a single friend or an extended family. Our traditions, both ancient and unfolding, are essentially pulling us towards a shared celebration of the hope, peace, joy, and love that the nativity of Christ embodies.
Happy New Year!
