When you were very young, when did Christmas really begin for you?
Was it when you heard the first carol of the season? Or was it when the last relative or friend came bustling in from the cold complaining about the heavy traffic and the raw weather and joined the group gathered close to the fire or around the table so loaded with food that its loud collapse seemed not only inevitable, but even imminent?
Was it when you went shopping for the first present, or when you finally found the gift for the most important person on your list?
Was it when you stepped back to admire the green and shimmering tree, radiant with its lights and ornaments – each one with a story to tell?
Or was it when you heard those familiar words from the Gospel of Luke: “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.”? (Luke 1:8)
When you were very young . . . When we were very young . . .
The words have almost as much magic in them as “once upon a time,” for we were all young “once upon a time,” . . . and we are, each one of us, living in . . . and living with . . . and living out a story.
And when we were very young, our story seemed to be a never-ending story.
I
When I was very young, Christmas had many beginnings.
And if you will indulge me, I would like to share a few of those “beginnings” with you.
Now when I was very, very young, Christmas first began on December 23rd, my father’s birthday, when every year on that day we traveled from our house to my grandparents’ house to celebrate.
The journey is forever engrained in my memory:
driving down Silas Creek Parkway toward Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, turning left onto Campus Drive, and then right onto Polo Road – sort of like “over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go;”
looking and feasting on the Christmas lights and decorations all along the way;
and talking . . . my brother and me talking . . . about all that we hoped Santa Claus would bring.
It’s amazing how that short drive of just 10 minutes to me as a child seemed almost like an eternity. Yet for some reason my memories of that drive are as clear today as if it had happened just yesterday.
I remember driving into the driveway of my grandparents’ house and seeing every year the same old plastic window candles with their usual red lights shining brightly, and the den ablaze with warmth from a fire crackling in the fireplace.
And the Christmas tree in the living room – the mostbeautiful Christmas tree of all – because underneath it was a village of little houses Granddaddy had made himself,complete with a fenced in area for animals, Santa in a sleigh atop one of the roofs, and even a little “out house” with a half moon cut into its side wall.
The one thing Granddaddy had not made in the village was an illuminated church which I loved to wind up and listen to as it played the melody of “Silent Night.”
And all through the house was the aroma of food prepared to perfection and the smell of Apple and Lemon cake – a Moravian specialty of my Grandmommy’s – which was my Dad’s birthday cake. Grandmommy always made two – one for us to cut and to eat that night, and a second one for Dad to take home and enjoy later.
I haven’t been able to make that journey for many years now.
But when I was very, very young, Christmas began on December 23rd with a journey to my grandparent’s house for my father’s birthday.
II
When I was older, but still rather young – 18 to be exact – Christmas had another beginning.
Upon entering R. J. Reynolds High School in Winston-Salem . . . (“Show them who we ‘ARA’; we’re ‘ARA’ ‘J’ ‘ARA’!!!”) I had joined the Key Club. And every year at Christmas, the Key Club, along with our sister club, the Girls Council, planned and organized and provided the entertainment for the Annual Christmas Party for the local Winston-Salem Boys and Girls Club. Children ages 6 to 12 from very deserving backgrounds and families were invited and treated to a night of fun, food, and Christmas Spirit. And the high-mark of the party was the entertainment we provided.
I remember Mark Goslen and Derrick Surratt in particular – two guys in the Key Club who could play their hands and throats and crack their knuckles to a beat that made the kids go wild. And then, usually a football player in our club would dress up as Santa Claus. And much like many churches and communities still do to this day with their Angel Tree or special Christmas Stocking Funds, we took money we had raised as a club and bought gifts for every child who came. And the thing that was so great about that Boys and Girls Club Christmas Party was that the children did not know we were the ones who bought them the gifts.
You know, that Christmas Party taught me something I have never forgotten: If our celebration of Christmas does not compel us to give to others, then, I must tell you, we are not celebrating Christmas at all!
And that experience as a teenager taught me something else extremely valuable: That it is, in my opinion, critically important that we always become involved in organizations that have as their guiding principle and purpose, the importance of serving others and doing for those less fortunate than ourselves – organizations like the Church and civic clubs who search for ways to give . . . and not just for ways to take and to receive.
III
But as I grew older and became less preoccupied with family traditions – of going to the tree the night before and picking out one present to open before Christmas Day; as I grew older and realized that there was much more to Christmas than simply giving and receiving of gifts, then Christmas had another beginning for me, and this time it was at Church late in the evening on Christmas Eve.
My grandmother was a member of First Baptist Church in Winston-Salem for as long as I could remember. She died 8 years ago this past May, but she was one of those faithful yet quiet saints without whose dedication and prayers the Church could not survive. She never complained about anything, and rare was the Sunday when she was not in Sunday School and Worship.
Now it is a tradition at First Baptist Church, (at least it used to be) to celebrate The Lord’s Supper at 11 o’clock at night on Christmas Eve so that when Christmas Day arrives at midnight, the first minutes of that holy day are experienced as a community of believers gathered around The Lord’s Table.
One year my Grandmother was asked to help the deacons serve Communion on Christmas Eve, and everyone in our family moved heaven and earth to be there. You see, Grandmother had never been elected a deacon, although I imagine she was asked many times to allow her name to be considered. She didn’t feel that was what God wanted her to do. Instead, she would rather spend her time visiting the homebound, the nursing homes, and delivering food to the families of those who had lost loved ones. I can’t count the quarts and quarts of green beans (“half runners” I think she called them) . . . that Grandmother canned every summer precisely for this one purpose.
But on this particular Christmas Eve she had agreed to serve Communion, so all of us in her family were there to see her do it . . . and in so doing to experience the love of Christ through her service.
And born out of that experience is perhaps the most exciting thing for me as a minister - to be able to stand behind the Communion Table on Christmas Eve “following in the footsteps of my Grandmother” and to serve The Lord’s Supper – a visible sign of God’s invisible grace.
How is it that the Gospel of John puts it? “And the word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. We have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father.” (John 1:14)
I think that was the year that Christmas really began for me.
And so, when does Christmas really begin for you? Does it begin with the day after Thanksgiving – the biggest shopping day of the year? Does it begin with the first Sunday of Advent and the lighting of the first Advent candle? Does it begin with particular services of worship at church or with the repetition of time-honored family rituals and traditions?
Or has Christmas not yet begun for you, for whatever reason? Well, I would suggest to you that this year, this day, this very hour can be the moment when Christmas really begins, because it is the only Christmas that we have . . . and it is the only Christmas that we really need . . . as long as it conveys the message of faith in its purest and yet most simple form:
“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace and good will to all people.”
Merry Christmas to you all!
