December 24, 1999
Merry Christmas to All...
Christmas Eve, 1999. I'm at my parents' house, writing this on my mom's computer. Until tonight, I was decidedly down on this whole Christmas thing, as evidenced by last week. I wish I could have written this an hour ago, because the feeling I had then is fading slightly, the words in my mind not quite as clear.
I went to church tonight.
I grew up in a church that didn't celebrate Christmas. That's odd to a lot of people, and to me too, now that I've grown up to think about it. Here's the logic: "Well, we don't know exactly what day Jesus was born on, so it would be wrong to celebrate the wrong day." Never mind that this is a time that practically the entire world focuses on Christianity.
But I digress.
Down the street from my parents' house is a Methodist church. Small, picturesque, right on the lake. They had a Christmas Eve service tonight, and despite the fact that neither my mom nor I are or ever have been Methodist, we went. My stepfather seemed vaguely amused at the whole thing. He was raised Methodist, but wasn't interested in tagging along.
When we got there, they handed us each a program and a candle. I was so nervous sitting there, waiting for the service to start. I don't know why I was nervous, but I was. It's been years since I went to church, and I know it was for mom, too. Raised in the Church of Christ, seeing a church decorated for Christmas is still odd for me.
I was happy to see that the program was essentially going to be carol singing and the reading of the Christmas story. I wanted so much to be able to sing Christmas carols with a group. Honestly, that was my main reason for wanting to go to church. Silent Night was going to be sung by candlelight, and I was pretty sure I would start crying. That sort of thing usually has that effect on me.
It's odd how things come back, sensory memory triggers: sitting in a pew, holding a hymnal and standing to sing, the warm, almost drowsy feeling of a winter congregation listening to a sermon (there was one, it was small).
I felt so much. I could feel it in my heart, but I don't know what I was feeling. I felt... connected. Not just to the people around me, but to the whole human race. It made me realize how isolated I have become to the world around me. My daily life includes, as a general rule, people from the age of about 22-52. Sitting in that church, I saw families. Babies, teenagers, kids, old people... and I realized how long it had been since I'd seen such a broad spectrum of people.
And I sang. I sang harder than I've sung in a long time. And my mom sang next to me. She's the one who really first taught me to sing, and she's the one I grew up singing next to in church. I missed singing in a group of people.
It's hard to say if what I felt was simply overblown nostalgia, or if I really and truly did have a spiritual experience. The former is easier to believe. Less frightening. Having to face that I was wrong to walk away from Christianity and that 'they' were right all along is troublesome. There are many areas where I do part company with traditional Christian belief.
All I know is that I felt that connection, that sense of ritual tonight. I completely understand now why religion is such an important thing. Beyond beliefs or faith, it's almost worth it to find somewhere to go, just to feel that bond with another group of humans.
I don't know. I'm still piecing this out. But I feel much better about Christmas now. I feel like it is really and truly a holiday this year.
Oh, and it turns out I didn't cry during Silent Night. I watched my candle flame and wondered what I believed about it all.
Merry Christmas.
Posted by Lisa at December 24, 1999 10:55 PM
