Somehow it’s hard to believe today is Christmas Eve. Sure, all of the presents have been wrapped and delivered to doorsteps around the city. The baking is done, the stockings are hung and carols are playing on Pandora. Still, there’s a quiet sadness that permeates the season for all of us. Nearly everyone I know is missing someone they’ve lost this year, either through Covid or disease or estrangement. Some are missing their grandchildren. All are missing the human touch of loved ones near and far.
Yet even in the midst of grief, Christmas always comes…no matter the state of our world, our nation, our hearts and minds. And like the great conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn on the winter solstice, the holiday season shines through the darkness and lights the way through this unprecedented time in our lives.
When I was seven, I performed in a children’s choir at Zion Methodist Church. Matthew Swora was our enthusiastic, charismatic director who led us in song on Sunday mornings. Woe the child who misbehaved during rehearsals, for the punishment was a seat directly beneath his podium. “And my nose runs,” he said with a mischievous grin. “So don’t blame me if you go home with a wet head.”
In the fall of 1973, Mr.
Swora pulled out Christmas sheet music, just in time for
Halloween. “This one is going to sound familiar,” he smiled, nodding
to the pianist who gently plodded out the chords for Silent Night. “But
I’m going to teach it to you in German...and if we do it right, we’ll make your
mothers cry on Christmas Eve.”
I remember wondering why we
would want to make our mothers sad on the most special night of the year, but
didn’t question Mr. Swora for fear of having to take my place in front of the
choir – and right beneath his dripping nose.
Mr. Swora meticulously
taught us the song line-by-line to make sure we understood the lyrics and to
polish our diction so every syllable was pronounced with a perfect German
accent. Every week he would remind us that our Christmas Eve
performance was much anticipated by the whole church, but all I could picture
in my mind was a bunch of sobbing women, dabbing their eyes with tissues.
By mid-December, we were
ready to practice on the altar. Being one of the youngest, I stood
in front and sang my heart out to the empty pews. “That’s just
wonderful!” Mr. Swora beamed after we sang it twice for good measure. “You
will be the hit of the Christmas Eve service.”
On the night of our final
performance, Mr. Swora silently invited the children’s choir to the altar, then
gave us wink and a smile. The sanctuary was dark, except for candles
lit behind us and in the hands of the congregation as they sat in quiet
anticipation. Tapping his baton on the podium, Mr. Swora nodded to
the pianist who softly played the introduction. I looked at the
people staring at us, their eyes shining in the candlelight, and waited for the
waterworks to begin.
Sure enough, by the last
strains of “Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh” I saw many adults wiping away
tears. But they were smiling, too, and that didn’t make any
sense. How could you be both happy and sad at the same
time? It would take years before I could understand that tears
represent a host of emotions…and that Christmastime often stirs us all to
experience more than we bargain for.
This year especially.
Christmas Eve holds a magic
all of its own. For me it’s a time of quiet reflection and relaxation
after all the holiday work has been done. Every year I spend this
evening in meditation, in silence, in stillness…in anticipation of the light
yet to come.
This season, my mind often
wanders to that Christmas Eve long ago, when I stood in wonder at the power of
children’s voices singing so beautifully in another language that it moved our
mothers to tears. The tears we shed this year are more than
sentimental. At best they’re bittersweet, but I imagine the
collective grief we feel for our world leaves us feeling as though we have to
learn a new language in order to understand it all. And for many,
there are no words to describe our sorrow.
In the silence of this
night, may you and your family and circle of friends be surrounded by
peace. May you know you are loved and held close in my
thoughts. May we all awaken from this darkness and create new
light.
May you all be blessed.
