Leaning Into the Christmas Season

I miss Christmas. And church too. I realized this yesterday when I Googled images of Advent wreathes for the seminary's Advent service bulletin I was asked to design. As soon as I saw photos of Advent candles, with twinkling lights and religious icons in the darkened backgrounds, I had a very distinct and comforting memory of sitting in a pew at Resurrection Lutheran Church, quietly waiting with anticipation as someone from the congregation lit the first Advent candle with a long-stemmed, brass lighter, thin curls of gray smoke spiraling up, up toward the high ceiling. It seemed like the whole congregation held their breath until the candle actually lit--and stayed lit. An advent hymn played softly on the organ and our pastor read a scripture in his deep voice. I remember thinking, "Just four weeks until Christmas!"  It was a quiet calm before the most exciting day of the year, one that would be filled with cookies and candy, gifts and torn wrapping paper, bright-colored Christmas lights and loud carols, family all laughing and talking over each other.

Each Sunday of Advent was like that, anticipation growing stronger as Christmas was another week closer. Christmas Eve was the most special, the most exciting--yet comforting--most magical service, when the larger, white center candle was finally lit.  The Christmas Eve candlelight service, when children wore angels' gowns and halos, with the scent of burning wax filling our heads, flickering flames reflected in the huge stained glass window, a duet of organ and piano music keeping tempo as the congregation sang the first verse and chorus of the most familiar Christmas hymns. I followed the bulletin closely to see how close we were to finishing, because as soon as the service was over we would hurry home to open a few family presents, before going to bed and lying wide awake, wondering what we would find under the Christmas tree the next morning.

Today I'm obsessing about those Advent wreathes and candles, the smell of evergreen, candle wax, and smoke, when the flaming wicks were put out with that bell-shaped candle snuffer at the end of the service. I don't know if I knew back then the significance of the Advent wreath and candles. If I did, I have forgotten. But yesterday, when the images of those candles ignited my longing for both Christmas and church, I Googled the meaning:

From Wikipedia:

"Advent wreaths are circular, representing God's infinite love and are usually made of evergreen leaves, which "represent the hope of eternal life brought by Jesus Christ". Within the Advent wreath are candles that generally represent the four weeks of the Advent season as well as "the light of God coming into the world through the birth of Jesus Christ" although each of the candles has its own significance as well; individually, the candles specifically symbolize the Christian concepts of hope (week one), peace (week two), joy (week three) and love (week four) in many traditions. Many Advent wreaths also have a white candle in the centre to symbolize the arrival of Christmastide, sometimes known as the "Christ candle." It is lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day."

After reading this I was reminded of why I don't like Christmas anymore. The holiday has morphed into something so big, so ugly, so busy, so hectic, so removed from Advent and what the Advent wreath and candles symbolize.

The season has become a two-month long hectic marathon, completely overrun with big sales, shopping trips, present wrapping, work parties, home decorating, and school programs. Parents have become completely stressed out thinking they have to buy everything on their kids' lists for Santa.  It's become rush, rush, rush, buy, buy, buy, followed by the fear of disappointing the ones we love.

Maybe it was that way back then. Maybe my parents were doing all that running and stressing, spending two months trying to create a perfect Christmas for us girls.  But I doubt it. I think the countdown to Christmas started closer to December 1st, the week the first advent candle, the candle of hope, was lit.

I miss the Christmas I used to know, a calmer, shorter, holiday season filled with candle flames, evergreen boughs, and "Silent Night" sung on a dark, snowy night, with time to rest and focus on what really matters. I'm thinking I can have that kind of Christmas again, and I can share it with others who miss it too. All we need to do is "lean into the Light" a bit, take some time away from the hustle and bustle, find a space where we can focus on the concept of hope, peace, joy and love, and guard ourselves from getting too caught up in the frenzied, commercial Christmas hype. Even if you  decide to "do it all" or "do it big", because you enjoy that and love the Christmas hoopla, I hope you chose to take a few moments to sit in a quiet place, light a candle, and meditate on the true meaning of the season.