It is now 2012, and even the local convenience store has already started stocking and promoting its Easter candy. I wonder what happened to Valentine’s Day? More importantly, we just entered the season of Epiphany. So, it seems natural for me to reflect on my meanderings, both mental and physical, over the Advent and Christmas seasons.
Being well aware of my own musical and other expectations for the Advent and Christmas services, I had the unique pleasure to coordinate the field education experiences of the aspirants (i.e., the priests and deacons in training) in our mutual ministry formation program. By and large, the aspirants came to their field experiences with limited exposure to the holiday traditions of churches other than their own. This differs from my own experience as a frequent mover and even a denominational changer, as I am also married to a Roman Catholic. Or at least I thought that I was more “enlightened!”
Over the past six weeks, I kept hearing the words “unique” and “unusual” as the aspirants would share their experiences with me. These words seemed odd to me as they shared more about what they found unique or unusual. And as I reviewed the bulletins for the two parishes for which I will be vicar in 2012, I learned that the roots of traditions and expectations run deep.
You don’t mess with the specifics of the Christmas Eve service. Churches sing the exact same songs each year, and the children participate in the services as their parents and grandparents did before, with every expectation that the children will assume the same (or possibly more “important”) roles each year. I totally understand. Although I was far from the tall blonde-haired beauty selected to be Mary, I welcomed my graduation from angel to shepherd and finally (yes!) to magi. I had arrived! These comments brought me back to the realities of these seasonal services and their accompanying traditions and expectations.
Having had the rare opportunity to attend a Christmas Eve service myself, I found myself anxiously waiting to sing “In the bleak midwinter”—a song that my small choir-less churches would struggle to sing. And I chuckled at discovering my joy in kneeling near the end of the service, clutching candles as we sang “Silent Night”—a song that I expect to sing in the dim light of candles, kneeling at the close of the Christmas Eve Eucharist. But I also discovered my disappointment in not singing the song most appropriate only for Christmas Day and Christmas Eve services—“Go tell it on the mountain.”
Perhaps I have expectations myself, despite my meanderings through multiple dioceses, churches and now the region. I learned a lesson—honor these traditions and expectations, for they really matter!
Theresa
