Growing up in a Southern Baptist Church in the South can lead to any number of odd effects:
- You automatically (even subconsciously) know at least a little bit of Spanish (not because of exposure to other cultures, but because the song "Via Dolorosa" was sung many times over in the services by women of various talent levels. Thanks for the memories, Sandi Patti.)
- You have a strange affinity for pot luck dinners, and especially for casseroles with crumbly fried onions or Ritz crackers or Corn Flakes on top.
- You know who the Gaither's are. By name and by picture.
- In a blind scent test, you can tell the difference between any other book and a hymnal.
- (enter your own hilarious memory here)
AND--you probably have no idea about things like Advent, because more than likely your church didn't follow the traditions marked historically by the Christian Calendar. I grew up knowing about Easter and Christmas, and I knew Lent was when we ate fish on Fridays, but Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Pentecost, and the like were foreign subjects to me, and I was in the church all the time. We did our first Advent celebration at Hope last year, and I've found that catching onto the idea of Advent is like gaining insight into communion: you gain the most insight into the practice through the experience of participating in it.
Thinking back on my upbringing, however, there are certain elements of how we practiced celebrating Christmas that were very Advent-driven, but none more than my parents use of the album Merry Christmas by Johnny Mathis. Behold, Johnny! In all his Christmas majesty!
Now, from my understanding, there are many different ways Christmas morning's gift opening can be approached. Some people woke up as kids and just went tearing into any git with their name on it, regardless of who was awake or around. Some kids woke up their parents to join them in going to see what was under the tree. Not at our house, though. No, there was no sneaking down to even get a peek of what Santa had left behind.
Our house was two-story, and my brothers and I all lived upstairs. On Christmas morning, we were not allowed to come down the stairs until we were invited to by our parents (This kept us from waking them at odd hours, and gave them time to make sure Santa arrived and got everything set up right).
Usually my mom would call us to the top of the stairs to sit, where she or my Dad would greet us with a video camera. This was Christmas ritual: we sat at the top of the stairs, and my mom asked us the same three or four questions:
"What day is it today?" ---> CHRISTMAS!!!
"How old are you today?" ---> (We rattle off our ages. Yes, this still happens today.)
"Are you ready to see what Santa brought you?" ---> YES!!!!!!!!
And then, one of my parents disappears into the living room, where we can't see them. And we wait, like hunting dogs waiting to be released by our master to find a fresh kill, perched on the top step, anticipating the cue from the living room so the paper carnage can begin.
And what was that cue, might you ask? Yes. Johnny, sweet Johnny...
To this day, the opening bars of "Winter Wonderland" excite me. That is the song of Christmas' arrival. I mean, it was the season throughout the holidays, but Johnny's "Winter Wonderland" meant Christmas was here.
We'd fly down the stairs, pushing each other aside if necessary, to see what Santa had brought us. And it wasn't a tornado of gift wrap and ribbon from that point, either. To this day, we have an order in which we open certain things, starting with the sewing machine drawers from my grandmother's sewing machine (which is another post coming). But there was something about turning that corner into the living room and seeing a gift (or 20, as mom and dad are big gifters) that had been waiting for you to come and discover it.
In Luke 2, we find that shepherds were welcomed into Christmas by songs and sounds of praise. They announced the birth of the Christ with disruptive joy, and the shepherds respond with a great line:
"Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about..."(v. 15)
I like to imagine the shepherds running towards Bethlehem, just wanting to catch a glimpse of the Christ that has just been announced to them. I mean, this was not a normal occurrence in my understanding of occurrences: angels shining out in the night and speaking to shepherd didn't happen regularly. Can you imagine the questions they had after that? What just happened? The Christ? A baby? Are your ears still ringing with that song? We have to see this...
Ok...I'm getting into sermon mode, and its late...I'll just leave you with this: celebrating Advent can lead us back to this kind of anticipation in our faith--the kind that can't go to sleep because the possibilities of what Christ will bring leaves us looking and listening with impatient joy. May we become more sleepless as we anticipate the gift of Jesus breaking into our world, bringing hope, salvation, and the Kingdom of God into every peak and valley, peering into each moment with longing and joy, knowing He is coming and we will see it.