Today is when all the Christmas decorations will come down at Divinity, as we follow the church-y protocol of honoring the full 12 days of the celebration and all. For some on the actual home front, it oftentimes takes a while to remove all the stockings that were hung by the chimney (or wherever else) with care, as well as the elves on the shelves or full-scale trees and random figurines, let alone however many hundreds of lights. For some, it’s not just about the time commitment to re-organize all the living room displays, but some are rather emotionally attached to all those heart-warming pieces that are meant to inspire our own little joy in the world.
Mentioning specific politicians’ names in the church realm usually makes people uneasy, to say the least, as we often cling to a hope that church and state should be forever separated and all. And yet, God seems to insist that the impact of the Divine on our lives should carry across the board, the…entire…human…board. We seemed to have a precious bit of that in former President Jimmy Carter. Granted, I had not quite come around during his time at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I did not experience a hostage crisis that must have been absolutely debilitating to family and friends of those taken against their will. I was not a consumer during an inflation nightmare for many, when waiting for a few cars at a gas station now is nothing in comparison to the lines that emerged then. With all that being said, the former peanut farmer from Georgia did his fair share of positively impacting the world during his latter decades of a century’s worth of living.
It finally happened. One of the most famous worship sites in all the world finally opened its doors to a more public praising of God after a fire nearly destroyed its breath-taking beauty over five years before. Granted, Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France, approaching 800 years of history after the original structure was mostly completed, has seen its fair share of renovations over the centuries. However, this was another level of initial collective shock and fear for the French and worldwide adorers, to a near Resurrection-like miracle for the majestic architectural work of art.
As we prepare for a service of Lessons & Carols this weekend, I cannot help but think back to one of my fondest memories of the one at my college alma-mater, about ten years after I last participated in it. When I was on campus, it was always one of those experiences that was not just “good” or “nice,” but truly spiritually nourishing. It was, of course, always done a certain way when I was there. It always started off with the choir in the back of the sanctuary, with a soloist leading the liturgy of the Service of Light (still being used from the good ‘ole green Lutheran Book of Worship at that time), as candles were lit in the pews. In between the lines of the music, there would be these interludes of what’s called a change-ring from the handbell choir: with the bells being passed in between ringers in a musical scale-like fashion. As the service went on, certain readers would read the lessons: among them, a child from the community would read the passage of “a little child shall lead them” from Isaiah 11, the president of the university would take care of one, and the finale from John 1 would always be read by the choir president.
