Stolen Moments

After leaving the synagogue, Jesus, James, and John went home with Simon and Andrew.  Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed, sick with a fever, and they told Jesus about her at once.  He went to her, took her by the hand, and raised her up. The fever left her, and she served them. (Mark 1:29-31, CEB translation)

I had worked all day Christmas Eve. We had 2 services, but countless details to prep that day. I finally saw my family that day at the 8 p.m. service. Following that, and all the clean up from the service, my family and I drug around town at 10 p.m. until we discovered there was a Denny’s open, and we ate Christmas Eve dinner there. It was literally the only place left open, and I was grateful for it. Christmas Day we packed up the car to travel to our parents’ houses, where we spent the next 3 days, before coming home to get ready for Sunday service.

All I wanted for New Year’s Day was one day. One quiet day in my pajamas. I made it all the way to 5 p.m. before the phone call came. Emergency surgery. A parishioner I had actually never met had suddenly wanted her pastor present as she faced this terrifying moment. And her family expected I would be there. So not only would I not spend the whole day in pajamas, I would now have to transform into a professional. Such an appearance would be necessary to comfort the family, and I have also discovered the more professionally I am dressed, the more accessible all the places in a hospital are. Security is skeptical that a person in pajamas is actually the pastor they claim to be, but wearing a sharp pant suit, they let me saunter right into ICU.

That was the same year that my mother griped at me for not giving any Christmas traditions to my son. After all, that year we had only managed to put up a paltry 3 foot table tree. That was following the 4 years we just left the Christmas tree up, but dusted it and turned it on in December.

I popped back at my mother and said, “I have too given him a tradition. Christmas Eve service at church.” It was true. It was the one constant. No matter what else was happening, I was guaranteed to be at Christmas Eve service, and guaranteed that my family would join me for at least one of them. I would never sit next to them. But we would all be in the same room. And we would all hold a candle. And we would all sing Silent Night. That was our one certain and sure tradition. Otherwise, the life of a pastor disrupts everything else about the holiday. Everything else.

Now, part of me wants to proudly proclaim how prophetic that reality is. In the midst of an overcrowded and far too commercial season, my family and our one tradition speak to what is actually important about Christmas. After all, there is really only one Christmas story in the Bible, the one recounted in Luke 2, and all that happens in that story is a new family is created and people worship God. So really, to honor Christmas is just to focus it around that one moment, Christmas Eve worship.

But try explaining that prophetic reality to a 5 year old who never has a mother home Christmas Eve to bake cookies for Santa. And thank God my son was too old when Elf on a Shelf hit. I can’t imagine adding the task of keeping up with the movement of an elf to an already overwhelming season.

We never had to adjust the arrival of Santa, but when Christmas morning falls on a Sunday, we did have to adjust our own wake up time. I do understand why many pastors’ families do have different arrival days for Santa, though. I also understand why some kids may have questions about why that happens. This is why I offer this “translation” of the Covenant of St. Nicholas and the Apostles of the Church here.

I am not serving a single church this year, but serving 650 instead. That does mean, however, that I am in a pew beside my family for once. My heart goes out to all my friends and colleagues who will stand behind the pulpit multiple times this week. It will not matter what is going on in your life. It will not matter if your kids are crying and wrapped around your legs begging you to stay home. It will not matter if you are fighting off whatever sickness is making its way around town. It will not matter if you have no time to cook Christmas Eve dinner and you have no Denny’s nearby. You still have to go. Much like Peter’s mother-in-law, Jesus has come into your life and raised you up. Now get to serving, whether anyone else sees what you are going through or not.

But I see you. And I love you. And I am confident, even in this week when we sometimes grow to resent our faith, God sees you too. And I have to believe God wants something different for you than what you are experiencing. Keep the worship. And yes, we must keep being present in people’s vulnerable moments of their lives. But maybe, just maybe, we can let all the rest of the attendant Christmas shit go. And still manage to give our families something good to remember, in spite of it all.

If you are a pastor, I send my love. And if you are a parishioner, remember your pastors and their families, who will never have the same Christmas traditions as you hold dear. And also, maybe see if you can bring them Christmas Eve dinner so they don’t wander the town like Mary and Joseph, looking for anywhere that will welcome them. For Christ’s sake.