Celebrating Christmas 2023

I may not have mentioned that Marjorie and I regularly attend Roscommon’s Good Shepherd United Methodist Church of the North. (Ours may not be the largest church in the area but we certainly have the largest name.) The church, like many others, has an annual decline in attendance about this time of year when our snowbirds decide to vacate the area for warmer climes. The temporary decline in attendance means that additional participation from the membership is needed during the Service to assure that all the religious ceremonies associated can be managed.

Accordingly, it was not a surprise when Marjorie mentioned to me that the church leadership had asked if we would manage the ritual of lighting the candles for the fourth and last step in celebrating the Advent Season. Of course, we said yes. Subsequently, a note appeared on our computer files that listed a two-paragraph text to accompany the lighting of the candles and an additional text for a thoughtful prayer to follow the readings. Marjorie was willing to read the prayer, leaving the aforementioned text and the lighting of the candles to me.

Our church has moved into the 20^th century with the use of pretend flames and/or an automatic fire starter for such things as lighting candles. The devices commonly used in our church for such things are the everyday butane igniters. The church must purchase them in gross since I’ve watched the minister countless times casually using the igniters for numerous candle-fired ceremonies.

I don’t mean to brag, but I have lengthy experience in using the butane-filled plastic guns that serve as our modern-day fire igniters. Mostly, they don’t work for me. At least, the ones I use daily to light the fire in our wood stove are not reliable as they routinely require three or four clicks and a swear word to function properly. I decided to expect the worst in my part of the candle- lighting ceremony for Advent.

I have told you in the past that Marjorie and I are also dedicated participants in our Silver Sneakers exercise class where we have developed several friendships. Some weeks ago, one of the new friends confided that she was looking for a church that could satisfy her religious longings. I quickly put two and two together and invited her to our Methodist Church. A potential new member to our church, I speculated. She attended one time and then missed the next several Sundays without further comment. Last week, and just before my starring role in the Advent ceremony, she told me that she had finished wrestling with the decision to discontinue her earlier church association and commit to Good Shepherd. It must have been during this explanation that she asked about attending church with us, and by the way, ‘what time do the Services begin?’

I thought no more about it until this past Sunday when our assignment about Advent was to occur. We arrived early and sat in the pew directly in front of the minister’s customary position when giving his sermon – a spot closest to the table with the candles and adjacent to the two microphones used to broadcast the sermon or other important announcements, like the Advent ceremony.

The service began with the normal introductory announcements by the minister that I followed closely, expecting him to urge us forward at any moment for our part of the service. Suddenly, I felt a substantial nudge against my shoulder. It was the Silver Sneakers friend who had just arrived at the church and, spotting us on the front row, had made her way down one of the two aisles to the front of the church where we were nervously awaiting our turn in the spotlight. In all likelihood, the entire congregation had watched the lady arrive and make her way to the front of the church.

I turned to look at the intruder now standing beside me. She made a whispered, but forceful comment. “You told me church started at 10:30, not 10:00 AM.” I must have looked stunned as I searched my memory for recall about a time announcement. Nothing arose. Just then, the minister signaled to us, and Marjorie and I made our way to the raised platform to face the expectant congregation.

Marjorie and I each had our own paper containing the script for the Advent readings. We had decided that I would go first, reading the first piece, followed by lighting of the candles, then the second piece, before I would introduce Marjorie and her prayer duty. We each clutched our paper as we moved slowly and stiffly to the Dias with the speed and gravity that I thought appropriate to the ceremony.

As I stepped behind the table with the candles, I must have been thinking about the reluctant igniter. I grabbed it for a practice firing as I was accustomed to doing at home. To my surprise, the igniter sent a burst of blue flame at the business end. The candles stood in front of me. There was nothing for it, as it seemed a natural movement to light the first candle, then its neighbor and suddenly I had a nice fire going as all four candles were ablaze. As I laid the igniter aside, I noticed the piece of paper that I was to read from. Words started coming from my mouth and I completed the first paragraph without incident … and then the second paragraph erupted almost magically from my mouth. I had concluded my part of the ceremony but not in the order expected.

It was then that I noticed the white space in the script where I was to pause while I ignited the candles. I had forgotten that lighting the candles was supposed to be an integral part of the text. With that realization it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I HAD ALSO given the wrong church starting time to my friend and maybe I had thoughtlessly given the first and second part of my speech AFTER lighting the candles instead of the sequence speak, light the fire, speak again, introduce Marjorie.

I remember turning to the audience. “Now I will ignite the candles,” I announced as I made a show of laying my paper aside. I was rewarded by a few smiles from the audience members who were listening and recognized my screw up. At this point, I remembered Marjorie and the prayer. I announced her part then she walked to the microphones just as I should have also done.

I stood my ground, hoping that my place next to the candles was the pre-ordained place for me while she reverently broadcast her prayer. She finished and I slunk behind her to our seats in front, next to the lady who had endured the stares of the congregation as she walked in to join us.

During the remainder of the church service, I tried to think of something positive about my part of the Advent ceremony. And then it hit me; I decided that one good thing about my first Christmas Advent reading was that I probably wouldn’t be asked to volunteer for another reading for quite some while.

I hope you had a Merry Christmas and it was just as joyous as mine and maybe with fewer mistakes in the religious arena.