When I was very young, Christmas Eve was magical. We had the same menu every Christmas Eve for dinner at our house. We opened family presents in the early evening. My parents helped me prepare for Santa's visit. We put up signs on the door advising that our chimney was hot--and blocked by our wood-burning stove insert, so the door was the better option. We put out black coffee and a slice of my Mom's "baptized"/immersed in scotch fruitcake (one to counteract the other) on Noritake china. Magically, on Christmas morning I would find that Santa was clever and wise, had used the door successfully, had enjoyed the coffee and fruitcake, and used his sooty glove to wipe his mouth on the paper Christmas napkin. How was this possible? I wasn't sure, and I knew it was a mystery. And I believed.
I am now 60 years old, and Christmas Eve is still magical. That's because I now celebrate it in Key West. This coming Tuesday will be my fourth Christmas Eve with you at St Paul's. Magically, mysteriously, faithfully, hundreds of people turn up to celebrate the birth of the Christ child and remember together God's greatest gift to this world God created and so loves. The wood-burning stove of my childhood has been replaced by the coconut-husk charcoal of our thurible--and we have a brand new one that will be debuted on Christmas Eve. The sweet-smelling soot from the incense and charcoal reminds me of Santa's visits and of the earthy details of God's Incarnation among us. Rather than placing a note for Santa upon my door, I oversee the placing of the Baby Jesus in the creche and have the privilege of censing and singing it. (This year it's a new olive wood Nativity set, a gift to the parish from Becky and me.)
My Mom and Dad are with me in spirit, as ever, and I have replaced my Mom's fruitcake with the tradition of sipping a wee dram of my favorite single malt from a Glencairn glass after I get home following midnight mass.
My grownup Christmas Eves are much more liturgical than those of my childhood. And they are much more magical as well as a great deal more mystical. One of the most precious moments of my entire year is kneeling with you, each of us holding our candles, and singing "Silent Night." Such a blessing and a privilege. How is God's Incarnation among us possible? I am not sure, and I know that it is the greatest mystery. And I believe.
See you very soon in person or online to celebrate both the birth of Christ Jesus our Savior and the 192nd birthday of St Paul's, Key West.
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