Holiday Traditions
Ah, the smell of pine and cinnamon sticks outside grocery stores. The ring of bells as the Salvation Army collects donations. The weather is getting colder, though I’m no fan of the cold, but with it carries clarity to the upcoming holidays. The air gets crisp, and especially after hours of sunlight, the winter sky becomes a spectacular watch of the heavens. I love to go outside and catch the scent of someone in town with a wood fire, possibly to keep their home warm, possibly just to burn brightly for an activity of fun. My brother’s family just roasted chestnuts over an open fire the other night, in their patio fire ring. Whether you like chestnuts or not, doing something like this puts a smile on everybody’s face and a warmness to their hearts.
Then, there are the Christmas specials, that have been streaming for weeks on television sets. Families gather together to watch their favorite movies, though we’ve seen them a thousand times. Most of us can even recite lines and lyrics from them. Still, each and every year just isn’t the same without doing what we love to do, these traditions, the events that bind us together in the spirit of celebration and love.
I would love to have people write in on some of their special Christmas traditions. The mix of ideas is endless, as some do everything from eat a certain meal together to those who take a special voyage to meet with a family member or friend.
For me, some traditions, such as my Grandma Selembo’s once-a-year big dinner, will always be remembered. With pure Italian blood, she worked hard to prepare The Feast of Seven Fishes each year for the Vigilia di Natale, or Christmas Eve. It wasn’t that any of us grandkids actually wanted to eat the fish. In fact, most of us strayed from it. At the age of five, seven, nine, or even into our teen years, we would walk past the seafood just to “look but not taste.” It was kind of like looking in a zoo.
I’m sure there are variations to this meal, but Gram would always have seafood cooked in seven different ways. Regardless of what type of critter it was, there had to be something sugared, something baked, something broiled, something fried, something sauced or stewed, something breaded, and something buttered. Usually, the only one I might try was the Baccalà. Sorry, but to a youngster, a tray of smelts or unfried calamari wasn’t all that appealing.
Time has a way of changing things. Over the years us cousins learned to actually like the meal Gram made, especially the Holiday Soup. Gram and Grandpa lived on a farm, had lots of kids, and learned how to make things happen. If you didn’t have enough nutcrackers for all the kids to eat Brazil Nuts or Almonds, there were always hammers, chunks of wood, rolling pins, or chair legs available. I’ll never forget us cousins sitting around hammering on the table with chair legs to crack open walnuts. Of course, the Christmas Pie, served only Christmas Eve, was nearly a sin to eat at any other time, as well as a personal favorite of mine, the Bolbukie. The sweet balls of dough were a treat, going great with the fruit punch made with ginger ale. Pizzelles, torrones, pomegranates, homemade biscotti (although Gram never called it that), and other Italian cookies were a hit.
Our family was extremely large. My mom had six other sisters and two brothers, nine of them all together. There were so many people in Grandmas’s house that she had an add-on built in which picnic tables went the length of its entirety. There were no chairs; we all piled onto a spot in the long, make-shift table set-up, hoping to find a space to eat.
With so many people present, it tended to get quite warm in the room. Regardless of the temperature outside, Gram always had a fire going in the woodstove. It was used for everything from heating the room to getting rid of garbage. It could be a sunny December day, but Gram would keep throwing in logs. One would think that you might not fuel it quite so much during times of family get togethers, but she would keep throwing wood in it regardless. Time after time the room was so boiling hot, we would have to keep the doors open. The stove was also used to cook, as chestnuts could be roasted on top.
We also made it to church each year.
Before we went to Gram’s house, we would make it to Christmas Eve Candlelight Service. In keeping with traditions, one of the longest standing traditions for me and my family is that of candlelight service Christmas Eve. My mom and dad would take us each year, and it quickly became my favorite moment annually. The singing of carols brought you into a spirit of reverence, the holy night when Christ was born was ushered in with song. There was such a special taste of honor to the service. Men and women, boys and girls, would all be dressed in reds and other colors commemorating the occasion Christ made his way into the world to save us. Often there were special cantatas, skits, musical performances. It never disappointed; there was always a beauty to behold. I especially loved the times Dad or sisters would sing or perform on stage.
Though all of this was very special to me, nothing compared to the moment that the candles were actually lit. Each year it was the grand expectation. We would enter the church; a giant basket of candles would be waiting with greeters. “Merry Christmas,” they would say, and a candle would be handed to you with a smile. We were always looking forward to it.
When it was time, one by one, church members passed the flicker of a flame from one to another, until the whole congregation glowed in precious light. It was beautiful. Honoring. A revered moment that one looked forward to. When Silent Night was sung with touched voices, staring into the perfect form of a candle’s glow made everything else vanish away.
It is also the moment that my sister’s hair caught on fire.
I’m sure in the annals of Christmas history there are plenty of mishaps, but the spectacle and commotion of someone’s hair catching on fire can’t be erased from memory. There is no way to “undo” the effect of one’s hair burning during the most sacred service of the year. My one sister, Mary, was watching her friend gap two wicks apart extra wide to make the flame “bigger.” She wasn’t watching her own candle, which was too close to my other sister Cheryl’s hair for comfort. Needless to say, it made a scene, as Mary and others tried to help put it out and regain composure. Dad’s eyes shot their way, silently screaming that they better behave.
Also, needless to say, a new tradition was born, one in which we would talk about the event from then on. “Remember the day Cheryl’s hair caught on fire at church? It brought us to tears, as each year the holiday couldn’t be lived or enjoyed without retelling the saga and laughing hysterically about it.
I think about how people probably looked forward to services held in Biblical times. Though services and festivals were different back then, I suppose that like our services, people looked forward to partaking in tradition. People tend to like tradition. It often gives us peace.
The thing is, when something out of the ordinary occurs, a simple tradition can be life changing. Just like Christmas Eve Service will never be the same because Cher’s hair caught fire, so our lives will never be the same since Jesus entered the world, shaking up everything.
Luke 2:25-32
Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,
“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation
that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel.”
Yes, Simeon was in the temple service. Yes, Mary and Joseph were carrying out the tradition and customs necessary for Jewish law, everything seemed to be in the normal.
Yet Jesus forever changed tradition.
When the Son of God humbled himself as a child, coming to us in that precious and holy time, he not only changed Simeon’s life, but ours. Now, because of what Jesus did, we have seen God’s salvation, a light for revelation to those who are not Jews, the glory for the ones who are.
Jesus not only made this celebration of tradition special, he changed it for all time.
As always, I want to challenge you today as you read this. We all have traditions. Some are Christmas traditions, some are just things we like, and some are when we catch our hair on fire. In the string of activities we engage with this holiday season, don’t be derailed when something shakes a tradition up. In fact, sometimes we need to have traditions shaken up. We need to look into what we do, how we do it, and why we do it. There will never be a greater reason to celebrate a tradition other than when Jesus Christ himself broke into our time and space and became like one of us- a person- made in skin and flesh. He did it for you. He did it for me. He did it for the countless around the world in countries far and wide. He came into the world, rattling every tradition man has ever held. He is the reason for our celebration. This year, I challenge you to allow him to be part of whatever holiday tradition he chooses to shake up. Be intentional about making something specific for you and your family to center around him. Do an activity that retells his story, what he did, or focus on the honor and glory he deserves.
I don’t recommend lighting your hair on fire, but I do recommend lighting the candle of reflection for what he is this Christmas.
You will never be the same.
By Chuck Carr
Photo credits: Celia Balmer