“The Light-Bearerâ€
It is a custom, I am sure, all over the world, for parish ministers to call each other on the phone when they get home from leading Christmas Eve services to unwind a bit and to share the bloopers that inevitably beset the services. Maybe a little bit of bragging happens, too.
Expectations are so high for that one night a year (Easter is the other one) and we obsess over every detail far in advance, trying to fit in at least five carols (and everyone has different favorites) and the six anthems the choir has prepared, plus a couple Scripture readings, a short homily and a heartfelt offering words to replenish the Minister’s Discretionary Fund (once known as the Fund for the Worthy Poor in my congregation).
We don’t even say hello. It just begins the moment one answers the phone to the other. I picked up the phone at about 10 pm on Christmas Eve last year and heard, “Oh my God, how was yours? The LIGHT BEARER DIDN’T COME.â€
I thought, Oh, this is going to be good. Because I had a “light thing†happen at our Christmas Eve service, too – at 5pm I went up to the choir loft to sing with the choir and leaned against the light panel and accidentally turned off the lights, casting all of us into darkness too dark to see our music — and then the 7:30 service ushers LIT THE CANDLES TOO EARLY!
Remember when fabulous French figure skater Surya Bonali wiped out in the ’94 Olympics? Yea, like that. In my imagination, because of course neither thing was that big a deal. They’ll just make good stories to giggle over with parishioners for years to come.
I guess what happened at my friend’s church is that she had worked for years to introduce the concept of The Coming of the Light into their candlelight service where, for decades, they sang “Silent Night†and left in the dark without a benediction or anything. This drove her crazy. “We don’t celebrate the coming in of the light!†she says. So at long last she got the Worship Committee to agree to having a child come forth at a dramatic moment in the service – she says, “And then arrived the Bearer of the Light.â€
So last night, she announced this
“AND THEN ARRIVED THE BEARER OF THE LIGHT”
And no kid.
For long minutes, no kid.
She ad-libbed. “AND THEN CAME JUSTIN, THE BEARER OF THE LIGHT.â€
But “Justin†didn’t show up. I mean for 3-4 minutes, just dead air.
What happened behind the scenes is that Justin and his mother couldn’t get the little butane lighter going. They were frantically trying to get the clicker to work, while meanwhile my friend is up in front of the congregation going,
“SOMETIMES WE HAVE TO PATIENTLY AWAIT THE LIGHT”
And she’s having a total nervous breakdown and she’s so upset because right before the service she checked that butane lighter and everything was working FINE.
But you know, Justin’s mother also wanted to check the lighter and light it so many dozens of times making sure it was operational that she burned the thing right out. Those things are eight bucks or something – they don’t have that many lights in them.
So five minutes goes by – the most painful, sweaty five minutes you can imagine for the minister, and she’s still vamping,
“SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO WAIT A VERY LONG TIME FOR THE COMING OF THE LIGHT”
And finally, finally, the kid comes down the aisle with the unlit processional candle and some nice guy on the church staff goes up to my friend and hands her a Bic.
It’s just like, a total bomb of a moment.
But of course my friend says, “It was the WORST. But everyone loved the service. They said it’s the best one we’ve ever had.â€
That’s why we love the Church, people.
Blessings on your holiday preparations. May the Light come in time for all of you.
(This isn’t the actual kid.)
Forget the phone! In my first parish, I started a tradition of inviting colleagues over after the service- yes, after the midnight service- for cocoa. I make normal cocoa, and I make hot sultry zoeys, which are a fancy spiked cocoa. The zoeys help people wind down, and it gave all of us clergy (who at the time were single and had no families in town) someone to hang out with. Oh, yeah, and vet each other’s boyfriend/girlfriend of the year.
Now, it’s evolved to include close friends. The cocoa only lasts about 30 minutes to an hour, because it IS after midnight by this time, but it’s my favorite hour of the year.
That is a great story and I think I would have found that service meaningful. The light never seems to show up on schedule in my life either.
CC
Last year, I did two readings for Christmas Eve services at my home church. I belatedly realized I had left the readings at home and needed to borrow them from the senior minister. Minor blooper, minor panic.
THIS year, I was again doing two readings for Christmas Eve, and my parents jokingly asked if I had made sure to bring the readings, which I had, of course. As we prepared for the first service, I put my purse and reading on the front pew as a carol-leader. I went to greet some old friends, and when I returned? The purse was tucked under the pew, and the reading was gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found. And this was in the middle of the introit, so no time to get another copy. I asked the ushers, checked with fellow carolers… nothing. Cue total, utter panic.
I took a preaching course this fall during my first semester of seminary, and had been encouraged to start sermon resource files; I began filing electronically through Evernote. Believe it or not, the reading I was doing was one I had previously filed. I was able to pull it up on my iPhone, and read from that tiny screen. Thank God for technology. [HOLY COW, I had a little panic attack just reading this! PHEW! – PB]