Christmas Tradition

Everyone has their own Christmas traditions and whatever yours are I hope you are really enjoying them. Whether you were looking forward to this day or dreading it, the build up is often quite stressful. Sparkly Christmas Anxiety takes over, as those of us who live by the list need a book of lists to co-ordinate the lists. (There used to be a writing rule that you didn’t repeat the same word in a sentence but I think times have changed and we can get lists done as many times as we like)

The Christmas tradition that I enjoy the most is going to church on Christmas Eve for the five o clock  candlelight service, before cracking open the Prosecco and sharing a mince pie with some friends.

It may seem a strange thing for me to enjoy. The vicar certainly thought so.
“Hello Julia. Another carol service?”
He had a look on his face that said, “Are you mad, woman?”
But, as I explained,  “I don’t have to do anything for this one. It’s down to you.”
Maybe that’s the appeal. It’s like a re-run of my previous month, without the pressure but I think it’s more than that.

We have been going to this service since my daughter started school. The church and the school have strong links and at that time the five o clock service was a crib service led by an extrovert vicar who ended with a stand up/ sit down version of the twelve days of Christmas. As the years went on, the service became more popular and it would be standing room only by 4.45.  When the extrovert retired people gave him loads of pigs (stuffed, china, wood) because he once mentioned liking them) and eventually he was replaced by a quiet musician, who secretly thought the whole thing was a bit mad.
His church wardens told him that he couldn’t get rid of the 12 days but he wanted to make it his own.
He split the service in two. A three o clock crib service for the small children and a five o clock service of light for us bigger kids. Both services are now heaving and to get a seat you have to be there an hour before but it’s worth it.

I’m not sure I’m a religious person because I can’t quite cope with one doctrine but I am spiritual and the metaphors around religious traditions appeal to me. Every year the church wardens do a risk assessment, conclude that it’s risky and then they go for it anyway. It’s this trust and the throwing away of the health and safety rule book that I find most inspiring.

Everyone gets a candle and they turn the lights out. The main candle is brought up the centre aisle and as the Christmas story is told and carols are sung the light from the large candle is passed from person to person. The church slowly fills with light and warmth. I love the metaphor. Sometimes you can smell singed hair or the edge of a carol book catches light but mostly it’s beautiful and peaceful.

It’s not this part of the service that most people come for, though. The twelve days is still the draw. There are four sections of the church. Section one gets to sing about the first, fifth, ninth day. Section two, the 2nd, 6th, 10th etc. Each section stands up to sing their line. Everyone wants the be Five Gold Rings and people queue at the door to get themselves in the right pews.
While we were waiting for the service to start I said to the Long Suffering Husband that it would be funny if they changed the sections.
“I would, if I was in charge,” I told him. “Change it up a bit.”
He thought that was wicked but we talked around the idea for a while, wondering if people would be upset or find it funny. We saw that one of my sparkly friends was in the Five Gold Rings pew.
“I’m going to text her,” the LSH said. “I’m going to say that I’ve had a word with the vicar and he’s promised to make us five gold rings this year.”
I didn’t let him. I thought it would be mean.

When we got to the end of the service, the vicar abdicated his responsibility to a church warden and an Elf.  They must have heard us.  We were the first section. The usual five gold rings crowd were relegated to 3, 7 and 11. They weren’t happy but what could they do? It wouldn’t be in the spirit of a Christmas to start a punch up in church over not getting to sing Five Gold Rings. So instead, it became a competition. They might not have been able to sing five gold rings but three French hens were the loudest you had ever heard. Each section then raised their game and and if we couldn’t have been heard on the moon then I’d have been surprised. This was achieved with good humour and followed up by the most rousing, heartfelt ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas.’

There was a real sense of community and shared experience as everyone left.

I plan to keep some of that feeling with me throughout the whole Christmas period and wish you all a very merry Christmas before I go off to peel my sprouts.