Yet, somehow, on this very special and holy night, the world got past the front door. Even when you look for solace and calm that one evening a year, you can still get slapped in the kisser by reality.
So much for peace on Earth and good will toward men.
Now, I'm going to come off here as the ultimate cynic, but I am thinking that there may be one or two of you out there who will read what I write and understand what I feel. It's not that complicated.
I have very special memories of church on a Christmas Eve. Back to the days when I ventured down to 219th Street in the Bronx for the 8PM service. Sometimes, my parents joined in. Usually, it was just me and my dad's cousin, Aunt Ollie, who has graced these cyberpages before. Nevertheless, nothing ever got in the way of this night which would be the most intimate spiritual touchstone I would have all year.
I left churchgoing for many years, only to return when I moved to Los Angeles. And, conveniently, Christmas Eve service was right where I left it. And it still held the same glory for me that it did decades before. There wasn't a single carol out of place.
Until this year...
Backtracking a second, I must tell you that my church has become more of an interfaith center for the community. In an effort to pay our bills, we rent out space to a temple, a mosque, several AA groups, a few Al Anon folks, and even some food and sex addicts, who may or may not be meeting separately. Truth be told, I'm cool with this all. I'm the church treasurer and I don't care where the cash comes from as long as it shows up once a month. Whether it be Allah, Johnny Walker Red, or a Snickers Bar, I'm fine with whatever hits your worship needle.
As long as it stays away from mine...
Easier said than done. Especially when the Jewish Journal (yes, there is such a publication) features a cover story that extols the virtues of all these religions coming together under one roof, complete with my pastor's kisser planted firmly on page one. The article itself is a little visit to Fantasyland as it talks about joint worship events that never happened. At the same time, I don't worry since the circulation of the Jewish Journal is mainly the free publication rack at the local car wash, which is where I found my copy.
So, despite being a cynic straight out of Frank Capra's Pottersville, I'm cool with all this. Frankly, I don't believe that three female congregation leaders on the west side of Los Angeles are going to achieve world peace simply by joining hands, but I suppose you have to start someplace.
As long as it stays away from mine...
On Christmas Eve, it didn't. Oh, the music during the service was terrific and the best in years. But, the specter of that Jewish Journal article hovered over us all like mistletoe. It was the primary focus of our pastor's sermon. And, then, almost inexplicably, she invited the temple rabbi up to say a few words as well.
Huh?
The rabbi stated that, for the first time in her life, she was attending a Christmas Eve service. Okay, I admire the courage. Except that it really didn't have to be stated. Or brought up in front of a congregation, many of whom were visitors. It all sounded wrong.
On that one evening where I wanted to be alone with my faith, I wasn't. Even the most holiest of nights had become another in a long series of now never ending "kumbaya" moments.
When does this stop?
But, wait, as God might have said on the fourth day of creation, there's more.
The world intruded in yet another way.
Prior to the service, I was standing at the door and greeting folks as they entered. A couple approached and I noticed their attire. Sweat pants and shirts. Thanks for dressing, I thought. Even I've got a tie on for the first time this year. The male of the visiting equation mentioned that he and his wife often walked past the church and wanted to see what our service was all about. And, oh, by the way, we live in a tent up the block.
Huh again?
As they passed by, I wondered about their back story. Were they perma-campers? Down on their luck with an upside down mortgage? Or perhaps they were part of a protest against those crafty one-percenters who live in Bel Air? I wasn't happy that I took the most cynical approach, but I couldn't help myself.
Especially when I noticed them telling their story to whoever would listen inside.
I thought whether I would do the same thing. Advertise to the world that I was forced to live in a tent? Would anybody do that?
Hello, Cynicism all over again.
Naturally, their saga swept through what was supposed to be a Protestant Christmas Eve service faster than that night when Jesus himself was found in a manger. This couple became renowned without the use of a mega-star in the sky.
After the service, my pastor ran in and scooped up a lot of the loose cash that was in the offering plates. She chased after Mr. and Mrs. Ragamuffin and gave them their own Christmas miracle. I envisoned these two slothes going up the mountain and telling all their friends---for a free handout, head on down to the Village Church.
Later on, someone did vouch for these two who apparently are living in a tent somewhere in the hills near the church. Okay, the ultimate Christmas thing to do.
And, yet, I thought about them. What were the circumstances that led to their new and exclusively outdoor dwelling? While I'm totally aware that times are tough and the economy has been a killer for many of us, was that truly the case here? Were these folks really meeting bad luck at all turns? Or perhaps they are suffering now because they lived and spent way beyond their means? When did their problem become our problem? And how legit was it all?
I didn't feel good thinking about any of this. But, sadly, this is the state of our world today. Poverty, squallor, and pain. As well as theft, scams, and a myriad of ways to beat the system.
Unfortunately, I couldn't help myself. On a single night where I really wanted to think about what Christmas means to my faith, I had to think about everybody else.
And, to think that all I wanted to do was hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful."
I'll answer my own question---the one I asked several paragraphs ago.
It never does stop.
Dinner last night: A wonderful holiday dinner at good friends---ribeye steaks, potatoes au gratin, and asparagus.
1 comment:
It's always something. One thing or another. I cannot go outside without people annoying me. Some days, like today, I can't get to the mailbox downstairs without an unwanted encounter.
Those lucky hermits.
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