Christmas Day

 

Christmas Day 2022 was actually very quiet for us. R is still battling the “dreaded lurgy” (a term I picked up many years ago when I lived in England) and so wasn’t able to come with me to the Christmas Day service at St. Mary’s after all. Which was a great shame as the choir was very good. And the sermon touched me deeply. Father Christopher spoke of light, enlightenment, which was symbolic of what the Christ Child brought at his birth. Using Luke’s story of the shepherds, Christopher mused about how it is difficult to appreciate how dark the sky really is when you are in the heart of London. The stars are just faint pinpricks of light. He spoke about how amazed he is when he goes on holiday to a place where there is little artificial light, how endless the stars seem to be and he understands why the ancients called the sky “the Milky Way.” I thought of how lucky I am to live in a place where I do see the stars so very clearly at night and of other places I have lived in—especially in Santa Fe—where I have stood on mountains and seen virtually all of the constellations.

Christopher continued with his sermon, describing his vision of shepherds on the hills, watching for dangers from marauding wolves, when suddenly angels appeared to them, describing a wondrous event. And they, stunned, decide to go see it. He continued on, urging us to take advantage of hearing “good tidings of great joy” — seek the joy, go to it and allow ourselves to be forever changed by it in whatever we believe, in whatever we hold dear. As I said, his sermon spoke to my heart and I did resolve to continue to seek the “glad tidings” and to allow myself to be continually charmed, challenged and changed by them.

I meandered back to the hotel through the lovely streets of Kensington, goggling at the huge Georgian apartment buildings, peeking into the private garden parks. When I got back to the room, R was still fairly groggy so I spent the afternoon quietly, writing up my impressions of the past two days. We had our Christmas dinner at a small Greek hole in the wall where the cooks were at the front of the restaurant and we sat, the sole diners, at a table in the back. A chicken shawarma for me, a fish sandwich for R. I thought, not of the big turkey dinners that I have so often enjoyed in the past, but of simple meals that were being eaten through much of the world. And I felt grateful for food, grateful for quiet.

Last night, after I returned from the Christmas Eve party, R and I watched the last scenes of the old Alastair Sim movie “Scrooge.” Looking at Sim’s joyful face as he wakes up Christmas Day and realizes he is alive and has a chance to redeem his life, his laughter, his wondering words “I don’t deserve such joy,” after he sees how people welcome his transformation, I am filled with that special spirit of Christmas. And am so grateful to have Christmas 2022.