reflections on a Christian life

Anticipation of December typically brings memories of the crescendo of events beginning with early celebration of family birthdays (my Grandma’s, my mom’s and my own) and climaxing with Christmas Day.  Lately it is more of a rush of closing out yearend business meetings, eating too much and long checkout lines.  But back in the early 60s life was much simpler.  We didn’t have video games and iPhones.  For recreation, we would play stickball in the street with the sawed off end of a broom.  The 2^nd and third steps of the cement staircase leading up to the Serratelli’s house were the strike zone and if you hit it across the street to our house it was a home run.   Or we would have touch football games with the field consisting of three poured sections of concrete in the street.  You got a new set of downs if you got to the crack at the start of the last 3^rd of the field.  When it came to Sunday School visual aids, the flannel graph was the primary tool.  Paper cutouts of the Patriarchs or Jesus with felt backing were pressed up on a cloth board and manipulated as the teacher told the story.  The “Davey and Goliath” show was the height of high tech communication.  It is conjured up every time I hear the tune of “A Might Fortress is our God”.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, the plan for the Sunday School Christmas program would be rolled out.  There would be several Saturday mornings of rehearsals prior the main event.  The individual chosen to recite the “welcome” was sure to be either the girl with the softest voice, or the boy with the loudest.  Juvenile speculation would surround the designated actors for Mary and Joseph and the rest of us, as shepherds, wisemen or the heavenly host would have a few lines to be delivered on cue.  The costumes stored in a hallway behind the sanctuary were passed out for the assigned roles, and our moms would either alter or pin them up so we were ready for our dress rehearsal on the final Saturday.

That Sunday night we wouldn’t have to stay dressed up since we had our costumes, and we knew the pastor would not give a sermon, only say a welcome and a prayer over the offering, so we were pretty wired.  Plus we would be getting gifts from our teachers and a full box of chocolate, all our own, from the Sunday School.  (Growing up with 3 siblings there were three times a year that you got candy you could horde as your own: Halloween, Easter and the Christmas program night).  The program itself would have its share of tripped entrances, flubbed lines and every couple of years, a candle would be too close and some girl’s hair would get singed.

This annual event has been repeated in churches around the country not because of the skill of the actors or our taste in family entertainment- it has been repeated because we are celebrating a historical event and engaging in worship.  We are putting on a celebration for God and inviting the audience to celebrate with us.  We are remembering the events of Christ’s birth by reenacting before God, his own miracle.  We are singing to him and for him.

Gradually, during the 80s and 90s, the family video camera intruded on the spectacle to turn the event into a performance on the shelf in the family room.  As we became more discriminating in our tastes we shortened or eliminated the Christmas pageant and were more selective in our musical and theatrical talent, preferring to increase our quality and “relevance”.  Now we can deliver mood, magic and inspiring drama or readings without enlisting the minions of amateurs and wasting shopping days in rehearsals.

I don’t think my church has had a Sunday School Christmas program in at least ten years- and maybe it is silly to think we should go back to that.  But I do want to be able to come together, children, teens, adults, grandparents and celebrate before God for his pleasure.