Midnight Mass and Happy Epiphany

Now that the news is out, I feel like I can write again. Keeping secrets is something I can do, but not without angst. And angst squelches creativity for me—unless, of course, I can tackle the problem with my proverbial pen. But in this case, I felt compelled to keep quiet, so I found it difficult to say much of anything in this public venue.

Now, about Christmas…..

I failed to mention that our own Christmas Eve service at the Free Methodist Church where we are members was also very, very lovely. Kudos to A-Town reader Sherrie for her decorating excellence. I especially enjoyed the multitude of tea lights—dazzling.

Part of what makes Midnight Mass so marvelous and magical for me is the timing. My last-minute preparations of the holiday are accomplished. The children are nestled all snug in their beds. Santa has visited our house and eaten her his cookies. And Will’s best present to me every December 24^th (the years we are in A-Town) is going to bed, keeping the kids safe, freeing me to shuffle up the quiet street to the big old sandstone cathedral where the stained glass windows glow with the radiance of the season.

I slip through one of the church’s three front doors—usually the most westward one. I tiptoe down one of the side aisles and find a place to kneel and pray. The choir is singing. The place is filling up. Everyone is quiet, taking in the resonant, sincere song-offerings of the church musicians. I finish my prayer, I sit back in my pew, I sneak a peek around me (typically spying some fellow A-Town-ite I haven’t seen in ages)…

And I breathe. A long, deep calming aspiration of gratitude and gladness. A wave of relief sweeps over me, recalling the Aldersgate experience of my own church’s fervent founder John Wesley; my heart feels “strangely warmed.” It’s Christmas.

I would trade all the tinsel and toffee in the universe for that hour of hearty holiday worship. OK—not all the congregants are as enthusiastic as I am. Three or four Christmases ago, I sat next to a girl who was, I’m quite sure, stealthily texting throughout the service. But it didn’t matter. All that matters to me in that moment is belting out Adeste Fideles (I love that we get to sing in Latin) in earnest adoration of the King of Kings: “O Come, Let Us Adore Him: Christ the Lord!”

Lest anyone think this reflection past its prime, a reminder that this Wednesday marks Epiphany in the Christian calendar. May Christ’s Spirit of Love be made manifest in my life in 2010.

Image: Adoration of the Magi by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, 17th century (Toledo Museum of Art, Ohio.