December 17th
Sneaking this in here. And if you’re flailing your way towards Christmas and don’t know what day it is, no it’s not Tuesday. It’s currently Friday. I did have to double check that. So it’s definitely right. But we’re skipping back, just for a minute, to Tuesday.
What happened was, on Tuesday, I helped make some Christingle oranges, and when I say helped, there was a pretty efficient team of volunteers, so I really didn’t do very much. I wrapped candles in foil and stuck them into carefully prepared oranges and learnt about tried-and-tested year-after-year methods of making them. I soaked up the smell of orange and the cosily decorated church and the welcome I receive there as a fairly-frequent guest and the atmosphere of cheerful and organised volunteers, one of whom led us in a Christmas hits singalong.
It made me look back. Christingles haven’t changed much since I was a child, a teenager, a zealous younger me. Just a little bit more health and safety. Not too much though, since you’re still encourages to put multiple sharp objects in your mouth. They still look the same and they still mean the same. The world. Love. Creation. Light that bears hope. And won’t drip on you because nowadays there is strategic foil.
Last night I walked through the village of Grasmere and heard carols comings from the beautiful old church there, and saw a sky filled with stars. I missed the days when this hope felt more simple to me. Christ coming into the world. When what that meant felt clearer.
But. The stars still feel the same, so many of them in the clear Cumbrian air, the swell of the carols, the oranges sticky and spiky, these things still bear hope.
I have fewer simple words for that hope, much less simple ideas, but they still bear hope. Somehow, stars, small sweets on sticks, voices coming together for an hour amongst long nights, are part of Christ coming, however we understand that or not.
[Image description: a crowd of Christingles. Thirty unlit white candles, a sea of foil and sweets and raisins, a Christmas tree in the background, and a little label explaining the message of the Christingle tucked into the lower right hand corner.]