Many years ago, a little girl who lives on our street was worried that Santa would not find her tucked away home on this dead end country road. Her father, sensitive to her concern, decided to line both sides of our street with luminaries on Christmas Eve, to help guide Santa’s way. It’s a scene we’ve come to look forward to since moving here, and one that we’ll remember fondly as our time in this house comes to a close.
Heading to Maine in just a few hours, we’ll miss our decade long tradition of having good friends over on Christmas Eve to celebrate Emily’s birthday. Christmas is not a holiday for them, so they've always been available to hang out on this night, and join us in honoring our girl’s annual trip around the sun. Highly observant in their own faith and its practices, they are curious about the ways in which other people celebrate holidays. I am too. I love hearing the why behind ritual and tradition. Most years during our Christmas Eve birthday celebration, Jeremy (a rabbi, so his curiosity is probably greater than most) will ask a question or two about the ways in which we celebrate: What does the tree symbolize? And the ornaments? Do people celebrate Christmas if they’re not practicing Christian? That sort of thing.
I should point out that as a scholar of theology, I'm sure Jeremy already knows the answers to his questions, but he asks them anyway; I'm guessing as a way to connect with us around our traditions. I really appreciate his curiosity. Last year’s question was about the lights, which are second nature to me at this middle aged point in life, but of course how intriguing they must be to someone who does not celebrate Solstice or Christmas. What about the lights? Inside and outside… so many lights! This might be my favorite question of Jeremy's because the answer is simple and explains the entire essence of the season. Well, it depends. If you celebrate Solstice and Yuletide, they are strung to brighten the darkest time of year, and to welcome the slow return of the sun. If you celebrate Christmas as a Christian, they represent Jesus as the light of the world. And, as I've learned in recent years, if you happen to be a young girl in a little known town in eastern Connecticut, they help guide a jolly old man in a bright red suit to your welcoming home. For me, the story of this season is one of hope, magic, and generosity. Whether it is felt through celebrating the slow return of light, through the birth of a child who is the light of the world, or through the eyes of a little girl who trusts in her father’s promise.
You know, the luminaries have been lit for many years now, and I imagine the girl is not so little anymore. And yet, every Christmas Eve, in the spirit of hope, magic, and generosity, her father continues to line our street with glowing warm light, so that Santa may find his way.