Turning to Traditions
By Rebecca Bowman Woods
Rebecca Bowman Woods does freelance writing, marketing and web design from her home near Cincinnati, Ohio, and is a member of Tylersville Road Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). She is currently serving as Guest Co-Editor of EcuMiniNet™.

As an adult looking back at the Advent seasons of my childhood, I realize how many of my most vivid memories center on the church and its traditions.

The memories that hold the greatest joy include those of family night suppers at First Presbyterian Church in Fairborn, Ohio, where we made advent wreaths and ornaments in the church basement. Children's choir practices had begun in September in the same church basement with Mrs. Baughman, the stern-looking but kind director and organist. Those months of hard work came to fruition with our performance at the Christmas Eve service. We knew our words and notes and harmonies so well that we could have sung them in our sleep.

Still, I never failed to be awestruck, entering that sanctuary on Christmas Eve night, its usual Sunday morning appearance completely transformed by the bright candlelight and long shadows, and the unmistakable feeling of great mystery and wonder within and beyond its walls.

Right after the service ended, my mother would hurry my brother and I into the ladies' room, where we would change into our pajamas. We would rush out the side door of the church to the waiting car, already loaded with presents, for the annual three hour drive north to my grandparents' house in Toledo. Once we got north of Dayton, Dad would tune the radio to WJR in Detroit, so we could hear the reports of Santa's progress.

I remember once, on this drive, looking out the back window of the '65 Mustang at the stars and moon in the cloudless night sky in hopes of seeing Santa, but instead hearing the voice of the Peanuts' character Linus, dressed as a shepherd in the Charlie Brown Christmas pageant, reciting Luke 2:10-11. "Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord." Looking out over the frozen cornfields, I knew that while St. Nick was last seen somewhere near Cleveland, God was everywhere.

Traditions, at their best, are more than just rituals to be repeated. They are a means of connecting with our spiritual heritage. As a child, these traditions were filled with meaning, and their return each Advent season always brought joy and reassurance. In these times, we need that reassurance. We need joy, and we need meaning. Those of us fortunate enough to grow up with church traditions can look to them as we prepare ourselves for this Advent season.

Sometimes it is hard to hear our traditions speaking to us over the constant drone of commercialism telling us to "buy, buy, buy." And the buying isn't limited to gifts. It extends to experiences as well. Stand in line for two hours to get little Suzie's picture taken sitting on Santa's lap. Pay $25 per person to take the kids to Disney's Christmas Carol on Ice. Get thee and thy family to the Festival of Lights, now! Don't let your children be the only ones who haven't seen Toy Story 3!

The reality is that in the overstimulated, cluttered, consumption-oriented holiday season, our traditions can easily become one more item on a long holiday to-do list, with lighting the family advent wreath squeezed in between "buy more wrapping paper" and "go pick up the ham." And next year, we may find that we have so much to do that we may not even make it to the hanging of the greens, or caroling with the youth group at the nursing home, or to the children's choir program.

So this year, I'm making a promise to myself to put faith "meaning-making" first. That doesn't mean my family will have to suffer a Christmas without the trimmings. But by making faith traditions a priority, perhaps some of the meaning, joy and reassurance that they bring will spill over to the more mundane, behind-the-scenes tasks like gift-wrapping and ham chauffeuring.

Who knows, I might even find time to cook that ham myself.

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