Twas the Night Before Christmas

 Biblical scholars and historians agree that Jesus probably was not born on December 25th.  You certainly will not find this date in the gospel narratives of the birth of Jesus. This date became Christmas primarily because of its proximity to the Winter Solstice and the mid-winter Roman celebration of Saturnalia. The current  theory of the fourth century reasoning is/was if the date was during these solar festivals then  Christmas might be mistaken for a pagan festival and more pagans would celebrate it.

Although the political and religious leaders of the time eventually chose December 25th, they could have chosen any day of the year. Because of that, if we chose to we could celebrate Christmas on any day of the year.

Although I have celebrated my most memorable Christmases with my family and  friends on or around December 25th, the most meaningful Christmas service I have attended was in June of 1982. From the time I  had landed in a career of church music in 1971, my mother had encouraged me to participate in Church Music Week.  This week dedicated to the education and nourishment of Southern Baptist musicians was held annually at the Ridgecrest Baptist Assembly in Black, Mountain, North Carolina. I didn't get around to going for eleven more years. And for reasons I don't remember, I never went again.

I asked two of the youth in my church to accompany me to the event. One of them was home from college for the summer and the other was a student at a local high school. Both of them were already accomplished musicians.

I encountered a major obstacle right out of the gate. I couldn't find an available hotel room within twenty five miles of the conference center. Person after person said, "Sorry we do not have a room available". Feeling much like Joseph and Mary must have felt, after the last of those conversations out of sheer frustration I said, "You would think there would be one room in Black Mountain, North Carolina."  She said, "Ok, I've got a room." Our plan was to go a day early to  see the famous outdoor drama "Unto These Hills" in Cherokee, North Carolina, a play about the plight of the  Cherokee Indian history. When we got there we learned to our amazement and disappointment the season opened the next day. We went to a movie instead, The Shining to be exact. It was quite a visual and emotional turn around from "Unto These Hills."

Of everything on the schedule for the week, the thing that intrigued me the most was to occur on Thursday night, "A Christmas program by John Purifoy." Since I knew that he composed and published Christmas cantatas, I assumed the service would be more or less an infomercial for one of his cantatas. Nothing could have been further from the truth. When the Apollo astronauts experienced their first EarthRise, they had no words for the experience. To turn around and  see the Spaceship Earth no  bigger than the moon, was something none of them could adequately describe. When something equally as profoundly wonderful, beautiful and mystical happens for me, I am as speechless as they were.  But I'll offer a few words.

The theme of the service was "Incarnation." Before that night I knew the term historically and theologically.  I had not known it personally and emotionally. Through Purifoy's music and the words that were spoken that June night, I walked out of the sanctuary feeling that for the first time I understood what it meant that God had been born in Bethlehem of Judea. "The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us." The "getting saved" of my childhood no longer had much to do with my "eternal destiny" and had everything to do with that  sanctified night in June. The night before Christmas began in earnest that night in Black Mountain, North Carolina and continued throughout the elongated Christmas season.

That was over thirty-four years ago.  My wife and I are having dinner tonight with  that college student at one of Chattanooga's finest restaurants. He lives in California with his husband, the love of his life. Since we don't get to see him very often, we're having dinner with him again tomorrow night in one of north Georgia's finest restaurants. Both of us are so excited to see him and to get to spend time with him.  Time with this lifetime friend always involves delicious food, fabulous wine and much, much laughter. I can use some laughter.

My mother died in 2003 because of complications of a rupture of her esophagus. Of all the legacies of love that she left to me, one of the best was her affirmation of my choice to spend my life in church music. She was proud of me from day one. And perhaps the most important part of that legacy was to encourage me to go to Church  Music Week.  For a number of reasons, I am so looking forward to December 24th and 25th with my family.  But thanks to. one incredible evening of music in June of 1982, I have no need to  wait until then to celebrate Christmas. Jesus was not only born in Bethlehem; Jesus was born in me.