Christmas Up North

I admit. I admire the guy*s chutzpah in even thinking of this.  Now I wonder if he was the only priest the congregation could get.  I can*t imagine taking Christmas off, even when I don*t have an up-front role.  Among twenty million other things, Christmas offers a barometer of the church family, parents bursting with pride at grown children returning, grieving people held, stray people who never darken the doors any other time of the year, but somehow it*s safe late at night with carols, and tinsel on the floor, and Silent Night, Holy Night.  How can you miss this, I think.  Christmas Up North will never begin to compare.

Years ago I knew a priest who negotiated a contract

With his congregation

For being away

At Christmas.

He celebrated with his family

Up North.

I will not name him.

It does not matter.

I admit at the time

I admired his guts.

Every year since

The memory of him

Makes me sadder and sadder.

Now I wonder if he or his congregation

Ever knew enough

To change

The contract.

The tree is still up.

Of course

We celebrate all twelve days

Here at home.

It is probably too much

To hope for all the tinsel remains

To be left on the floor at church

For twelve days

In front of the altar rail.

Still I do.

Hope

That is.

The poinsettias will probably stay

As Christmas placeholders.

Next Sunday Christmas continues.

I will hear

In the beginning was the Word

With the rest of my family.

We will do a Christmas carol reprise.

Better than any Christmas

Up North.