Bringing Tenderness

Hi. It’s December.

In Judaism, it’s the month of Hanukkah - not the most important holy day on the calendar, but perhaps the most famous to non-Jews because it happens in December, when there are a bunch of holy days and holidays to celebrate.

In the earth based traditions and in natural science, it’s the month of Solstice - here in the northern hemisphere, it marks the start of astronomical winter (unlike the blustery storms that roll through and the exclamation of ‘oh dear god it’s so cold I’m not prepared where’s the shovel’ that marks the actual start of winter).

Occasionally, Ramadan, a holy month in Islam, is in December - expect it again in 2030. Diwali gets close, sometimes showing up in late November.

And of course there’s Kwanzaa, which fills the days after Christmas, along with more secular holidays like Boxing Day and Festivus.

And, in Christianity, we are now in the season of Advent - a time of waiting and preparing for the Christ child’s birth, which we mark on the 25th.

That’s a lot of holiness and magic and family and snow shoveling and decorating and cooking and shopping and anxiety and anticipation. Year after year, we hear messages about slowing down, pacing ourselves, dwelling in the quiet of the season, but we know we just don’t do that.

Unfortunately, that rush and anxiety can show up in Unitarian Universalist congregations especially as wanting to not actually talk about Jesus on Christmas eve.

Readers outside of UUism, it’s true. Despite our foundational theologies being Christian, and despite our value of pluralism which means that (checks notes) we affirm “are all sacred beings, diverse in culture, experience, and theology,” practically every religious professional in our faith will hear from someone that there’s “too much Jesus” or “can we not sing traditional carols on Christmas eve” or just flat out refuse to come to anything in December because they might get a little Jesus on them.

Yes, there is a fair bit of bad theology that shows up in December (yes, Mary did know). Christmas dominates the season, with many of our traditions emerging out of a Christian context. And sure, Christmas is another time when we may have to tolerate intolerable relatives. It’s crept earlier and earlier too, thanks to corporatism and retail practices - I sat waiting for an oil change in early November while “Feliz Navidad” and “White Christmas” blasted through the waiting room speakers.

It can be a lot. No lie detected.

And for some, this month can be filled with grief and loss, which I also experience, and honestly there are years that I don’t decorate my house at all. It’s okay to limit intake and care for your heart. I’m NOT talking about that.

What I’m talking about are the demands that a Unitarian Universalist congregation ignore Christmas as though it will ruin our humanist tendencies; this seems to me utterly disingenuous and in denial of our history, our grounding, our faith.

That beloved community we talk about? That was the core of Jesus’s message.

Inclusivity, grace, and a call to draw the circle wide? Check out Jesus’s sermon on the mount.

Overthrowing empire, patriarchy, greed, and corruption? That’s Jesus too.

Sure… we UUs recognize that it shows up in other faith traditions and sources of wisdom. It is a feature of our humanism. But if we are to be truly pluralistic, we have to recognize that in our spaces, there are people craving the message, craving the carols, craving the mention of one who taught us to put Love at the center.

I’m NOT saying it’s the only thing we should celebrate - far from it. But it is kind of a big deal in our culture and a foundational part of our faith tradition.

What would happen if you considered this holiday not from the place of your wounds, but from a place of curiosity? What if you could hold space for those who draw meaning from it, much as they draw meaning from sermons and songs and rituals that inspire you? What if you were able to put your heart in a holy place and bless others with the love and amazing grace that you, too, long for?

What would happen if you decided to not complain to your minister or religious educator or music director, and just let them do their jobs to minister to everyone in this anxious, tender, hopeful, pluralistic month?

Maybe it’s okay to be okay with the creche, and the carols, and the passing of the light. Maybe it’s okay to note that while, as Sophia Lyon Fahs wrote, “each night a child is born is a holy night,” that we can pause to reflect on the birth of this one child whose life-saving message is for us too. And maybe, while you’re lighting menorahs and calling in the sun and baking cookies and avoiding “Little Drummer Boy,” you can remember that all of this enriches our spiritual journeys and connections with one another.

Maybe it’s okay to bring tender hearts and tender intentions and make this a tender time for everyone.

As Peter Mayer sings,

Maybe peace hides in a storm
Maybe winter’s heart is warm
And maybe light itself is born
In the longest night.