Encircled by multiple positions the Holiest of Nights of
Earth was concussed by the fireworks discharging in sporadic busts. I waited
with three brothers under the dim light bulb of the front overhang of our
shared bungalow. We waited for the return of our Christmas caravan as we
shuffle together about the courtyard, mock fighting, dancing, and joking until
we sat down on the concrete beach. Brother Beno who is about fifty mostly
observes us. His white beard gives him a Santa quality if not for his gaunt
body.
He has taking to mumbling with a dance party rhythm, Sean –
Sean – Sean, every time he sees me and other times at random. This induces
other to break into muted dancing, it takes very little for Brazilians to start
dancing and there is a club song in Brazil now that is very popular that sound
much the same as my name; “Chao - Chao – Chao”.
An hour ago we decorated forty five places at the big table
for our big Christmas Dinner. I helped to place the silverware, candies,
fruits, and breads on the table and individual plates. I laughed to feel elfish
to facilitate the Christmas joy here in the neighborhood called Christmas
Village (Ville Natal). Two shimmering wrapped Bon-Bons, two Kit Kat like
chocolates, and cups of M & M with pink and white marshmallows adorned each
setting. On the table were fruit cakes and carved melons filled with peaches,
plums, other cut melon, and grapes. The
serving table was overflowing with empty wrappers and commercial sized candy
bags. In the kitchen Brother Beno pre-set the ham and turkey cutting some meat
up and reheating what was cooked before everyone else had left. I caught him
with a turkey leg and he made no eye contact and walked out the door, but stuck
his head in the door and tisked “mal menino” (bad boy) when I put a piece of turkey
breast to my mouth.
Now we waited on the bench and I listen to the rapid chatter
of a language in which I understand about fifty percent. Notably they never
seem to use the fifty percent I know when they address me, so it is nice to not
speak and just attempt to understand their overall conversations. I imaged the
group would come in at any time in the normal fashion of two or three at a
time, maybe singing and laughing. I stopped the conversation, “did you hear
them. I hear them, I think!” Everyone stopped and listened and gave me a funny
look and started to talk again. The fireworks salvo continued in the sky, some
whistling and popping and others color illuminating the sky.
A half an hour pasted, then an unmistakable choir of “Come
all Ye Faithful” drifted from the hill above. The Brothers hurried to the
chapel to light the candles, and Brother Rogue took a position at the bell
ringing it as if there was a fire. In a surprise to me came a procession lead
by vestment clad acolytes holding candle stands crowned with glass encasements,
a sister holding the a statue baby Jesus, more brothers in white garb waving
the smoking censer, and following behind a train of people in a messy two by
two column. I watched the elation on
faces in the crowd as they filed into the chapel as they mugged for the camera.
I walked in last to a room lite only with small candles grouped together in
front of a picture of the manger and star. It was a somber mood as a quiet
reflection was read out loud. I couldn’t
help to think the candles in the hay seemed a fire hazard, but Brazilians have
strong angles and my worry wasn’t going to help them. The communal prayer reached
a crescendo when they begin to speak to God out loud in a personal and chiasmic
fashion. I sat into a lotus position and reflected on the work of the day,
Christmas, my family, and a long list of things I was grateful for.
***
I was grateful for the morning of Christmas Eve, not distracted
with the impeding merriment and holiday. Any special day comes without our
thoughts to make them arrive, and we preoccupy ourselves in preparation and expectation
for the event as if waiting for a bell to begin. I was given notice the night
before that I would be helping the men in nursing home to shower and dress for
the day. It caught me as a beautiful experience to serve others on the day
before Christmas. The idea that all great holy men and woman in both the Christian
and Eastern Faiths saw humility and detachment from the things of the world as
a freedom, not as something we give up in heroic example. Yet as an example we
can see they struggled with the same mental and physical challenges to reject
the world and seek beyond. I like to think anyone that cares for others, which
in a small or a big way we all do, gives up a part of the world. It is hard for me to think about myself in an
act of immediate service, yet in idle time I can turn very quickly to judging
people or situations and thinking of myself.
Christ lived for us
God’s instructions for a noble life, and how simple in thought and challenging
in action to love without fear of the world, without allowing the limitations
of others to limit us, and to radiate joy in the present moment even in
suffering. It is faith that Christmas celebrates, faith that we are worthy of a
love that is given and presented to us freely. I sat and warmed myself in that
peace as the room settled into silence.
Still I glanced up on occasion to make sure the chapel wasn’t on fire.
***
Our evening prayer in the chapel ended and all of the
sisters flooded the kitchen to finish the last bit of preparation for the Natal
dinner. Everyone traded hugs and said “Feliz Natal”, “Merry Christmas”, or, to
the Paraguayans in the house, “Feliz Navidad”. It was about 10:30 PM, most of
us waited outside the dining room doors, only a handful of the sons were staying
up to join us, and our special guests were Sister Marisa’s family who drove 20
hours to be with her on Christmas.
I walked into the kitchen of hurried activity both because
of the last minute cooking and, with or without hot pans or knives in their
hands, everyone was still embracing. I slipped into the dining hall to get a picture
as everyone came in.
The doors were opened and the sons were sat first, some sadly
had there candy removed as diet restrictions, but quickly had a warm plate of the
traditional favorites set in front of them. The Christmas staples are much like
any families’ in the US. There was turkey, ham, potatoes, and various pasta
salads. Although, this is Brazil and rice and beans are served at every meal
but breakfast. Rice was served as creamy rice salad with beans in farina (type
of Flour) and pork cracklings. I cut a slice off the ham bone and was surprised
that in was not just a ham, but contained an inserted collage of smoked
sausage, carrots, green vegetables, and maybe chicken. They had three types of
mousse for dessert: Passion Fruit, Grape, and lemon. The grape mousse was a
medium shade of purple and reminded me of the Jello and marshmallow dish my Mom
makes every year called “pink stuff”. Perhaps next year we will have “purple
stuff”. Advent is a time of fasting for the Christmas Season and all candy and soda
was given up for the three weeks prior. Most of the Formandos, who are around
20, over indulged on sweets and it was hard not to notices they were humming
and high on sugar. The dancing at times became feverish, and I remained seated
to not be swept into the mass of madness.
The dinner ended and everyone helped organize and clean some
part of the kitchen or dining room for the next day. Instead of the glass
plates used for dinner we set out blue plastic ones and with the same loving
care the brothers arranged each one with fruits, breads, and candies for the
morning meal. It hit me to know that without the Fraternity of Missionaries
fuzzing over the sons that they may have no Christmas morning to-do, no clean clothes,
no one to feed them, or make engine noises behind them as they pushed them to
the dinner table.
I knew tomorrow would start the same as this morning with
the same sons being woken up, the same showers running, and the same coffee
being made – one with sugar and one without. Although Christmas morning the ordinary
blue plates will be filled, filled with the kindness that is in the hearts of
these beautiful Sisters, Brothers, and lay workers.
That the internal is there at times to behold externally.
