Christmas in Natal

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.