The Traditions we hold to

For me, it is not Christmas unless one sings Silent Night, Holy Night. It is my favourite Christmas carol ever!

But I have celebrated a few Christmases where I have not sung it.

In those instances, we were in churches where the service was in my native language, Tamil. I grew up learning to speak the language but cannot read or write it. So, it does prove challenging when you are inside a church holding a hymn book. While I can comprehend the majority of the service, I cannot participate in it in an embodied way. I cannot sing the songs or read the Scripture lessons.

I grew up attending many different denominations as a child. I was raised in the Church of South India but mainly went to a non-denominational church. During my high school years, we attended a Protestant church. During my years in college, I have been to Methodist, Anglican, Pentecostal, and even Assemblies of God churches. I am comfortable attending all of them. I can make my peace with the service, traditional, contemporary, or charismatic, knowing that no matter the denomination, we are all worshipping the same God.

But in 2021, I found myself in a church where I could not sing Silent Night. We visited India and attended church with my parents. I knew, of course, that the service was in Tamil, and I knew we were going as a family to celebrate together, but I was dragging my heels. My children do not speak fluent Tamil. They can read and write a bit but not sufficiently enough to keep up with traditional Tamil hymn books. So, I was also upset that I would not get the chance to sing the hymns I so badly wanted to.

Coming out of the pandemic, I wanted a sense of normalcy in my Christmas celebration. I wanted the traditions I was used to with life in the United States. I wanted to give my children exactly what they were used to, and I did not wish to change.

I wanted a Christmas service where I could precisely worship how I wanted. Nothing is worse than standing in service and watching others sing and participate. It is an awful feeling. But you also know others can see you just standing there and wondering why you are silent. It is embarrassing. So, I found myself sulking. I was standing in church on Christmas morn. I was supposed to be celebrating the birth of our Lord, but inside I sulked that I had to be there. I could have been at a church where the service was in English, and I could have participated.

But as I stood there looking at the faces around me, the voices raised in song, everyone dressed in their Christmas finery, the ladies with jasmine in their hair, gold bracelets on their arms, their silk sarees in jewel tones that softly moved with the early morning breeze, the sparking lights that shone from the trees which were decorated all around the churchyard, I couldn't help but see the joy in their faces. They sang with passion and enthusiasm. They were delighted to be in church celebrating Christ's birth. Yes, some young mothers looked tired with babies in their arms, older couples could not stand through the service, and the many volunteers were running around outside the church getting extra chairs and setting up the coffee. But they were happy to be there! They were there to celebrate Christ's birth, no matter the challenges.

I realized then that there is something supernatural and humbling about being in a worship service where you know everyone is praising God even when you don't understand the language. I could not be fully embodied in the service, but I could worship God, knowing that He was the reason for the season. In Him, I had hope and salvation. I could delight in the music; I could read the scripture lessons in English while the rest read them in Tamil. I could still understand the gist of the sermon even if I did not get every word. I could still celebrate Christmas in my heart, knowing I was there with my immediate and church family.

In a way, I could worship God in my heart by just watching others worship Him. I could rejoice with them. Christmas is always in our hearts. Christ was born for us, and He died for us. It would be Christmas on the 25th, and it would be Christmas on the 26th. I did not technically need the music and the carols to celebrate Christmas. I could still celebrate at the moment.

In his book True Worship, Vaughan Roberts says, "True worship never begins with our initiative. It is not about human beings trying to win favour from a reluctant God. It is always a response to God's initiative in sending Jesus to be our Saviour. It flows out of a grateful heart as we remember what God has done for us: it is 'in view of God's mercy.'"

I had wrestled against the worship during this Christmas service and felt frustrated. Still, if God sent Jesus to be our Saviour, then neither language, lyrics, nor comprehension was needed for me to celebrate my Lord.

During this season of Thanksgiving and Advent, we naturally turn to our traditions. We want to honor and celebrate in ways we are all used to. Our practices are comfortable for us. We pass it down from generation to generation. We feel displaced when we don't get to do things as we are used to. We sometimes rebel and try to control things to have them exactly as we want. We pass down the traditions and the expectations of them to our children.

But what if we tried something new? What if we tried to step out of our comfort zone? What if we intentionally changed our tradition? What then? Could we learn from that? Could we learn from someone else? What if we shook things up a little in our homes and families? What would we be able to teach our children? How would we grow?

Change is hard. Change is inconvenient, and change is uncomfortable. I do not like change; to be fair, I doubt anyone does. But change is the only thing that is constant in our lives.

This Advent, I encourage you to try something new. Try stepping out of your comfort zone bravely. Embrace something different. Break away from tradition. It will always be there when you want to return to it, but you might discover more profound delights and mysteries of God you never expected.