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edenfallingI went to a solstice ceremony/service at church this evening. The Wednesday small-group ministry group has been putting it on for the past six years, and while I am not deeply moved by the results, I greatly appreciate that such a thing exists and would like it to continue existing next year.
It's basically a bunch of readings about seasons and light/darkness, interspersed with some communal singing and chances for people to share their hopes and fears for the coming year, and a candle-lighting session. Then we 'jump' over the 'burning' Yule log for good luck, after which we break for cookies and wassail.
I think I would find the service more meaningful if it included more music and fewer readings, and also if the candle-lighting were organized such that we end that part with everyone holding a candle rather than having banks of candles on tables at the edge of the room. But perhaps that is simply because that's what my childhood church's Christmas Eve services are like, and so I have an emotional attachment to such things. *shrug*
Also this year everyone received a partially sprouted narcissus bulb, as a symbol of hope and new growth. I don't have any potting soil in my apartment at the moment -- I used it all up repotting my snake plant last month -- but perhaps I can take my bulb to NJ and pot it there. It doesn't need to be dealt with right this very second.
...
The funny thing is that when I went to drop my wassail mug off in the kitchen, I somehow ended up washing all the dishes, even though I am not part of the Wednesday small-group ministry group and there was no formal call for volunteers. I think it's sort of a conditioned reflex at this point -- enter church kitchen, wash all the things -- because I have also had to forcibly stop myself from just diving in and taking over from members of the other three hospitality teams at normal Sunday services.
Ah well, there are worse reflexes to have. *wry*
It's basically a bunch of readings about seasons and light/darkness, interspersed with some communal singing and chances for people to share their hopes and fears for the coming year, and a candle-lighting session. Then we 'jump' over the 'burning' Yule log for good luck, after which we break for cookies and wassail.
I think I would find the service more meaningful if it included more music and fewer readings, and also if the candle-lighting were organized such that we end that part with everyone holding a candle rather than having banks of candles on tables at the edge of the room. But perhaps that is simply because that's what my childhood church's Christmas Eve services are like, and so I have an emotional attachment to such things. *shrug*
Also this year everyone received a partially sprouted narcissus bulb, as a symbol of hope and new growth. I don't have any potting soil in my apartment at the moment -- I used it all up repotting my snake plant last month -- but perhaps I can take my bulb to NJ and pot it there. It doesn't need to be dealt with right this very second.
...
The funny thing is that when I went to drop my wassail mug off in the kitchen, I somehow ended up washing all the dishes, even though I am not part of the Wednesday small-group ministry group and there was no formal call for volunteers. I think it's sort of a conditioned reflex at this point -- enter church kitchen, wash all the things -- because I have also had to forcibly stop myself from just diving in and taking over from members of the other three hospitality teams at normal Sunday services.
Ah well, there are worse reflexes to have. *wry*
