A Liturgy to Mark the Start of the Christmas Season
by Douglas McKelvey
LEADER: As we prepare our house for the coming Christmas season,
we would also prepare our hearts for the returning Christ.
PEOPLE: You came once for your people,
O Lord, and you will come for us again.
Though there was no room at the inn
to receive you upon your first arrival,
We would prepare you room
here in our hearts
and here in our home,
Lord Christ.
As we decorate and celebrate, we do so to mark
the memory of your redemptive movement into
our broken world, O God.
Our glittering ornaments and Christmas trees,
Our festive carols, our sumptuous feasts—
By these small tokens we affirm
that something amazing has happened
in time and space—
that God, on a particular night,
in a particular place, so many years ago,
was born to us, an infant King, our Prince of Peace.
Our wreaths and ribbons and colored lights,
our giving of gifts, our parties with friends—
these have never been ends in themselves.
They are but small ways in which we repeat
that sounding joy first proclaimed by angels
in the skies near Bethlehem.
In view of such great tidings of love announced
to us, and to all people, how can we not be moved
to praise and celebration in this Christmas season?
As we decorate our tree, and as we
feast and laugh and sing together,
we are rehearsing our coming joy!
We are making ready to receive the one
who has already, with open arms, received us!
We would prepare you room
here in our hearts
and here in our home,
Lord Christ.
Now we celebrate your first coming, Immanuel,
even as we long for your return.
O Prince of Peace, our elder brother,
return soon. We miss you so!
Amen.
A Liturgy for Setting Up a Christmas Tree
by Wayne Garvey and Douglas McKelvey
O Great Giver of All Good Gifts,
I sit amongst rolls of wrapping paper,
tissue, bags, and bows—presents spread before
me, ready to be concealed in shrouds of joyful
mystery, and nestled for a time beneath the tree.
This brief veiling of gifts from
the wondering eyes of those
who will receive them
is an act intended to heighten
excitement, and to kindle hopes—hopes
that might find fulfillment when these
festive secrets are finally revealed.
There is always in us that
which delights in surprise.
And while these gifts might provide a passing
happiness, I pray they would also stir the
hearts of their recipients in some deeper way,
as small echoes of a greater grace.
For you first lavished upon us your
astonishing love in the person of Jesus.
You wrapped your gift, O God,
in the form of a baby. And then,
in that baby-become-man, you
unveiled glory upon glory:
Miracles. Marvelous words.
Deeds of compassion and mercy.
Strong promises. Death defeated.
Life eternal.
The revelation of yourself as a dear father,
longing to adopt us orphans as daughters and
sons! Indeed “We love, because God first
loved us!” In our giving of Christmas gifts
we but seek to imitate your generosity.
So let our stumbling attempts
to mirror the eternal charities of
your own lavish heart, be undertaken
in a spirit of glad celebration
and as an act of worship.
Christ, you are the gift of God who gave all,
gives all, is all. So let these my small presents
be offered in great love, and received as
humble expressions of a holy hospitality, and
reminders of a divine kindness.
HERE THE READER MAY WISH TO PRAY SPECIFICALLY FOR EACH LOVED ONE AS THEIR GIFT IS WRAPPED.
Now may the lives of all your children be
ever more marked by a loving generosity
manifest in daily acts of practical service
to others, O Lord.
And may my own heart in particular
be kept less and less like a wrapped
and sealed mystery,
but be freely offered instead
as an open gift through which
the radiant love of Christ
is made ever more visible.
Amen.
A Liturgy for the Good Work of Waiting (Advent Version)
As my life is lived in anticipation
of the redemption of all things,
so let my slow movement in this line
be to my own heart
a living parable and a teachable moment.
Do not waste even my petty irritations, O Lord.
Use them to expose my sin and selfishness
and to reshape my vision
and my desire into better, holier things.
Decrease my unrighteous impatience,
directed at circumstances and people.
Increase instead my righteous longing
for the moment of your return,
when all creation will be liberated
from every futility in which it now languishes.
Be present in my waiting, O Lord,
that I might also be present in it
as a Christ-bearer to those before and behind me,
who also wait.
As I am a vessel, let me not be like a sodden
paper cup full of steaming frustration, carelessly
sloshing unpleasantness on those around me.
Rather, let me be like a communion chalice,
reflecting the silvered beauty of your light,
brimming with an offered grace.
Amen.