I sat down to Christmas lunch with people I had never met before. The guy next to me smelled of spray paint. His hands were covered with splashes of paint and they shook so much that he couldn’t hold the cup steady as soft drink was poured into it. I gathered that he hadn’t been decorating that morning. He said little and ate voraciously until he had his full and left without waiting for dessert.

One of the people that I ate with told me of her 94-year old mother who was still going strong, though deaf as a post. Apart from her, she and her daughter didn’t really have family in the state and so had planned to have sandwiches for lunch because everything else would have been too much trouble. An hour after lunch began a harried rumpled fellow rushed in and asked whether we were still serving lunch. I told him we were so he went out to share the news with his family who were waiting in the car. Husband, wife and three kids sat at a table and shared a feast with us. As did the lady who turned up mid-afternoon saying that she and her child hadn’t had anything to eat and could they perhaps have some dessert with us. We made up plates of food.

But the individual stories were less important than the room full of people sharing and eating together at Christmas time. Some were there because they had nowhere else to go. Some needed the food. Some just came for the company. It wasn’t pity, it wasn’t charity. Those of us who had helped prepare, organise and serve this meal to our community were there for the same reasons - the parent whose child was spending christmas with someone else; the couple whose family lived interstate; and those of us who were searching for a Christmas experience which was stripped of family disputes and arguments over whose turn it was to bring the potato salad.

Not everything went according to plan. One of the calico wrappings of one of the plum puddings caught on fire on the stove and, through lucky timing, was captured on video and will now find its way into the highlight reel when we show the rest of the church what we got up to. We had a gravy crisis which could only be solved through judicious use of a colander to remove the lumps. One lady, feeling like her offers of help weren’t appreciated, stormed out in a cloud of self-righteousness.

At the end of the day we handed out leftovers of cake and bread and salad to all that wanted it. Our lunch was possible as a result of donations (both financial and of goods) from many people in our church community. Many people donated their time on Christmas Day to help with the preparation and planning. In fact, at the end of the day we made a “profit” - money which will be used to cover the cost of requests for emergency food during the christmas season and beyond. This was our first Christmas community lunch and we served lunch to around 65 people.

For me, being involved in our Christmas lunch made all of the other demands on our time this Christmas somehow more bearable. Some of this is doubtless a crass display of pharisaical self-congratulations. I was less than industrious on the day. There were some that wanted to be the workers in the kitchen but I preferred to sit and chat to the people who came to share lunch, appreciating the lesson that my mother taught me long ago - that Christmas of all times is when we open our houses and our hearts to other people. I became conscious of the fact that asking about Christmas plans (so much a cliche’d small talk option over the last several weeks) is a painful and awkward question for many - leading to an uncomfortable silence. I heard stories of Christmas past, remembered with great nostalgia and fondness.

And I re-learnt the true meaning of the fact that God became flesh and pitched his tent amongst us.

UPDATE - you can see a photo of our lunch here. Thanks Lucy!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 28th, 2005 at 9:28 am by dan and is filed under Christmas, challenges for the church. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.