From Beliefnet.com:
Day Nine:
Mormon Christmas Traditions
Sing, choirs of angels
Sing in exultation
Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above
While Latter-day Saints don't observe Advent, they've developed their own set of Christmas traditions. Stop by a Visitor Center near one of the Mormon temples during December and you're likely to see massive illuminated displays, intricate outdoor Nativity scenes, or elaborate gingerbread villages. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir has recorded Christmas carols with top performers around the world.
A Mormon Christmas
After I converted to Mormonism, would I have to give up beloved wintertime rituals?
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I stood Christmas Eve in the sanctuary, spotlights directed at my tinsel halo and white robe. I was 9, a good little Midwestern Methodist girl, one of two Christmas angels assigned to deliver the Luke 2 lines: "Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people..."
I opened my mouth - and completely froze. The other angel, undaunted, delivered the line beautifully while I stood there in complete silence, a heavenly Teller to her Penn.
Later while relinquishing my wings, I agonized over my less than celestial debut. The Sunday school president smiled and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Don't worry. You just had a mental block. All actors get them once in a while." I look back on the pageant with fondness, on that church community with warmth, and on that good woman with particular affection.
During my college years in Boston I joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, a group that has never developed Christmas worship traditions. Would I learn any new Christmas rituals? Would there be any substitute charm in this new environment? I loved my Protestant Christmas seasons. What would I have to give up?
As it turned out, not much.
During many years in Boston, I saw Christmas pageants in Mormon wards where children forgot lines, waved to their mommies and upstaged baby Jesus. I miss an institutionalized Christmas Eve program with little candles with drip shields, choir robes and processionals down a central aisle, but I have discovered there is lots of leeway for local initiative. Mormons in the Boston area do a bang-up job for the Christmas season.
For years, singers in the ward bundled up to carol in Louisburg Square on Beacon Hill. Carolers from many Christian traditions strolled in little clusters making this look like the quintessential Victorian greeting card - wonderful music backlit by the glow of wrought iron gas lamps, a tickling snowfall, appreciative Brahmin faces smiling in the steamy windows of their red brick town homes. One year, so I hear, a TV newscast looking for local color homed in on the Mormon group singing "Far, Far Away on Judea's Plains," our unique and lovely contribution to Christmas hymnody.
Another Christmas tradition that persists in one suburban Boston-area ward begins as early as New England's apple crop. The young men and women of the ward take orders from members for apple pies. On one long, fragrant, gooey night the teenagers make and deliver the pies. The proceeds help buy toys the needy children of the inner city ward.
There have been memorable Christmas events here in the past - a majestic musical program, complete with a processional set to "O Come, O Come Emmanuel;" adults-only Madrigal dinners; and visits by the Sugar "Plump" Fairy tossing bonbons and pirouetting about the cultural hall.
Historically what happens in most LDS wards depends on a variety of factors - how invested the bishop is in music, who is activities chair, who likes kids included in parties, who prefers gala adults-only events, who is willing to tweak instruction and sneak in brass instruments, among others.
This year, our family will go to the Program of Lessons and Carols at Northwestern University. My seminary class will carol in my neighborhood. (Louisburg Square it's not, but it will do.) As a family we always celebrate Advent each of the four Sundays before Christmas - a tradition from my Protestant heritage. We read scripture, sing hymns and light candles sequentially in a wreath. On Christmas Day we may visit another church or just celebrate with family.
The lack of consistent church-wide programs is fine with me. I celebrate with my community both in their sanctuaries and in our chapels. I maintain traditions from my heritage that link me to my non-Mormon family in precious ways. I am connected to the whole Christian community.
And now that I'm an adult, I'm prepared to celebrate the angel's good news: "I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people...."
The Light House
A Christmas tradition is kept alive by the spirit of kind neighbors.
BY: Karen K. Bjork
EmailShareEach Christmas season Anna and Rose looked forward to the family tradition of driving to the "light house," a farmhouse that was covered from top to bottom with Christmas lights. When it came into view, they would cry, "Drive slower!" "Turn around!" "Go back!" One drive past all the lights that blinked and winked and flashed and chased was never enough.
On the first day of December the girls were eager to see the light house again.
"Can we go to the light house tonight?" Anna asked.
"It's a little too early," Mom said.
"We'll go there when it's a bit closer to Christmas," Dad said.
Rose and Anna decided to go to their room and practice saying "ooh!" and "aah!" They wanted to be ready when the time came.
Finally, it was time to see the lights. The girls eagerly climbed into the car with their parents. As Dad drove, Anna leaned forward and sang, " `Jingle bells, jingle bells,' " in his right ear while Rose belted out, " `Now bring us some figgy pudding,' " in Mom's left ear.
"How about a little `Silent Night'?" Dad asked with a smile.
Looking down the street, Mom frowned and asked, "Are you sure you turned on the right road?"
"Of course," Dad replied.
"But I can't see any lights up ahead," Anna said.
"It's dark!" Rose cried.
"I wonder what could be wrong," Mom said.
"Maybe they got tired of stringing up all those lights," Dad said.
"I don't think so," Mom replied. "Just last week my friend Marsha said she saw Mr. and Mrs. Watt outside, and Mr. Watt was climbing up a ladder with some lights."
"I wanted to say, `Ooh,' " Rose said disappointedly.
"And I wanted to say `Aah,' " Anna said.
"Maybe they forgot to turn them on or they had to go away tonight. We'll come back tomorrow night," Dad said.
When the family drove to the farmhouse the next night, it was still dark.
Mom frowned. "I don't like this. I think there might be something wrong."
"Maybe they went away for the holidays." Rose sighed.
"Or maybe the light bill was too expensive," Dad suggested.
Anna whispered, "What if they died?"
Mom smiled and said, "I don't think so, dear."
The next day Anna and Rose were sifting through the newspaper to find the comics. Suddenly Rose exclaimed, "Look!" She pointed to a picture of the light house.
"Let me see," Dad said. Everyone gathered around him as he read, " `Families will have to miss the much anticipated tradition of viewing the thousands of lights at the country home of Mr. and Mrs. Watt. Mr. Watt is recovering from surgery at a local hospital. Mrs. Watt said, "Christmas won't be the same without all the folks driving by our place this year." ' "
Disappointed, Rose and Anna went to their room. But a while later they came rushing back with smiles on their faces.
"Remember when you and Dad helped build the school playground?" Anna asked Mom.
"And a bunch of other moms and dads helped?" Rose added.
With puzzled looks, Mom and Dad nodded their heads in agreement. Then, slowly, big smiles spread across their faces, too.
"Wouldn't that be a wonderful surprise!" Mom declared. "I'll call around and see if I can get us some help."
On the long drive home from the hospital on Christmas Eve, Mrs. Watt sighed as she caught sight of several light displays.
"Next year will be different, dear. We'll get the lights up for sure next Christmas," Mr. Watt promised.
"Oh, my," said Mrs. Watt, "there's a lot of traffic on our road tonight. Word must not have reached everyone that there are no lights this year."
As their house came into view, Mrs. Watt gasped. Every window, every door, and even the garden gate were strung with colored lights. Birdhouses, doghouses, pine trees, big barns, little barns, toolsheds, and even the silo were aglow with lights. Nestled in the snow, from the mailbox to the garage, paper sacks filled with candles lighted the pathway home. And a giant Christmas card hung from the front door that read:
"Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
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