Newton was right

Today was Christmas I. In many churches this is the traditional time for a service of Christmas Lessons and Carols. It's that tradition in my two small congregations as well. I take a few days off after Christmas (see below), and I really don't want to write a sermon, so this service works well.

So there we were, going through the lessons at the first service. Everything was going just fine; that is, until I got up to read the final lesson from the Gospel of John.

It was at this point that the Christmas tree decided to fall.

On me.

Well, not directly on me, but close enough. Actually, Ms. Emily took the full brunt of the fall. Decorations scattered and broken everywhere. And some smart ass parishioner says, "I thought you said we were going to take the tree down next week?"

So I read the lesson, then we cleaned up and put the tree against the organ. Where it stayed until the Eucharistic Prayer.

"We pray you, gracious God, to send your Holy Spirit upon us and ..... CRASH ..... upon these gifts .... Oy."

Then it was off to the second service which went okay except that my real, live organist played all those joyful Christmas hymns like his mother just died.

"Good ...... Chris ..... tian ..... friends ..... re ..... joy ..... se ...."

Um ... NO!!!

This is a conversation I'm not looking forward to having this year, I think. He's beginning to slip up more and more frequently, and people are starting to talk about it.

So anyway ... back to the tree.

Newton was right . . . gravity wins.

And now I'm being referred to as Fr. Timber. And, to be honest, I had a hard time keeping a straight face through the rest of the service.

So . . . How was your first Sunday after Christmas?