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December 2000
Christmas Thoughts 2000
Dear Friends,
For me, as it may be for others, it is easy to settle into a
routine. I establish a pattern for my days: my time of rising,
the path I walk, the evening’s occupation. Here, that means
I forget how different my life has been from those of the people
around me. Fortunately, a small event will remind me of my narrow
vision.
Last Friday evening I hosted a party. Attending were eleven young
staff members: one American, two Canadians, two Germans and six
Lithuanians. Not all knew the others well, so I decided to aid
the conversation as we sat in a circle eating. I asked, "What
is one thing that means Christmas for you, that you always think
of as part of your celebration?"
One answered lightly, "hot cinnamon rolls and coffee on
Christmas morning."
The next replied, "The Christmas Eve service for children."
So it continued until we came to a person of Russian heritage.
She answered, "Actually, nothing. My family is Orthodox.
Easter is much more important to us."
Never before this moment had I realized how culture-bound we
are to bring our ideas of Christmas pageants and decorations and
doing nothing public for Easter. More than half of our student
body is of Russian heritage.
Equally enlightening to me was the reply of another Lithuanian
woman. "The traditional Christmas Eve dinner with my parents.
Perhaps, it meant even more in Soviet times, when it was forbidden."
She continued, "Every year one of our neighbors would come
to tell my father, a doctor, about some ache or pain."
I laughed lightly, thinking that he wanted to join the celebration.
But I was stopped short by the immediate comment of another, "He
was KGB." "Yes," my friend agreed. "He was
trying to catch us in celebration."
"What would happen if you were caught?" someone asked.
The answer was a sobering reminder of a life I could barely imagine.
"You could be thrown out of your job. Or something even more
serious because my father was officially a member of the Communist
Party." Remembering that her father was later sent to Siberia,
I understood the blessings of my free life and the limits those
blessings have placed on my understanding of others.
Later, talking with an American friend planning Christmas decorations
for the college, I realized my naivete again.
"I suggested stars on the doors," she said, "thinking
to use a more Christian symbol than snowflakes."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea," responded
a student. "During Soviet times, there were stars everywhere.
They give many people bad feelings."
"The whole committee," explained my friend, "responded
together after a silent moment—‘No stars.’ What
a sign of all that we outsiders do not know."
I thank God for a life in which the star is a sure sign of the
coming of the Christ child and God’s desire for me to share
in that blessed occasion, led so clearly to the manger. But perhaps
I thank God more for these moments when I realize how I am blessed
and why I am in this place, helping it, in a small way, to grow
again in joy.
Thank you all for your prayers and all the other ways that you
support me. Did you know I have a Web page? It’s in the "People
in Mutual Mission" part of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
Web site. I’ve written another letter at the same time I
wrote this—it’s about the incredible changes and challenges
that we are dealing with at Lithuanian Christian College. You
can read it if you visit: http://horeb.pcusa.org/mc/profiles/bartzj.htm
Peace!
Jackie Bartz
The 2000 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, page
85
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