I’m new to the world of Christingles. And a bit boggled by symbolic oranges.
Maybe this tradition hasn’t yet scaled the walls of Canadian Presbyterianism. Or maybe I’ve been sheltered. But Christingles are all the rage over here in the UK. Not in a 
trendy way. Rather as something deeply entrenched into church traditions, an essential symbol for Christmas.
A Christingle is a glorified flaming orange. A symbol of God’s love. (Didn’t I tell you that Christmas was weird?) It’s a Moravian tradition, the early Protestant church in Bohemia[i]. The story of the first Christingle service is quite touching. On December 20, 1747, the minister, one John de Watteville, conducted a children’s Christmas service in his church. He gave each child a ribboned candle and spoke of the great happiness we can have because of the birth of the Saviour. This was his prayer:
“Lord Jesus, kindle a flame in these dear children’s hearts, that theirs like Thine become.”
The service evolved, as these things do, to include oranges and larger symbolism. Here we go:
The orange represents the world. The red ribbon is the love of God. The four sticks with their dried fruit and candy represent the fruits of the earth and the four seasons. I’ve also read that they are the four directions, and/or the four gospel accounts. With any symbols there can be wiggle room. But the candle is indisputable; it represents Jesus Christ, born among us as Light of the World.
We are having our Christingle service this Sunday at church. The children will leave the church at the usual time to troop down to the hall where they will each construct their own Christingles. Then, at the end of the service, they will return to the sanctuary together, the Christingles will be lit, and it will feel like Christmas for everyone.
Because we’re a bit of a mixed community, and some internationals like myself may have missed out on early learning Christingle-wise, I think that I will go through the symbols during the children’s story. To that end, I am making a giant Christingle. Okay, not that giant. Though I did think about finding a pumpkin. But instead, I turned to papier mache. One typical balloon shape. Four chopsticks affixed with egg-carton bobbles, painted various hues. A red candle that will likely stay unlit. And lots of orange paint.
There is always the risk, when doing ministry with children, that a fun and quirky idea is actually quite lame and too much work for the point. I may be walking the line here.
And spending too much time constructing my Christingle, I have also fallen into plenty of musings about how traditions take wing. This all started with a minister trying something new and simply handing out candles. Now, I need cue cards to keep my symbols straight. I don’t know which is better. Maybe the richness of the symbols sows seeds for the children that will be fruitful later. Maybe the piles of metaphor are too confusing, and all the children will remember will be sneaking the candies. Or maybe, regardless of the symbols, the children will remember walking into church together and feeling part of something exciting. Maybe they will remember joy and something to do with love and beauty. Maybe that’s enough.
[i] The Moravians were the ones who gave us the wonderful vision of an ecumenical spirit: “in essential things, unity; in doubtful things, liberty; in all things, charity”. There’s a great slogan for you. Something to tattoo onto new graduates from seminary.
