It had been a difficult several years for Father Petrov. They had laid several of the men of his congregation to rest as casualties of the War to End All Wars between 1914 and 1917. Then came the unrest which led to the October revolution where the Bolsheviks gained control and a pall of fear was cast over the community as the official position of the new government considered the Russian Orthodox Church as a symbol of the old allegiances to the Czar. Yet even last Christmas he had celebrated in a beautiful church in Moscow with an ornate iconostasis of golden painted saints and angels as incense hung in the air and the congregation sang the chants into the night to mark the night of the Savior’s birth. But as 1918 unfolded the new government began to make its mark on Moscow. Food was in short supply and so the leaders began to point to those who had formerly been nobles, the educated, and then to the ornate and beautifully domed structures of the Orthodox churches of the city. It had been a dreary October day when worship was interrupted by uniformed men who came in arresting Father Petrov and all who had dared to assemble on that day, torching the church and sending Father Petrov and his flock on the Trans-Siberian Railway to Irkutsk where they were marched along the shore of Lake Baikal to a bleak camp where they were officially to be reeducated, but it quickly became clear that ultimately they were moved to this land to be forgotten, to pass away in the Siberian winter.

Yet, despite the cold nights and inadequate shelter, Christmas arrived in 1918. There were no songbooks, no incense, no wall of icons or brightly painted walls of a church. Olga, one of his faithful members, had managed to grab seven candles and set them up in the large shed where the tools that were used for coal mining were stored. Father Petrov had a bible and as he carried his lamp to the shed where those who would celebrate this bitterly cold Christmas were gathered, he wondered what he would do without the rituals and relics of the church that had formed him for a style of worship that had endured for centuries. As he approached the shed, he looked to the lantern in his hand and thought of Jesus’ words about a lamp needing to be placed on a lampstand and not being hidden under a bushel basket, and so he found a small table and placed his lamp on it. More people than he had expected had gathered, others in the work camp seeking a small light in winter, a taste of hope in the hopelessness, a reminder of a different world, and perhaps they looked to each other in this land of the forgotten for another soul to see them and remind them that they mattered.

Father Petrov breathed in the cold air and began with the words from John’s gospel, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Then he lit the first candle and said, “and we are witnesses to that light.” Little Anya, who had seen far more than any young child should see in the last months, echoed Father Petrov’s words, “we are witnesses to that light.” And slowly at first and then in rapidly increasing numbers the remainder of the gathered congregation echoed, “and we are witnesses to that light.” Then Olga, Anya’s mother, read from the prophet Isaiah how, “The people who lived in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.” Then Olga lit the second candle and said, “and we are witnesses to that light.” This time the community responded immediately and with more force, “and we are witnesses to that light.”

Anya now stepped up beside her mother and said the words she had been practicing for this night, how the prophet Isaiah continued saying, “Unto us a child has been born, unto us a son is given, and the government will be upon his shoulders, and he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. Great will be his kingdom, and there will be endless peace.” Then Anya lit the third candle and with the boldness of a child proclaimed, “and we are children of God’s son.” The congregation with a little bit of joy at seeing the faith of a child echoed, “and we are children of God’s son.”

Then Rita came forward to tell of how the angel Gabriel came to Mary one fateful night and told Mary, “Do not be afraid.” How often God’s messengers came to God’s people in scary times and told them not to be afraid but before she continued on she brought out from her coat an icon of the angel Gabriel that she had saved from the church before it had been destroyed, and she told of the angel’s message of the virgin Mary and Mary’s words in response, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then Rita lit the fourth candle and said, “And we are servants of the Lord.” The community echoed, “And we are servants of the Lord.” Then Rita’s husband Jusef came and told of Joseph, the father of Jesus, who was a righteous man trying to find a way between what God expected of him in the law and mercy for his betrothed Mary who was found to be with child, and how the angel of the Lord came to him in a dream and spoke again the words, “Do not be afraid.” And then explained to Joseph that the child to be born was from God and was the fulfillment of prophecy. “Look, the virgin shall become pregnant and give birth to a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” Perhaps we too need to hear in this godforsaken place that God has not forsaken us, indeed God is with us. And then lighting the fifth candle Jusef declared, “And we serve the God who is with us.” And the community echoed, “And we serve the God who is with us.”

Then Victor came forward and he also took from his coat an icon that had been one from his home, an icon of the Christmas scene, and he told the story from the gospel of Luke of Joseph and Mary coming to Bethlehem and finding no place other than a shed, perhaps not unlike the shed they gathered in that night, and the child was born to them, unseen by relatives or most of the world. But how in the night the angel of the Lord came to shepherds and again told them, “Do not be afraid.” And the angel told the good news of great joy for all the people he had been entrusted with and told these shepherds how to find the child and its parents. How the heavenly host broke into song and the shepherds in their amazement went to find Mary and Joseph and the child promised to them, and described their amazement to anyone who heard, and how Mary treasured these things in her heart. Then Victor said, “And we too treasure these things in our heart.” He lit the sixth candle as the congregation echoed, “And we too treasure these things in our heart.”

Finally, Sophia, the oldest living member of the community at seventy-five years old, came to the front and turned to the gospel of John. She said in a clear voice, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” She lit the final candle and said, “And we are servants of that light.” To which the congregation responded, “And we are servants of that light.” Father Petrov gave a final blessing in the cold winter night and summarized how we were indeed servants of the light who brings light to people living in darkness, who promises us a child who will lead us into a time of peace, who tells his servants not to be afraid, how even in godforsaken places how our God is with us, how we too can treasure these things in our hearts, for the one who was with God in the beginning at creation is here among us bringing light and life into our darkness. He uttered a final blessing for this flock gathered in the shed and then they made their way back to their barracks where they would attempt to shelter from the piercing wind blowing over the lake. But as the left they carried with them a little hope in what before had seemed hopeless, and a small light in the winter.

This story has historical elements, but it is a fictional story. The place and time are real, but the specifics of the situation and the characters only existed in my imagination prior to this night. May this Christmas story from a cold and dark world bring a little light into your season.