When I was a first year seminarian in Rome in 1990, I was encouraged to travel somewhere in Europe for a first Christmas away from home and country.
Someone suggested Prague, Chzeclslovakia would be a good destination since it was inexpensive. The Velvet Revolution had just occurred in 1989 and communism had been toppled. I set out with three other American seminarians. We had been given a contact that promised use of an apartment in Prague at little cost. We were greeted at the train station by a gracious woman named Elena who was middle aged and a university professor. She took us to her home, a simple flat in the outer ring of the city. She took us into her humble dining room and made us tea, and then identified the conditions of our stay: we were not to tell anyone under any circumstances we were seminarians; we were not to wear religious garb; and we were not to wear any religious jewelry while we were her guests. She gave us a key to the upstairs apartment and then got up to draw closed the drapes of the room and subsequently opened a closet door in the dining room that revealed a small decorated Christmas tree. She shared how she was a devout Catholic but also a member of the Communist Party publicly. She asked us if we could sing some Christmas carols and pray with her. To date, it remains the most moving Christmas tree I have ever seen.
That New Years Eve the local church was open for the holy day for the first time in decades. She encouraged us to attend but said she would wait longer to be sure the former government would not return to power. We attended a Mass that was overflowing into the streets with people celebrating exhilarating freedom with tears and prayers of joy. I remember praying for Elena who remained at home.
The other night (Tuesday, December 6) steady rain fell on those of us gathered in a Smith Street parking lot and we waited for Bishop Tobin to light the Christmas tree.
The feelings and memories of that week in Prague rushed back and I remembered Elena, her tree, her fear and her faith.
I wondered which was worse. Having to hide your tree or any public expression of faith from government authority or experiencing your own government and governor seizing the religious symbol under the guise of tolerance and redefining it by dictum and stripping it of any religious significance. The tree in Elena’s home (I’m sure in the front window by now) and the enormous Christmas tree in the city center of Prague in 2011 are religious symbols that witness to diversity, tolerance and hope. The Blue Spruce “holiday” tree now in the statehouse rotunda is foreboding to Christians and should be seen as so for all citizens of any or no faith. Unilateral disrespect for religious expression should be recognized and challenged, especially when it happens as a governor professes tolerance.
Father Marcel L. Taillon is pastor of St. Thomas More Parish, Narragansett
