Because they did not want to attract the attention of the secret police, who still kept an eye on the Christians, the people of the village decided to keep Christmas early December that year, before loads of snow would make the roads almost impassable in the Northern part of the Soviet Federation.
For this occasion, Anna Sinyavshy and her boyfriend Sasha had chosen a house that was situated at a spot far into the woods and from where you could see everybody coming. Humanly speaking, they found it safe. They knew that in spite of all the talk in Moscow about “glasnost,” the names of the Christians were jotted down by KGB-agents, who could use them later any time.
Therefore also their church had remained underground…
The congregation counted sixty minors all told. The minister, who dressed himself like a farmer, had recently become thirty years old. The four older brothers of Anna had been in a psychiatric prison, because they had been caught spreading booklets with the Gospel according to Matthew. The judge had told them they had to be cured of their “brain disease” by psychiatrists of the government…
The father of Sasha had been in a camp for hard labor in Siberia a long time, because he had been unemployed for a fortnight and so the police entered him in their books as a vagabond, a work- shy good-for-nothing, who had to be taught to use his hands. All the other members of the congregation knew that this was a lie, but he had never made a secret of his faith…
As a result, these men would not come home for Christmas. They did not trust the assurances in the newspaper about the new freedom of religion; there was not enough proof around to let down their watchfulness…
Anna saw that about fifty children of different ages quietly found a place at the planks, which were supported by piled-up old bricks, in the big living room of the decayed building.
On the beams above them two paraffin lamps were suspended. Anna had covered up the windows with cardboard and pieces of threadbare curtains, so that nobody outside would see the light…
The minister said, “Children, you know that the police will not be pleased if they hear about our Christmas Eve celebration and harass me. Therefore, tell nobody that we have been here tonight. This is our very own observance of the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord. It is our secret. Agreed?”
The children nodded yes.
After this he told them the whole story about what happened in Bethlehem and surroundings centuries ago, as it is written in the Scriptures. Outside the first snow started to fall…
Anna threw with caution two more big blocks of wood on the fire. She saw all the faces of the children listening, clean, excited, some of them with knitted woolen caps on their heads. She saw healthy red cheeks as well as fearful hollow eyes. One suppressed a coughing fit with his hanky.
In the background there were the women, mothers with head shawls. Outside were the fathers, who were keeping a good watch, tucked away between the trees and bushes…
Fyodor Lenskov kept watch over the door, which he kept locked, but he wanted to hear the Christmas-message again…
When the children started singing, the mothers as well as Anna joined them. It was wonderful for all of them to hear the well-known songs again. The faces showed a very special joy and happiness, which made them forget fear and sorrow.
Anna felt her eyes brimming with tears because of emotion.
The minister said, “Jesus Christ is still the greatest gift of God to us.”
He had written the words of the songs on big pieces of paper and held these up in the air for those who did not know them.
There was no organ, no orchestra, no choir conductor, but there was faith, joy, hope and thankfulness.
There was God, the Omnipotent, the Almighty, the All-Powerful, with His grace, His Love and His fidelity, that passes all understanding…
It was like a mixture of the past and the present, glad and sad memories coming together in the shadows of the room, and the light of the Glad Tidings shining over all…
Anna extended a helping hand with distributing the small bags with apples, walnuts, dried pears and lumps of sugar, carefully selected and affectionately brought together.
The children understood; their parents sacrificed this because they loved them. It was a tradition for several generations which one day they would continue themselves.
Far away in the Kremlin in Moscow, Christmas was not recognized and never mentioned…
The mothers put ingredients aside a long time in advance, to be able to bake cookies for the celebration. It was difficult to get flour and fat, you had to bargain; the shops were empty most of the time…
Only a few families had a Bible, and kept it at a safe place.
Religious literature was more scarce than blankets and sheets…
In the center of the village stood the ruin of the church, moss-grown, a playground for birds and rats. The generals in the Kremlin had given it back to the Christians, without compensation and without building materials for restoration. It helped the people to remember the martyrs for the faith…
For Anna, Sasha, Fyodor and all the others, it made Christmas the more important in their lives, strong in the faith and still watchful. The enemy could come back…
J.P. de Klerk lives in Ashhurst, New Zealand and is a member of the Protestant Reformed Church of New Zealand.