I wore a sari on Christmas Eve.

A sari is a strip of unstitched cloth worn by women in the Indian Subcontinent. The four to nine meter long material is wrapped around the waist, with one end then draped over the shoulder.

I’m not from India, Nepal or even Asia. Never visited either. I have pale, freckly skin. I don’t know any other language than midwestern English. OK, I occasionally throw out a Washington D.C. “you all” in place of “you guys”.  And I know Dora the Explorer Spanish. Oh, I guess I did take a few years of high school French but only because of the teacher’s reputation for being a pushover. That’s about the extent of my language acquisition.

So why a sari on Christmas Eve?

For several years now, I’ve collected Christmas ornaments and decorations using the words love, joy, and peace. In both superficial and deeply mysterious ways, these words seem to sum up much of what Christmas ought to be. I am often overwhelmed, however, by how much of our world has been imprinted with hate, sadness, and turmoil.

I’ve made some new acquaintances from Bhutan over the last few months. Rejected by two countries. Sent to this unknown country to learn a new language, culture, economic system and way of life. I struggle even to begin to understand or try to feel what they experience every hour of every day. This year as I was planning our Christmas Eve service, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it only seemed fair that these new friends might see and experience a little love, joy or peace. And that maybe the first step would be for them to feel that they belong.

So I spent Christmas Eve afternoon in a small apartment filled with people speaking around me in a language I could not understand. It took 4 ladies to dress me in a sequined, turquoise sari. I couldn’t get the hang of walking correctly and holding the plaits just so. And a sari may be beautiful but the airy, flowing material surely wasn’t made for Michigan winters.  It was all worth it, though, for the looks of surprised joy on each face as they caught sight of the sari once they realized who was wearing it.

I hope for a moment that they felt they belonged with us. I know I felt just a little like I belonged with them.