“It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” The songs of Christmas all tell us so. Festive lights and foods and gatherings abound. A frenzy of gift-buying and house-decorating makes stores and pop-up ads and TV commercials proclaim “The Holidays!” and invite everyone into the spirit of it all with open arms. Our hymns declare that the Christ Child is born and all the faithful are to be joyful and triumphant, that the world is joy-filled and all heaven and nature sing.
Yet for many people, no matter how much tinsel adorns their surroundings, nor how deep is their faith in the Son of God, their spirits are bowed under the weight of grief or loss or even despair and hopelessness.
An acquaintance beams, saying, “All the kids are coming for Christmas this year!” And the dad who is facing the first Christmas after his son’s death barely musters a smile in return.
Facing a tangle of green wire and multi-colored LEDs, her anger and devastation surges again because of the out-of-control car that killed her wife – her dear wife who always put the lights on the tree.
Two parents stare at each other over the dinner table, heart-sick at the anticipation of their children for Christmas traditions that they can’t afford because the company “down-sized” them out of jobs.
The list goes on: divorce, terminal illness, addiction, dementia, bankruptcy, … fill in the blank. Grief and loss come in many forms, and Christmas celebrations are, at best, irrelevant and more often are just another source of pain.
A Blue Christmas Service (sometimes called The Longest Night Service) offers a place for those who mourn at Christmas to do just that. They are invited to gather and to be seen, their grief acknowledged.
In the northern hemisphere where I live, any winter evening service is done when it’s dark outside. Those who come walk not only in personal darkness, but also in literal darkness as they arrive. The following layout helps bring people in to sit and feel that darkness before walking with them in a journey towards the light.
To set up the worship space, line up five unlit candles along the front of the altar: four dark blue pillar candles on either side of a taller white candle in the middle. Place a table in front with boxes or buckets (empty paint cans work) filled with sand. To one side, place a basket of small white candles, like those used for the Candle Light Service on Christmas Eve but without the drip catchers. Between the basket and the sand, set up a long taper candle in a holder.
The service itself has a kind of Lessons and Carols structure.
Gathering
Begin by introducing the service and what it is. Then a call to worship names the sadness in the room and is followed by a prayer and a hymn.
Word
Four cycles of a reading, a hymn, a prayer, and the lighting of a blue candle follows. Each of these cycles names a type of grief or loss. Structure these cycles around the Advent themes, the loss of Love, Peace, Joy and Hope through various means. For example, the loss of Love may come in the form of the loss of a loved one to death, the loss of a relationship to divorce or an isolating illness like dementia or addiction. A hymn is sung, a prayer is prayed, then one of the blue candles is lit. Each candle has its own description and is read as the flame flares, as we do with our Advent candles each Sunday. A short spoken response to the candle-lighting concludes each cycle.
Ritual
This is the pivot point of the service, where we begin to turn towards the light. A hymn of light in the darkness may begin this section, followed by the reading of John 1:1-5, 14. The center white candle is lit, claiming the light of Christ as God’s promise to us. Each person is then invited forward to light one or more white candles and put them upright in the sand. The tapers on the tables are lit for this purpose. Lighting them from the Christ candle works well, both practically and symbolically. A prayer of hope that light will again shine into the dark corners of sadness concludes this section.
Sending
A litany of hope for a time that doesn’t feel so hopeless, rooted in the promise of the light of Christ, opens this section. A prayer with a similar theme, a closing hymn and a benediction round it all out. I have found that a Christmas carol works here, though “Joy to the World” didn’t quite hit the right tone one year. “Silent Night” worked much better and one year we included “Night of Silence” which was simply beautiful
Over the years, this service has become very dear to me. I admit I used to be rather irritated by the people who would tell me at worship on the Sunday following the Blue Christmas service, “I would have come, Pastor, but I know I would have cried the whole time.” I would very calmly tell them that I understood but perhaps another year they could see it as a safe place to shed those tears that so often are hidden. In my head, I was saying, “That’s the whole point of the service! I did it so you can have a safe place to grieve!” But I have come to understand that each one of these people, though they didn’t attend, know that their church acknowledged how difficult Christmas time can be and that not everyone is celebrating. Perhaps being seen in that way is enough.
Our lives are a mixture of darkness and light. Often the world doesn’t want to see the parts of us that are in pain, and so we grow lonelier and sadder still. As a church, we can be a haven where broken hearts can lament at a time of year when the world demands our holiday joy.