This Saturday at 5:30pm, we offer a Blue Christmas service. It breaks up our routine, a bit, to be sure. We try to join in the chorus of the “hap-happiest season of all,” as Andy Williams insisted. It is for some. Others, not so much. Yes, every once in a while, the church will reiterate its hospitality to the whole human spectrum of feelings, recognizing not everyone comes to worship with the most positive life vibes for whatever the reason might be. Sometimes various portions of our worship help, including times for healing with anointing of oil, or other ministry groups will fulfill that pivotal role for those struggling. But during this season of nights and emotions and memories charged with nostalgia all magnified to the extreme, perhaps the church needs to intentionally offer a time and space to bare our soul before God, in a sense.
That isn’t to say come the end of the worship on Saturday, that everyone will walk out singing Andy Williams. Instead, we insist on doing our part to embody Emmanuel: God with us through it all, and God means…through…it…all. There will be an opening call to worship, insisting that everyone is welcome just as they are, no matter what they’re bringing within them into the sanctuary. There will be a different way of lighting the Advent wreath, recognizing that hope and peace and joy and love as each candle symbolically represents, doesn’t come easy for everyone. There will be a Scripture reading and short reflection, a couple songs sung, prayers spoken. And then we’ll offer Communion for those who desire to partake: the ultimate embodiment that nothing can separate anyone in that sanctuary and those anywhere else, from the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord. During that time, we’ll also offer our anointing of oil, again, for those who desire, so that they may feel that nothing is beyond God’s care.
Most communities of faith will offer such a service on the Longest Night, the Winter Solstice, which would be Sunday, December 21, as a symbolic gesture, of sorts, to those who feel as if they are in the midst of a darkness that cannot be overcome. And yet, we believe Christ insists otherwise. So, in the meantime, we offer this blessing from Jan Richardson:
All throughout these months
as the shadows
have lengthened,
this blessing has been
gathering itself,
making ready,
preparing for
this night.It has practiced
walking in the dark,
traveling with
its eyes closed,
feeling its way
by memory
by touch
by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.So believe me
when I tell you
this blessing will
reach you
even if you
have not light enough
to read it;
it will find you
even though you cannot
see it coming.You will know
the moment of its
arriving
by your release
of the breath
you have held
so long;
a loosening
of the clenching
in your hands,
of the clutch
around your heart;
a thinning
of the darkness
that had drawn itself
around you.This blessing
does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows
its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots
along the path,
knows what it means
to travel
in the company
of a friend.So when
this blessing comes,
take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road
you cannot see.This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.
In Christ,
Pastor Brad