It's hard to believe that our Blue Christmas service was less than a week ago. It wasn't something I would have been up to in the previous two years, but this year it felt just right ~ to suggest, to help plan, and to lead.
We created a simple service, based upon a liturgy we found online: Isaiah Advent readings alternating with the O Antiphons in the form of the verses of O Come, O Come Emmanuel, with a candle-lighting in which everyone was invited to participate. There were other prayers and readings and music, but I think that people were most moved by the quiet candle-lighting and the haunting verses cantored in a beautiful soprano voice.
Simple though it was, it was also a tremendous amount of work, and as we put it all together, I observed the process from the point of view of a hoping-to-be-called-pastor. I hope as well that someday I will be capable of exercising the kind of leadership that the pastors of my home church have, leadership that calls forth and supports the gifts of so many others in the congregation. Music director as organist, choir member as cantor, chair of worship ministry as co-planner and with another member that committee, designer of beautiful space, several other members as readers ~ and we all worked seamlessly together.
Insofar as the service itself was concerned, I had little sense of it from a participant's standpoint, but the emails that came afterward tell me that it was a great success. One of the readers said that she had been skeptical of a service devoted to sadness, but that afterward she felt freed up to engage in the remainder of the week. I realized that I felt much the same way. Something of a transformation for those of us for whom the Christmas season has been something to endure rather than to celebrate! Many others seemed relieved and even grateful for a place in which all those emotions which are generally deemed unacceptable, especially at this time of year, were articulated aloud.
I opened the service with some very brief remarks about the lunar eclipse that would take place a few hours later, saying that all of us there were like the moon: living in a circle of darkness and yet, whether we could see it or not, surrounded by a rim of light, a light that the darkness does not overcome.
And I think that we were indeed a little circle of insistent light, creative and hopeful in the face of the darkness of loss.
Beautiful. It all seems beautiful.
ReplyDeleteYes, Amen. I love the moon image-- powerful, stark and beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI'm so thankful that it was a fruitful service, and that your Christmas holiday sounds as if it's going better this year. God bless each member of your family with love and joy and peace.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds beautiful and still and gentle and healing, all stirred together...
ReplyDeleteMy dear friend--It is so heartening to read this from you. I have followed your struggle through the darkness of your grief; I often did not know how to offer comfort because you would not--could not--have it. I'm so grateful to see you at a place where you can look back and see some light where you saw only darkness...and trying to find a way to offer the guidance of your shared experience to others. In no way could I say, "It was worth it," or "It has given you such a rich opportunity for ministry.." But I think you are doing the best one can do when transformed by such an awful experience. Walk on, my friend...
ReplyDeleteI too feel connected to those who in the past have lost children. A year ago, we took the Flagler College tour and learned the same sad story you posted about, and identified strongly with his need to commemorate his daughter. In October we toured the Vanderbilt's summer cottage, (really a mansion) in Newport, RI, and learned that they also had lost two children and grieved them deeply. This Christmas I thought about the Virgin Mary watching her son being crucified, and even though resurrected, she never saw him again on earth once he ascended. That must have been very difficult, despite the associated miracles. We miss our children, no matter the circumstances.
ReplyDeletesorry, I meant to put this on your other post...but I am sure you figured that out. The Blue Christmas touched my heart even without being there. The liturgy was beautiful and perfect.
ReplyDeleteHope your time away is restful and refreshing.
I love what you said about the eclipse. I haven't been able to attend one of these services for about 9 years because I have been leading them, but I think next year if you offer this I will come, to be led. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMP, maybe next year we can attend each other's and care for each other -- though who knows where, right?
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