The Longest Night
Bereavement "Blue Christmas" Prayer Service
St. Mark’s Medford (OR)
Thursday, Dec. 21, 2023
The Rev. Fr. Anthony Hutchinson, Ph.D., SCP
We use Sarum Blue as our Advent Color here at St. Mark’s, not for its “blue holidays” overtones, but for its honoring the Blessed Virgin. But our annual “Blue Christmas Service,” held on the longest night of the year, December 21, does indeed try to address the grief and bereavement some of us feel as we enter into a time where it at times seems de rigeur to be joyful and happy, even though we may not feel it at all.
When I was about thirteen, I went into an adolescent depression that lasted several weeks. I was unhappy with myself and the world. Like the clothes and shoes I was always growing out of, things in general just didn’t feel like they fit. My father took me aside and asked what was wrong. When I said “everything” but couldn’t point to any one specific thing, he said, “That’s alright Tony. You’re growing up, and growing up means realizing we don’t fit completely in this world. What most don’t see is that we came from God, and go back to God when we die, and as wonderful as this life is, we are made for someplace else, and won’t feel completely at home until we get there.” Since he had told me that it was OK to be not OK, it comforted me, and I came out of my blue funk.
Made for someplace else: ill at ease, and not wholly belonging here. The idea is found in the story of Israel. Exodus says that when Moses was in hiding before his call, he and his family were aliens in Midian: His son says, “I am a stranger in a strange land” (Exod 2:22).
At year’s end, we look backward and forward; memory and expectation are mixed. At one extreme, we might feel regret for the past year and fear for the coming one; at the other, our hearts might be filled with gratitude and hopeful anticipation. The Advent liturgies point us to look for the second coming of our Lord even as we reflect back on his first coming. But like much of life, most of us feel somewhere in between.
Some say that horror and suffering, grief and death, are signs of why we should not believe in God. But I think that they are the first evidence of the existence of God. Why should we be so upset and uncomfortable at horror at all? If this world were all there was, why would we be so revolted at something that clearly is part of the deal? Our discomfort tells us that we were made for something better than what is before our eyes. The fact that we simply cannot accept it tells us that the image of God within us expects something better, kinder, and more lovely.
Most of us here today have all lost loved ones recently or at this time of year. Grief is closely related to regret and fear, but this need not be so.
In thinking about bereavement and grief, I was reminded of a wonderful poem by John O’Donahue.
Though we need to weep your loss,
you dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
where no storm or might or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
brightening over our lives
awakening beneath the dark
a further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
found for us
a new music
that brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
quickened in the joy of its being;
you placed smiles like flowers
on the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
with wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
from the old distance of our names;
now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
as close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
beside us when beauty brightens,
when kindness glows
and music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
darkest winter has turned to spring;
may this dark grief flower with hope
in every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
to enter each day with a generous heart.
to serve the call of courage and love
until we see your beautiful face again
in that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
and where we will never lose you again.
May all of us be set free from our blue demons. May we recognize that it’s OK to be not OK. May we see in our alienation here a sign of the glorious home for which we were made and for which we are bound. We will be reunited with those we love.
Dearest ones: Grace and peace, and a serene, and perhaps even a joyful, Christmas to you all. God bless us each and everyone.
No comments:
Post a Comment