Conversations in Grief Blog: Blue Christmas
Blue Christmas
by Laura Wessels
When you are grieving, the sounds of Christmas may be discordant and off-key. The bells, music, and greetings may feel as irritating as nails on a chalkboard, bringing more despair rather than joy. “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” may have you diving under the bedcovers at home.
“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you; I’ll be so blue just thinking about you,” are the lyrics that resonate with the bereaved. This sentiment is the impetus for many churches to create space in the December calendar for a Blue Christmas or Longest Night worship service. This reflective service offers relief to those who are bereaved. It gives them a place to mourn who and what they are missing, and to be comforted.
You can be your authentic, grieving self at a Blue Christmas service. You are sad. You are missing your loved one. You want the holiday season to be over. You can pray, sing, and cry your sorrow with others who share your sorrow and are crying, too. Reverend Carina Schiltz, pastor of Immanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church (Watertown), explains what happens at her church’s annual Blue Christmas service, “Vulnerability is welcomed. No fake smiles have to be pasted on in order to participate. There is no pressure to have a ‘holly, jolly’ anything. Christ accompanies us in our grief, and this service makes space to acknowledge that the Messiah was born into difficult circumstances and times. On this night, we rest, sing, listen, and hear the promise once again: God's love in Jesus Christ is born into this beautiful and broken world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.”
The word for this is “lament.” Lament is a prayer of complaint to God, or however you understand the Divine. As someone who is grieving, you often find yourself surrounded by well-meaning people who offer platitudes. “God needed another angel.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “You should be grateful that they’re no longer suffering.” Their attempts at comfort leave you even emptier and more alone, both misunderstood and silenced. Lament gives you a voice, a language to express disappointment, sorrow. “I feel forsaken by you, God. My tears are my food night and day. Why?” These are words lifted from the Bible.
If you live in southern Wisconsin, the following Blue Christmas service is offered:
Blue Christmas Contemplative Worship on Monday, December 15, at 6:30 p.m., at Immanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church, 209 N. Ninth Street, Watertown, WI. Contact the church at WatertownImmanuel.org or (920) 261-1663.
Do your own search for a Blue Christmas/Longest Night service in your community. If you cannot find a service, create space to lament privately. The purpose of lamenting is to despair and to hope at the same time. Light two candles for your despair and your hope. Blow one flame out, communicating your despair over who or what you have lost. The extinguished flame represents your loss. The candle that continues to burn represents your hope, your hope in a God who comforts and understands, your hope that proclaims your loved one will live in memory, and that your love for the one who is now gone will not be snuffed out. There are verses of Christmas songs that also fit with your grief. “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” asks for God to come and be with us in our despair. “O Holy Night,” speaks of a weary world pining; a people lying pinned under a blanket of grief. “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” paints a world solemn and still, a world sad and lowly, bent by life’s crushing load. “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” speaks of despair and belief that there is no peace on earth. Claim the lighting of candles and the singing of Christmas carols for your Blue Christmas.
Instead of a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Blue Christmas, as you mourn and remember.