Service for the Longest Night, 21 December 2020

Service for the Longest Night, 2020
Rev. Teri Peterson, email tpeterson (at) churchofscotland (dot) org (dot) uk

O Emmanuel, our hope —
Come and save us, O Lord our God.

The Advent carol O Come O Come Emmanuel includes this refrain:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel will come to thee O Israel.

Sometimes, though, rejoicing feels out of reach. Especially in a season that is so often dominated by cheery lights and sparkly packages, if there’s anything dampening our joy, we may feel we have to hide it.

On this, the longest night of the year, I invite you to be honest with yourself, with God, and with others about the shadows. There is no shame in walking through the dark valley, no shame in carrying grief, no shame in wishing for a few moments of respite from celebration.

The rejoicing of O Come O Come Emmanuel is not the facade of cheer, it is a deep joy born from knowing the truth revealed in the rest of the line: Emmanuel, which means “God with us”. God is with us, and will always come to us even when we walk through the bleakest valley of shadows.

In the darkness we light a candle…
small, fragile, flickering sign of hope
for the road to Bethlehem seems far.
Light amidst the shadows
in the doorway of our hearts –
hearts that watch, and wait and yearn.
Deep in the dazzling darkness,
a spark, a breath,
a hint of Love’s presence.
In midwinter’s faded light we seek the Holy Child,
a glimpse of glory,
and find the God of all creation has crept in alongside us.

Hymn: In the Bleak Midwinter

O Root of Jesse, sign for all peoples,
all the world seeks your help.
Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.
In the midst of this life and its burdens,
we seek your strength,
growing new shoots out of dead stumps,
bringing forth life from the dark soil.
We have watered the earth with our tears,
and we long for your hand to reach out
with compassion and love,
to spring up hope.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel will come to thee O Israel.

A reading from the prophet Isaiah, the 9th chapter:

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onwards and for evermore.

Let us pray.

The night is long, O God, and morning seems far off. We look but cannot see — yet you neither slumber nor sleep, and even the night is as bright as the day to you. We place our hands in yours, trusting that you will lead us onward — through the night of longing, of uncertainty, of grief, of cautious hope. You came to be with us, bringing your light into every place. We pray that your grace would shine — gently for those who are in need of comfort, and bright and dazzling for those in need of a lamp to light the way of justice.

O Key of David, when you open the way, no one can close it again.
O Adonai, who appeared in the burning bush and the still small voice,
come, and with your outstretched arm,
lead those who dwell in darkness into your marvellous light.

We offer our prayers for those living under the shadow of fear — in places where violence is all around, or within. May your peace shine into every corner of the earth.
We offer our prayers for those who are exhausted from a long year of essential work, saving lives, keeping us fed and clean and safe and taught and cared for. May they rest in your hand, encouraged by our gratitude, cared for by our advocacy, and protected by our carefulness as they move us all toward the light of your new day.
We offer our prayers for those carrying the shadow of depression, anxiety, and other mental ill health. May they know your companionship and your love to help bear the load.
We offer our prayers for those whose tables have an empty place, whose daily lives have a shadow where a loved one once was. May they know your comfort in the midst of loss.
We offer our prayers for those whose bodies suffer, where pain casts a shadow over possibility. May they know your strength and compassion.
We offer our prayers for those who are weary, in mind, body, or spirit. Tend them with your loving kindness, and revive their hearts with yours.

Even as we await the change in earth and sun, longing for the lengthening of days, we remember those for whom the days begin to shorten. For those celebrating your incarnation at the height of summer, soon to slide toward winter’s chill. For those whose joy will be short-lived, as loneliness returns after the parties and presents are cleared away. For those whose gaze has turned toward light eternal, and for those who will walk in the valley of the shadow of death.

Hold us all in your heart, O God, that we may dwell in your peace forever.

O Morning Star,
splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness:
Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

Amen.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel will come to thee O Israel.

Listen now to Jan Richardson’s poem “Blessing for the Longest Night.” (© Jan Richardson from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief. janrichardson.com)

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.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

A reading from the gospel according to John, the first chapter:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Amen.

O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
O King of the nations, desire that binds us to one another,
You reach from beginning to end and create order for all things.
Come, reveal your kingdom among us,
and save us, your creation, fashioned from dust and breath.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel will come to thee O Israel.

Poem by Ann Weems:

Into this silent night
as we make our weary way
we know not where,

just when the night becomes its darkest
and we cannot see our path,

just then

is when the angels rush in,
their hands full of stars.

Go in peace.