The Pain and Release of Grief
Once again, for those of us who live in the Northern hemisphere, our nights are getting longer, and darkness is all around. With the arrival of winter’s low dark sky, communities around the world look to the miracle of light as a sign of rebirth and a source of hope. I do not think it is an accident that the holy days and holidays we celebrate this time of year focus on how to live in the darkness while waiting for the light to return:
In the Hindu tradition, the Festival of Lights was observed in late October. In Celtic tradition, Samhain was observed in late October and celebrated the harvest and the coming of winter. It’s the precursor to the American holiday of Halloween which overlaps with the Christian traditions of All Souls’ Day and All Saints’ Day when people remember their ancestors and light candles for them.
Right now, in the Christian calendar, it is the season of Advent, the season that anticipates Jesus’ birth and the coming of his light. On the four Sundays before Christmas Eve, a candle is lit that represents hope, love, joy, and peace.
Our Jewish friends will celebrate Hanukkah beginning December 18th and the miracle of how the candles burned for eight days when really there was only enough oil for one day.
In Pagan circles, people will gather on the longest night of the year, also known as the winter solstice, to celebrate the “coming of the light.”
And joyfully, there is Kwanzaa, the first specifically African-American holiday, which begins on December 26th. It is a seven-day celebration, marked by seven candles of light, which honors the seven principles of African heritage and culture: unity, self-determination, working together, supporting each other, purpose, creativity, and faith.
These holidays and holy days remind us in images, rituals, and stories, that dawn will come again. It may be achingly slow and almost imperceptible but, incrementally, the day does return.
I have found over the years in my own spiritual journey and in my practice of spiritual direction/companionship, that it is helpful to tend to the darkness. That probably sounds kind of strange, and it’s deeply unfashionable, but when it comes down to it, glossing over darkness and winter, pretending that they don’t exist, or trying to move through them in the same rhythms we moved through spring and summer, can actually harm our spirits, bodies, minds, and souls.
Many years ago, I began creating Blue Christmas services for the congregations I served. During this season carols proclaim, “Joy to the World” and “It’s the most wonderful time of the year / With the kids jingle belling / And everyone telling you ‘Be of good cheer.’” Yet, holidays are difficult for many people, for many reasons. The winter holidays are much messier and more complex than TV commercials and Hallmark movies would have us believe.
Soon we will experience the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Winter solstice. This time has been called the “long dark night of the soul”, “the winter of our discontent” in which memories of past experiences and the pain of present experiences can become overwhelming.
A Blue Christmas/Longest Night service provides a sacred space for those who are having a difficult time during the holidays or for those who simply need to acknowledge some pain or loss they are carrying in the midst of these holidays and holy days.
I lead a Taizé service at Bellingham Unitarian Fellowship on the first Monday of each month. It is a time when we sing short chants, light candles, meditate, and pray together. Here is a link to the service we recently held called Holiday Blues:
When you have time and energy, I invite you to view this video and know that you are not alone.
I’m not a big fan of pretending to be happy when we’re not. The deep healing that we long for in our lives doesn’t come by misrepresenting our true feelings. It doesn’t come by hiding them or pretending they don’t exist. True healing comes when we can talk about our pain out loud and have others bear witness to it.
I consider it one of my deepest joys and honors to bear witness to another’s spiritual journey, and let’s be honest—sometimes we travel in darkness. Over the years I have come alongside many people in congregational and hospital settings, and now in my private practice of Interfaith spiritual direction, to remind us that we do not have to travel alone.