The Longest Night… of the Longest Year

Advent is a season of waiting. Hallmark, the nostalgic Christmas songs on the radio, and even the church lead us to believe our waiting should be full of excitement and unending joy. But for many people, that expectation doesn’t acknowledge the reality of tragedy and suffering in their lives.

The truth is, waiting isn’t always joyful and triumphant. Some friends of ours—our former Regional Minister and his family—recently experienced how painful waiting can be. Bill wrote,

““Last night Amy and I were forced to sit in our car for over 7 hours outside the emergency room due to COVID protocols, while our son had to endure testing and eventual confirmation that he has a lymphoma mass on his lung and neck. We have cried and will cry a lot more as we try to figure out this new reality.””

To have to wait—for news of a loved one’s wellness; for doctors to formulate a plan; for a cure to cancer—is evidence the world isn’t yet how God intends for it to be.

December 21st—the longest night of the (longest) year—we acknowledge and express our love to people everywhere who aren’t experiencing Christmas as a joyful occasion this year. For some in our congregation, this will be their first Christmas without a parent or a spouse or even a child at the dinner table. Some have experienced violence and unspeakable tragedy. Many people are lonely or afraid. To all of you, we say, “We see you.”

Even as we wait for Christ’s arrival as a baby here on earth, we long for his return when “He will wipe away every tear from our eyes. When there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, because the former things will have passed away.” — Revelation 21:4

“Requiem”

by Eliza Gilkyson
arr. Craig Hella Johnson

Mother Mary full of grace, awaken.
All our homes are gone, our loved ones taken,
Taken by the sea.

Mother Mary calm our fears, have mercy.
Drowning in a sea of tears, have mercy.
Hear our mournful plea.

Our world has been shaken,
We wander our homelands forsaken.

In the dark night of the soul
Bring some comfort to us all,
Oh Mother Mary, come and carry us in your embrace
That our sorrows may be faced.

Mary, fill the glass to overflowing.
Illuminate the path where we are going.
Have mercy on us all.

In funeral fires burning,
Each flame to your mystery returning.

In the dark night of the soul
Your shattered dreamers, make them whole.
O Mother Mary, find us where we’ve fallen out of grace,
Lead us to a higher place.

In the dark night of the soul
Our broken hearts you can make whole.
O Mother Mary, come and carry us in your embrace.
Let us see your gentle face, Mary.