Candlelit Christmas Eve – 24/12/23

Musical Prelude: ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played by Andrew Robinson

Opening Words: ‘A Spark of Light in the Universe’ by Sydney Wilde-Nugent (adapted)

We are here this Christmas Eve to be together –
to reconnect with our community –
to feel the warmth of human bodies –
a reassurance against the cold of this winter night.

We come to fill our eyes with the light of candles,
to fill our ears with the sounds of music,
to fill our hearts with the wonder of new hope –
hope for the love of one another,
hope for peace on earth and good will to all.

Give us this night that inner peace which comes
from the knowledge that we are not alone
but that we are here, together,
sharing common hopes, common dreams, common resolves.

Give us this night the joy and wonder which fill our souls with the knowledge
that we are a part of the interweaving patterns of the human and divine –
Each of us a spark of light in the Universe;
together, a brilliance which calls forth the promise of Bethlehem.

Together, may we find the courage to realise that promise.

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These opening words from Sydney Wilde-Nugent welcome all who have gathered for our special Candlelit Christmas Eve service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church and also to all who are joining us via Zoom from far and wide. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall and I’m Minister with Kensington Unitarians. I’m glad you could join us.

This is our traditional service of readings and carols – traditional for us, at least – reflecting on the Christmas story and how it echoes down the years: the powerful symbolism of the birth of a child bringing hope in hopeless times, and the idea that every one of us might just be ‘the light of the world’.

Lighting of Chalice and Advent Candle: ‘This Night of Mystery’ by Linda Hart (adapted)

Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each time we gather. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which we are a part.

(light chalice)

We kindle a small flame, in the dark of the year
remembering the promise of life abundant,
of the possibility of peace, goodwill to all.

We pause on this night of mystery,
to tell the stories, to sing the songs,
and to bring more light into the world.

Let us light the candles on our Advent wreath too. It’s the fourth Sunday in advent, and the fourth candle traditionally represents love. May we know love, in all its many and varied guises, this season.

(light advent candle)

Carol: ‘Once in Royal David’s City’

It’s time for our first carol now – after this first one all the carols and readings are going to be unannounced – if you’re in the building you can simply follow along in the little booklet – and if you’re at home the words will pop up on screen (or alternatively you can follow the running order on the website). I suggest you remain seated. Our first carol is ‘Once in Royal David’s City’.

Once in royal David’s city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her Baby
In a manger for His bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little Child.

He came down to earth from heaven,
Who is God and Lord of all,
And His shelter was a stable,
And His cradle was a stall;
With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

Shepherds came to see this wonder,
And to kneel in holy awe,
At that lowly stable manger
Where the infant lay on straw;
So may we this happy morn
Honour every child that’s born.

From afar three magi journeyed
To that stable rude and bare,
To pay homage to the infant
Off’ring gifts both rich and rare;
So may we our gifts bestow,
Whether we be high or low.

In that happy Christmas spirit,
Hear the angels from on high
Sing their ancient salutations:
Joy’s a gift you cannot buy.
So may we, with heart that sings,
Share the truth this season brings.

Reading: ‘We Are Seeking Christmas’ by Tom Schade (Sonya)

O God, who moves among the stars of the cold clear sky,
whose voice whispers in the silence of falling snow,
whose silence stills our hearts and leaves us wondering and waiting.

Lord, we are seeking Christmas,
searching in this season for a hidden door
to a forgotten room in the house of our very being,
where we can live the lives we meant to live.

We are searching for Christmas,
seeking in this season to be finally persuaded
that hope is not just a good idea, and that love is not naïve,
and that faith is not just the brave face we put on a hopeless situation.

Lord, the fear of all the world is that you have left us alone here,
and that this here-and-now world is all there is or could ever be.

And the hope of our age is that You have, indeed, met us where we are,
at an inn at the end of the world, that we might have assurance;
you have lifted a lantern to light our path,
so we may follow your footsteps through the snow.

Grant us a measure of your Christmas peace;
fill us, each, with hope and good cheer;
and grant that each one be surrounded by those who love them,
and that there, in the joyous tumult of this season, we pray that You speak
a word of encouragement and grace to every human heart.

Reading: ‘A Season of the Spirit’ by Patricia Bowen (Carolyn)

We have come here seeking Christmas,
Searching outside ourselves for what can be found only within.
I say to you – we will not find Christmas here unless we have brought it with us.

Christmas is
a season of the spirit,
a habit of the heart,
not reserved for designated days in December,
but available all days, all year,
lighting our way through the darkness and the
dullness of the winters of our souls to the
Bethlehem that dwells in each of us.
There a star shines in spite of ourselves and the
absurdities and the ironies of our existence.

We need to be reminded, now and then, of that star’s
abiding presence and persistence in each one of us.

Here we pause, if only for a moment, in the midst of festive madness,
to listen for the angel voices that sound softly inside each of us,
proclaiming the truth of Christmas that lies beneath all the ribbon and paper,
the tinsel and glitter of getting and spending,
the ho ho hos that quickly become, for many of us, bah humbugs.

As we pause here on this winter’s eve,
let us listen quietly to those whispers of Christmas truth…
of the Gifts of Christmas that cannot be got, or bought, or sold, but can only be
freely received and gladly given – shared – with ourselves and others.

Reading: ‘Christmas Eternal’ by Bob Janis (Sara Helen and Alex)

There will always be Herods in this world:
Petty men in large palaces,
Murderers of dreams.
And there will always be a little Herod in us,
Scribbling decrees
On our map of the Heavens.

There will always be Magi in this world:
Followers of the tiny spark,
Those who will go to the ends of the earth for wonder.
And there will always be a little Magi in us,
Wiser in our dreams
Than we know.

There will always be shepherds in this world:
Holy caretakers of little ones,
Whose service is interrupted by song.
And there will always be a little shepherd in us,
Bearers of heart-treasure
For the mother of the world.

There will always be angels:
Vast armies whose only power is praise,
The night’s manifold courage.
And there will always be a little angel in us,
Shining and singing our hearts out
For new life.

And the time will come. And love will be there, too.

Christmas will come.
When the nights are so long that even the day is dark,
and the world’s balloon is a fugitive from the sky,
when hope seeps out of our collective life like breath,
like the wind punched from a downed fighter,
Christmas will come.

Christmas will come.
When the woman who carries the children of men,
swollen with shame and miracle,
is given no place for the beginning of the human story,
when the doors are shut against children,
when there is no room for the needy
outside the hovels of the making-do,
when the future of our faith lies homeless
in the straw and ashes,
and no one much cares,
when an animal cries for its lot,
Christmas will come.

Christmas will come.
When a man, wronged by circumstance
and prophecy,
is cheated by his God,
when a man is denied his due,
marries an empty dream,
and still is ruled by mercy,
when a man who refuses to give in
to the iron laws of this world
and lights a small candle in the hearth of fate,
Christmas will come.

Christmas will come,
when the baby is helpless and dependent,
when the little saviour who would, in time,
raise Lazarus,
cannot even bring life to its own lips,
when the hungry child is brought to the breast,
Christmas will come.

The kings will come later.
The shepherds will hasten to the good news.
Tonight, in the lowliest manger in Caesar’s kingdom,
as it is in the hearts of the poor,
as it always is in the moments afforded
to the discarded, the lost, those who are failing
to stave off death,
as it is to all who light candles in the night,
Christmas has come.

Carol: ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’

O come, O come, Emmanuel, and with your captive children dwell.
Give comfort to all exiles here, and to the aching heart bid cheer.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come within as Love to dwell.

O come, you Splendour very bright, as joy that never yields to might.
O come, and turn all hearts to peace, that greed and war at last shall cease.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come within as Truth to dwell.

O come, you Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by your presence here.
And dawn in every broken soul as vision that can see the whole.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come within as Light to dwell.

O come, you Wisdom from on high, from depths that hide within a sigh,
To temper knowledge with our care, to render every act a prayer.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come within as Hope to dwell.

Prayer for Christmas Eve by Sara Eileen LaWall

I invite you now to join in a time of prayer. I encourage you to do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together now – perhaps there is a posture that helps you to feel more prayerful – whatever would help you to be fully present with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us.

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,
Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the
silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)

We come together on this sacred night to
awaken ourselves to the joy of Christmas:
To the miracles of life;
The birth of a baby;
The rising of the sun once more;
The magic of this earth,
The love of one another.

This Christmas myth calls us to remember:
To remember that the ordinary can become extraordinary;
To remember that any child, our own children,
can become great prophets, teachers, leaders,
saviours even, not of souls but of lives,
working to end the ills and suffering in our world.

We give thanks for our many blessings.
We are reminded this night to share our blessings
with as many people as possible,
to consider that even the smallest gift, the smallest effort
can make a difference in someone’s life, in the world.
For this is the season of giving.
When we give we honour the divine in each other,
We acknowledge the common link among us all,
The common ancestry we all share, the blood
that is meant to unite us once and for all.

We pray for peace, that war may end;
We pray for food, that none may go hungry;
We pray for forgiveness, that our world may begin to heal;
We pray for dignity and worth, respect and love,
liberty, justice and equality for all.

But this prayer alone is insufficient.
We pray knowing that this prayer holds
the thought in the forefront of our mind.
This prayer focuses our energy on the needs of the world.
But we know that this prayer also requires action;
and with this very prayer we resolve to act,
To seize the moment, to seize our own power.

This Christmas myth reminds us
That this moment is precious
This moment is holy
This moment is powerful
This moment is charged with love
This moment is full of hope and possibility
This moment is all we need.

This is our Christmas prayer,
On this silent and holy night. (pause)

And in a few moments of shared silence and stillness,
may we speak inwardly some of those deepest prayers of our hearts —
the joys and sorrows we came in carrying – in our own lives and the lives of the wider world.
Let us each lift up whatever is on our heart this night, and ask for what we most need. (pause)

Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer draws to a close, we offer up
our joys and sorrows, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,
and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.

Help us to live well each day and be our best selves;
using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.

Carol: ‘It Came Upon the Midnight Clear’

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
“Peace to the earth, goodwill to all,
From heaven’s all-gracious King!”
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O’er all the weary world.
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o’er its babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long:
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And those who are at war hear not
The love-song which they bring:
O hush the noise, all ye of strife,
And hear the angels sing!

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow:
Look now! For glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo! The days are hastening on,
By prophet-bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Comes round the age of gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendours fling,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

Reading: ‘Fear Not’ by Lynn Ungar (David B)

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the
glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were
sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not….

Which is maybe a silly thing
for a creature made of wings and eyes
to say to a couple of schmoes
who were just hanging out with their sheep
until the heavens cracked open.

Who wouldn’t be afraid?
And who stops being afraid because
someone tells you?

And yet, “Fear not” is the thing
that angels say. Apparently.

An angel says it to Mary. And to Joseph.
“Fear not.” As if that would undo
the panic of the moment, let alone
all the hardship to come.

The story never says
if Mary or Joseph or the shepherds
were comforted by these fear-denying angels.

Likely not. But all of them moved forward,
did the next thing that was to be done,
which is about all you can ask.

And maybe when the word came from Herod
about smiting babies and they had to run—
maybe when all the daily terrors of life descend—
it could be good to have the angelic voices
whispering “fear not” all down the long road,
and reminding you about the tidings of great joy.

Reading: ‘Fear Not and Hallelujah’ by Marcus Liefert (Jeannene)

This piece by Marcus Leifert begins with a few famous words from the Gospel of Luke: “And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not….”

Marcus Liefert continues: I could do with an angel popping by every now and then to tell me to ‘fear not’. Instead of waking up and doomscrolling, I want each morning for my phone to alert me to a baby born. It would be sort of like an obituary in reverse: (short pause)

Today in San Rafael was born Ella Rae Riley.

She may, my phone would declare, with little shooting star emojis bursting across the screen, help find a cure for cancer, engineer food systems that end world hunger, or negotiate peace treaties.

Fear not, it would gently remind me: another human life has begun; another newborn messiah has been welcomed into this world.

Undoubtedly, the angel would alert me, she will touch other lives. She will care deeply, and others will feel excitement when they see her, sorrow at her absence. Perhaps she will teach children, drive buses, fight fires, steward libraries, or manage cities. Or maybe she will inspire people around the world for millennia to come by preaching a message of transcendent love and a holy vision of peace on earth.

She may, it would conclude, live a quiet life with a few close friends, a cat or maybe chickens who depend on her to feed them each day, and a case of treasured books she turns to when the rest of the world is too much to face.

Fear not, it would gently remind me: another human life has begun; another newborn messiah has been welcomed into this world. (short pause)

I’d still read the science and politics of climate change and feel my heart lurch for our planet in peril. I’d still read about police departments propping up white supremacy and courts stripping women’s rights, or love separated by borders, our country still ruthlessly declaring: no room at the inn.

But in the back of my head, I’d also hear the angel song, imagining that miraculous life full of spectacular greatness or simple, ordinary, human wonder.

Fear not, the angels would text me.

Hallelujah, I’d write back. Hallelujah, as all of us move forward, doing the next thing that is to be done, which is about all you can ask.

Fear not, the angels say. Hallelujah, we write back. Let heaven and nature sing. (short pause)

He concludes with a few words of prayer: God of life in the midst of winter, be with us in our fear and our joy. When the world is too much with us and worry or grief, numbing or cynicism, threaten to smother all hope of magic from our lives, bless us with the reminder that new life arrives. May our hearts open to receive it; may our hands find gifts to honour it; may our voices find songs to rejoice in it. Amen.

Musical Interlude: ‘O Holy Night’ played by Andrew Robinson

Carol: ‘Dark of Winter’

Dark of winter, soft and still, your quiet calm surrounds me.
Let my thoughts go where they will, ease my mind profoundly.
And then my soul will sing a song, a blessed song of love eternal.
Gentle darkness, soft and still, bring your quiet to me.

Darkness, soothe my weary eyes, that I may see more clearly.
When my heart with sorrow cries, comfort and caress me.
And then my soul may hear a voice, a still, small voice of love eternal.
Darkness, when my fears arise, let your peace flow through me.

Responsive Reading: ‘We Are the Light of the World’ by Becky Edmiston (Brian)

I invite you now to join in with this responsive reading by Becky Edmiston – this has been a Christmas Eve tradition for many years now at Essex Church – if you wish, please join in with speaking the simple refrain: ‘We Are the Light of the World’.

Some say that Jesus is the light of the world.
We all can be the light of the world if we seek to
Act in ways that enlarge the realms of love and justice.

When we share another’s pain or offer a comforting ear to a friend in need,
We are the light of the world.

When we give bread to the hungry or support ways to house the homeless,
When we fight temptations to wrongdoing within ourselves
and treat our neighbours with respect,
We are the light of the world.

When we try to overcome differences with understanding
and solve conflict with peaceful means,
We are the light of the world.

When we look for the good in other people and in ourselves,
We are the light of the world.

When we do not stay quiet in the face of prejudice,
but speak our minds firmly and gently,
We are the light of the world.

When we fight despair within ourselves and side with hope,
We are the light of the world.

When we use our powers justly and in the service of love for humanity.
We are the light of the world.

We are the light of the world! Amen.

Lighting of Candles with words by Lisa Rubin

We are about to move into a time of candle-lighting, shared stillness, and meditative singing.

Let us be still in the darkness of our sacred space,
And listen to the quiet around us.
For even in the quiet, there is the gentle being with others.

Let us feel the warmth of our community,
Knowing we are not alone.
For in the quiet shadow is the glow of life within all.
Let us know in the darkness the gift each candle bears,
A small flame, a diminutive light –
Yet the wondrous gift to kindle another’s glow.

Let us be in awe at this moment as we each take up the flame
And the light envelopes this room,
As hope for peace and goodwill fill this night.

Let us pass the light from one to another now – as the light spreads around the room – and across the screen as you hold up candles at home. When our candles are all lit, we will join in singing, and then I’ll dim the lights for us to hold a few minutes of candlelit silence together, before we sing again.

Carol: ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’

O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark street shineth
The everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.

O morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace throughout the earth;
For Christ is born of Mary —
And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.

How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The peace and joy of heaven.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.

Period of Silence and Stillness in Candle Light

Carol: ‘Silent Night’

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight,
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing “Alleluia”,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
Child of God, love’s pure light,
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Reading: ‘Christmas Eve’ by Kathleen McTigue (Juliet)

All these centuries after the story of the star,
the wise men, the baby born in the stable
and the angels singing him in with their
mysterious alleluias,
we are lost and wandering still.
We stumble at every step
over our own greed or need, our ignorance or fear.

Bethlehem is not a gentle city tonight.
Its people are wise in the ways of the clenched fist, the broken truce.
Marked like them with the scars of ignorance and sorrow
we come to Christmas baffled as any shepherd
by the music that sounds so high above us,
the syntax foreign to our sceptical hearts.

Yet we try to speak the language of hope,
lifting ourselves toward the future with
a dream of what yet may be.

We remember that the heart of Christmas is hope:
hope that a child, born homeless and in danger,
may grow up to be wise and kind;
that the stars, serene in their darkness,
have something to teach;
that there are mysteries around us,
among us, singing ethereal harmonies.

New hope in ourselves rises then, too:
that we will learn, one day,
and in the nick of time, how to walk our paths
with truth and justice, how to bring peace to life on this earth,
how to sing for ourselves the angels’ songs
of praise, wonder and joy.

Reading: ‘This Is a Holy Night’ by Debra Haffner (Jane)

Spirit of life and love,
we know you by many names
or perhaps no name at all—
yet together we know this is a holy night.

It is a holy night because we are here together,
joined in our common humanity,
listening to the words of the centuries old stories
and the familiar carols, recognizing that these are our stories too.

We have been the frightened youngsters
whose lives are about to change forever
through no intention of their own.

We have known what it is like to not fit in,
to be excluded, to be told there is no room at the inn for us.

We too have been the shepherds who are stunned into silence
by the awe of nature, fearful of what we are being asked to do next.

We are the wayfarers on a journey that has an ending we do not know.

But, we also know the promise of looking into the eyes of a newborn child.
We recognize the divine within that new life; Emmanuel, God is with us.
We have known the excitement and the adventure of a shared new journey.

We know that we cannot make it through this life alone:
We pray that we will too have visits from wise ones,
angels who will tell us not to be afraid,
and those who bring us light in our darkest days to show us the way.

We yearn for the promise of peace and everlasting love,
and that the words of the carols may ring true:
In the bleak midwinter, in this world of pain,
may our hearts be open, may love be born again.
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.
Silent night, holy night, may all be calm, may all be bright.
Peace on earth, good will to all.

We know together, it is indeed a holy night,
and we are blessed to share it together.

Carol: ‘I Heard the Bells’

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet, The words repeat,
“Goodwill to all, and peace on earth!”

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along The unbroken song,
“Goodwill to all, and peace on earth!”

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, A chant sublime:
“Goodwill to all, and peace on earth!”

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said.
“For hate is strong And mocks the song:
Goodwill to all, and peace on earth!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, and doth not sleep!
The wrong shall fail, The right prevail –
Goodwill to all, and peace on earth!”

Carol: ‘Good King Wenceslas’

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel

“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know’st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes’ fountain.”

“Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither.”
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather.

“Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, loving folk, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
You who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

Carol: ‘Goodnight Hymn’

To you each, my friends, tonight
I give thanks for company;
We have shared the inner light:
May that light go forth with thee.
May we give each other power –
Live with courage every hour.

As we face the coming week,
With its worries and its strife,
Strength and wisdom let us seek
In this hour’s remembered life.
May we give each other power –
Live with courage every hour.

In our homes and in the street,
In a world with sadness rife,
May we show to all we meet
Glory that we find in life.
May we give each other power –
Live with courage every hour.

To you each, my friends, tonight
I give thanks for company;
We have shared the inner light:
May that light go forth with thee.
May we give each other power –
Live with courage every hour.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting. Thanks to Jeannene for welcoming everyone online. Thanks to all our readers – Sonya, Carolyn, Sara Helen, Alex, Brian, David, Jeannene, and Juliet. Thanks to Andrew and Benjie for our music today. Thanks to Hannah for greeting, and Patricia, David and Carolyn for mince pies and mulled wine – do stay on for a bit for a chat after if you can – and we’ll also leave the Zoom room open for a bit if you want to stay on and chat there too.

We have got a few other things going on over the festive season: there’ll be a Heart and Soul Christmas special, online, on Boxing Day at 7pm. Get in touch if you want to join us for that. Or the regular Friday and Sunday gatherings will be back next week. And we’ve also got a New Year’s Mini-Retreat coming up – you can come online on the 30th or in-person on the 31st – again please let me know if you’re planning to be at any of these events to help me plan and prepare resources. And of course we’ll be back at 11am next Sunday for a service on ‘Retreat: Making Space for Reorientation’.

Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email. Please do sign up for the mailing list if you haven’t already. And we’ve got loads of flyers in the foyer for all the events you might come along to in the New Year. The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.

I think that’s everything. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.

Benediction: based on words by Maureen Killoran and Colin Bossen

Tonight in this beloved community,
we have shared stories, sung carols,
opened our hearts to the beauty of music.

Tonight we have turned to one another,
lighting candles of hope in the darkness.

Tonight we have dared to hear a message of resistance
spoken once again against the forces of oppression.

It is time now to depart, to go onward,
to our lives and to the world outside.

So let us go in the spirit of love,
Never knowing when or where we may find the divine,
Yet conscious of the spark within each of us,
And the unfolding beauty that surrounds us.

May peace and joy be your companions,
whether you are with others or alone this Christmas.

And may the gift of community dwell in your heart,
for here, in this place, you will be welcome – always.

Merry Christmas everyone. Go well and blessed be. Amen.

Closing Music: ‘The Christmas Song’ performed by Benjie del Rosario and Andrew Robinson

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

24th December 2023