Candlelit Christmas Eve
- revjaneblackall
- 5 days ago
- 21 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
Special Service, 24 December 2025
Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Congregation Members
Musical Prelude: ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ / ‘The First Nowell’ (performed by Wigfield Brass)
Opening Words: ‘Invitation to Christmas’ by Shari Woodbury
On this eve of mystery and magic,
let us enter into the Christmas story
as if we were there on the holy night.
What part will we play this year?
Are you the mother, trusting your body to know
what to do when the time of birth comes?
Are you the father, protecting your vulnerable family
from unknown threats on a strange journey?
Are you the innkeeper who has no room, or will you take us in?
Perhaps you are the animals, who hear the child's first cry.
But who will sing the songs of rejoicing for the precious babe?
Who will rise up and follow the bright star of hope,
even if it means a few lost sheep?
What wise ones will give away their wealth
and remember what to adore?
And when the holy family must travel once again,
who in this harsh land will shelter them?
On this Silent Night, let us search our hearts
for our place in the Christmas story that never ends.
Let us choose again our role in the incarnation of love.
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These opening words from Shari Woodbury welcome all who have gathered for our 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 tonight.
This is our traditional service of readings and carols – traditional for us, at least – reflecting on the Christmas story in our own Unitarian way – listening out for resonances with the rather troubled world we are living in today – making space for all the many messages of Christmas to come alive.
Perhaps the spirit of the season can bring us what we most need as we gather together tonight – a sense of comfort and familiarity – or connection and warmth – or maybe it will instil a sense of hopefulness and courage to help us cope with whatever challenges we find ourselves facing in life.
Lighting of Chalice and Advent Candle: ‘Heart Full or Heart Empty’ by Krista Taves (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)
Whether you have come here with heart full or heart empty,
with spirits high or low, rested or tired, hopeful or despairing,
Whether you have come here out of habit,
conviction, loneliness, or curiosity,
You belong here because you are here,
and all that you have and all that you are is welcome here.
As we light this chalice, this Christmas Eve, let us
pledge our hearts to co-creating this community
of caring and goodwill, just as we do all year round. (pause)
Let us light the candles on our Advent wreath too – for hope, joy, peace, and love – and tonight we light a central candle, sometimes known as the Christ candle, as the advent journey draws to a close.
(light advent candles)
Carol: ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’
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 (alternatively you can follow the running order on the website). I suggest we remain seated. Our first carol is ‘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.
Responsive Reading: ‘Letting the Story Speak’ by Jane Blackall (read by John)
I invite you now to join in with this responsive reading, ‘Letting the Story Speak’.
The words are in your order of service (and will be up on screen). The responses are in bold. (pause)
This Christmas, let us open our hearts,
and extend an invitation to those familiar figures,
allowing the old story of the nativity to speak to us anew.
Mary and Joseph, poor and weary travellers, speak to us:
Show us the way of acceptance and love;
of saying ‘yes’ and embracing the mystery
Shepherds, steadfast and humble workers, speak to us:
Inspire us to be watchful and attentive; to go where
we are called to go and do what needs to be done.
Angels, heralds of good news, speak to us:
Encourage us to be open to unexpected messages
and surprising insights that transform our lives.
Innkeeper, provider of hospitality, speak to us:
Stir us to share our resources to help others
and to know our offerings will be good-enough.
Beasts of the stall, accidental witnesses, speak to us:
Remind us to be good and sturdy companions to those
with whom we happen to be thrown together in this life.
Herod, tyrant and oppressor, speak to us:
Warn us of the evils and injustices of our own times;
provoke us to speak and act in ways that resist wrongdoing.
Magi, wise and intrepid strangers, speak to us:
Teach us to follow wherever love might lead,
that we too may grow in wisdom and in faith.
Star, sign of our highest aspirations, speak to us:
Guide us as we make our way through life,
illuminating the path of truth and righteousness.
Jesus, holy child, speak to us:
Awaken us to the light within each life,
the sense of hope and possibility in every birth;
help us to know the divine spark, the unique potential, we carry.
This Christmas, let us open our hearts, that the old story may speak to us anew. Amen.
Reading: ‘The Truth of the Story’ by Kate Brady McKenna (read by Jasmine)
They say a story can carry a truth far greater than the literal truth.
We Unitarians know the value of stories.
We know they carry truth.
We know they carry more truth than just the plain truth ever can.
Maybe we can’t believe a virgin gave birth to the son of God:
but we can believe that all births are miracles, worthy of celebration and wonder.
Maybe we can’t believe angels brought revelations:
but we can believe truth can be revealed
through the actions and words of those who dare to speak it and to act it.
Maybe we can’t believe the angels sang to shepherds:
but we can believe that those revelations about life
can come to and through even those we think are the most humble.
Maybe we can’t believe the wise men travelled to see the new-born baby king:
but we can believe that we should never be too lofty
or think ourselves too clever or too rich to see the wonder and majesty in tiny things.
Maybe we can’t believe that Jesus brought back the light by redeeming our sins:
but we can believe in a leader and teacher and prophet
who brought and brings illumination to the lives of those who wish to listen.
We can believe in the light. Always, we can believe in the light.
Maybe we can’t believe the Christmas story:
but we can believe in it
as a story which points to
a truth greater than we can possibly imagine.
Carol: ‘The Holly and the Ivy’
The holly and the ivy, now they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.
Oh, the rising of the sun and the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.
The holly bears a blossom as white as lily flower,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ to be our sweet saviour
Oh, the rising of the sun and the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.
The holly bears a berry as red as any blood,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ to do poor sinners good.
Oh, the rising of the sun and the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.
The holly bears a prickle as sharp as any thorn,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ on Christmas Day in the morn.
Oh, the rising of the sun and the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.
The holly bears a bark as bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ for to redeem us all.
Oh, the rising of the sun and the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the choir.
Reading: ‘Come Christmas!’ by Maureen Killoran (read by Brian)
No one is ever really ready for Christmas.
If we were really all prepared:
If every gift we had contemplated had been obtained;
If every present was beautifully beribboned;
If all the goodies our friends deserve
were baked and cooled, and stored just so;
If each and every person we love was gathered for our celebration;
If we never snapped at someone we care about,
nor stopped short of being all that we could be;
If our minds were 100 per cent loving
and our hearts were 100 per cent generous;
They truly would be ready – and truly
we would not need Christmas quite so much.
So come, Christmas, most needed of seasons.
Come with the reminder that love does not depend on
Perfection but on willingness to risk connection.
Come into the unready manger of our hearts
That we may feel the warmth of new life
And give flesh to the promise of hope
That cries to bring healing into our world.
Come Christmas!
Come, Love,
Come, Hope.
Be born in our unready hearts
On this silent and holy night.
Prayer for Christmas Eve by Anya Sammler-Michael
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)
Blessed and holy night, silent night,
we sit together in the glow of ages,
wound round stories that teach us
some of what it means to be human,
and some of what it means to see God.
The meditations of our hearts, and prayers of our souls,
speak our independent needs, loves and yearnings…
may they collect, for a moment, in this, our common experience,
as we direct them together, to the One Who Holds All.
We seek the patience to peer long enough,
in the eyes of our brothers and sisters,
our cousins and niblings, all our relations,
that we too may see them as children,
of loving mothers and fathers, children of divinity itself.
We seek the wisdom to pause long enough,
before making hasty judgments
that separate us from one another,
that separate us from our very souls.
We seek, the strength to hold the lives
that are placed in our own tender care,
not to protect them from every trial,
but to hold them in the light as best we can.
We seek the still small call to compassion,
that cannot be silenced by greed, fear, or anger,
the call that roots so deeply in our humanity,
that it will out, should we pause long enough to listen.
For all of these we give of ourselves, in prayer or meditation,
so we might find the means to make our yearnings manifest in our world,
by the work of our hands, and the proclamation of our hearts. (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.
As we look forward now to the turning of the year,
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: ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.
In the ancient story
Of the infant’s birth
Angels in their glory
Promised peace on earth;
But only his mother,
With a mother’s bliss,
Worshipped the belovèd
With a kiss.
Christ was homeless stranger,
So the gospels say,
Cradled in a manger
And a bed of hay:
In the bleak mid-winter
Stable-place sufficed
Mary and her baby
Jesus Christ.
Once more child and mother
Weave their magic spell,
Touching hearts with wonder
Words can never tell:
In the bleak mid-winter,
In this world of pain,
Where our hearts are open
Christ is born again.
ONLINE Reading: ‘It Doesn’t Seem Like Much’ by Julián Jamaica Soto (read by Lochlann)
It doesn't seem like much.
One emperor, one mandate,
one census, two young people
traveling. And a young woman
pregnant and feeling, every
bump on the road, every
vertebra of the laden donkey.
And arriving to their destination,
late in the purple night, lit by
one bright star and so many
cold shoulders. No, they said.
No room here. Not good news
for someone so near, and what
about the backache and the
contractions, near to giving
birth. And sometimes that
moment is exalted as the
advent-arrival of the liberator.
But the truth is that dullness
of heart, flatness of courage
is the same as the no, the
same as cold shoulders,
rolling eyes
and doors blithely thrown
shut. No angel, no astrologer
no star and no sheep can
convince a heart closed to
the natural yes of people
around us, neighbour, kin
and about to be friend.
what can we liberate if
we cannot see the journey
as an example of our own?
throw open the door. make
ready the space. love as though
there is no other medicine.
what if you are not a righteous
innkeeper, but instead the
manger, the stable, the
haven of rest?
ONLINE Reading: ‘Joseph’ by Lynn Ungar (read by Alex)
Can we take a moment here for Joseph,
the guy at the back of the nativity scene,
the unwitting stepdad who didn’t ask
for any of this mishegas of kings
and stars and angels spake-ing and all that.
Mary is a bad-ass who speaks for a God
who casts down the mighty from their thrones,
and the baby is, somehow, incomprehensibly,
also God. But Joseph is just a guy who is
doing the best he can under circumstances
that range from trying from terrifying to tragic.
He knows how to build things. He has no clue
what to do with a kid who runs off
to preach to his elders in the Temple.
Most of the time he is bewildered, caught
between loving his odd little family and
sensing that the story might be heading
off on the wrong track, with nothing he can do.
He would give anything to tuck them back
in that smelly stable where he could hold
mother and baby safe inside his arms.
He can’t. The story is full of drama
and complication, and he is never the hero,
just someone, like the rest of us, trying
to make sense of it all, trying to let the bit part
that he plays somehow count, trying
to keep following that star, even when
it goes invisible in the harsh light of day.
Musical Interlude: ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ (performed by Wigfield Brass)
Reading: ‘Christmas is Subversive’ by Kendyl R Gibbons (read by Pat)
One of the great things about Christmas is that it is a sturdy holiday.
Christmas doesn’t wimp out when times are hard – it comes anyway,
even if there are hardly any presents,
even when there isn’t much food to make a feast with,
even if you’re sad, even if the world around you is at war,
even if you are living in fear and danger and oppression, Christmas still comes.
And when it comes, Christmas is subversive.
Christmas, with its story of an unwed mother and a doubtful father;
with its legend of a helpless baby, born in a stable,
who was worshipped by some of the wisest, richest men in the world;
with its tale of the child pursued by the deadly wrath of kings,
who escaped as a refugee to a foreign land far from home.
Christmas, with its ancient, enduring summons
of peace on earth, good will to all people, everywhere.
You can’t stop a day like that with a little hardship, or greed, or injustice.
It will show up anyway, shining the light of a midnight star
into the darkest places of our collective lives.
Do not underestimate the power of the manger, and the hope it holds.
The Christmas song of the angels is not as innocent as it sounds.
It has turned the world upside down before now. It still can.
Carol: ‘Sussex Carol’
On Christmas night all Christians sing
To hear the news the angels bring.
On Christmas night all Christians sing
To hear the news the angels bring.
News of great joy, news of great mirth,
News of our Saviour King's own birth.
Then why should we on earth be sad,
Since our Redeemer made us glad,
Then why should we on earth be sad,
Since our Redeemer made us glad,
When from our sin he set us free,
All for to gain our liberty?
Now sin depart, behold His grace,
Then life and health come in its place.
Now sin depart, behold His grace,
Then life and health come in its place.
Angels and men with joy may sing
All for to see the new-born King.
Then out of darkness we see light,
Which made the angels sing this night:
Then out of darkness we see light,
Which made the angels sing this night:
"Glory to God and peace to men,
Now and for evermore, Amen!"
Responsive Reading: ‘We Are the Light of the World’ by Becky Edmiston (read by Liz)
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 – 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 Silent Night, and then I’ll dim the lights for us to hold a few minutes of candlelit silence together. And when the lights come up we’ll have some more gentle music to bring us out of the silence.
Carol: ‘Silent Night’ (SLT version)
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.
Period of Silence and Stillness in Candle Light (~2 minutes)
Musical Interlude: ‘O Holy Night’ (played by Wigfield Brass)
Reading: ‘Even This’ by Monica Clark-Robinson (read by Azita)
This heavy blanket that hangs like night,
Weighted but not comforting,
Its tangled threads impossible to unravel:
Even this is you.
The often inaccessible
Deep Blue of the soul,
Obscured and fathomless:
Even this is love.
The sharp pains of childbirth,
The bitter cold of the stable,
The fear and trepidation Mary must’ve felt,
The plight of the immigrant:
Even this is Christmas.
You are a tapestry of all your thoughts
And feeling and dreams,
The sweet and the bitter,
The shadow and the light.
Each part just as beautiful as the next,
Each strand relying on the other.
The indigo blues of you are
As worthy as the sunniest golds.
Some years are hard.
Some holidays won’t feel jolly.
Some days are best kept
In quiet contemplation.
But none of that
Makes this time less holy.
None of that
Makes you less worthy,
None of that
Makes this any less Christmas.
We have always retreated
In the darkness,
Across faiths and cultures,
Taking time to remember
What is important,
What is true,
What is worthy.
Now, more than ever,
We can see that clearly.
We know, as we didn’t before,
The beauty of our own inner world.
Even in this longest night,
Which we experience
Both together and alone,
We are still love.
We are still holy.
We are still Christmas.
Reading: ‘Hope Comes to Claim Us’ by Hannah Roberts Villnave (read by Roy)
In the season of long, cold nights, hope isn’t waiting for us to find it.
Hope isn’t sitting patiently on the sidelines.
Hope seeks out the forgotten places – the longest night,
the damaged temple, the over-crowded stable,
and every corner where tomorrow seems impossible.
Hope bursts in uninvited, without concern for our carefully crafted plans.
Hope shows up as a lamp that keeps burning.
Hope shows up as an improbable baby.
Hope shows up as the sun, returning without ever having left.
Hope shows up as tomorrow, and then tomorrow, and then tomorrow until,
against all odds, we feel the future breaking on the horizon.
When we are weary from battle,
when empire seems inevitable,
and when darkness is growing around us…
Hope comes to claim us, and we have the chance to say yes.
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: ‘Joy to the World’
Joy to the world, for peace shall come:
Let this be our refrain!
In every heart, in every land,
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and love and freedom reign!
Joy to the earth where truth is all,
And justice our domain!
In every mind, in every word,
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and love and freedom reign!
Joy to our hearts, good-will to all!
The earth, the world shall ring
With deeds of love, with songs of praise:
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and freedom reign!
Let peace and love and freedom reign!
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Lochlann for co-hosting. Thanks to all our readers – John, Jasmine, Brian, Lochlann, Alex, Pat, Liz, Azita and Roy. Thanks to Andrew and Wigfield Brass for our music today. Thanks to Patricia for greeting and David for doing the mince pies and mulled wine – do stay on for a bit for a chat after if you can – we’ve also got loads of cake left too and I don’t want that to go to waste so even if you’re dashing off do take a doggy bag as a Christmas treat from us! – we’ll also leave the Zoom room open for a bit if you want to chat.
We have got a few other things going on over the festive season: there’ll be a Heart and Soul Christmas special, online, on Friday at 7pm. Get in touch if you want to join us for that. And we’ve also got a New Year’s Mini-Retreat coming up – you can come in-person on the 28th or online on New Year’s Day – again please let me know if you’re planning to be at any of these events to help me plan and prepare resources. We’ve got an online course starting on Tuesday 6th January on ‘Finding Our Religion: Being Unitarian in the 21st Century’ – that’s a joint venture with the Leeds congregation – and we’ve got lots of Unitarians from all over the country signed up – so let me know if you want to join in too. And of course we’ll be back on Sunday for a service on ‘Roots and Wings’.
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 if you haven’t already had a copy please do pick up a copy of our fancy newsletter in the foyer for more information about all the other events and activities we offer here at Essex Church all year round. 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 one last carol before our closing words and closing music now. It’s a bit of a festive favourite – Good King Wenceslas – and if you want to sing the part of the Page or the King depending on whether your voice is high or low that can be good fun.
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, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
Benediction: ‘Christmas Begins at Night’ by A Powell Davies
In legend upon legend, story upon story, Christmas begins,
not with daybreak and the coming of morning, but at night.
It was in the deep of night that Mary and Joseph sought shelter in the stable.
And it was in darkness that the shepherds heard the angels sing.
The Magi who sought the child of prophecy were guided not by the sun, but by a star.
The legends have stayed close to the inner truth from which they draw their power:
that we must find our faith not in the daylight, but in the dark.
For whatsoever is wonderful or true, good or lovely,
does not wait to find a perfect world into which it can be born.
The truth, we know, is that it is here,
into this painful, broken and flawed world,
that goodness and peace and Love also come.
So may we go forth into this night, taking our love – a love that heals,
a love that speaks truth to power, a love that casts out all fear --
Let us go forth and take our love out into the world. Amen.
Closing Music: ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’/‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (performed by Wigfield Brass)
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
24th December 2025