Carson and Christmas

This past Thursday morning Carson Dwight died. Carson was the daughter of Bob and Rose Dwight and the mother of Cameron Roberts and Tiana Dwight.

Carson’s passage through this life was rough. She struggled with more demons than anyone ever deserves. Many of her relationships were troubled, which means that the grief itself is intense and complicated.

Coming just six days before Christmas, Carson’s death injects an especially harsh note into our holiday season. Any death of a loved one at this time of year can forever color the holidays blue. Many churches conduct “Blue Christmas” services for those for whom the season isn’t filled with peace and deep joy—but rather grief, depression, anger, resentment, or loneliness.

I write this reflection in the knowledge that Carson’s passing is not just a personal, private, or familial loss. Bob, Rose, Cameron, and Tiana are such a part of Christ Episcopal Church that this is a public grief because we love them so.

Of course, we often gloss over the darker elements of the Christmas stories that are in both St. Matthew’s and St. Luke’s telling: dislocation in the late stages of pregnancy, no room in the inn, the babe laid in the feeding trough for cows, slaughter of the Holy Innocents of Bethlehem, escape of the Holy Family into Egypt as refugees, uncertainty on Joseph’s part about the father of his son.

So on the one hand, the expectation of deep peace and great joy just doesn’t meet the reality of the situation. This year, as in every year, unmitigated cheer can only come if we ignore the tremendous human tragedies all around us.

On the other hand, the angelic proclamation of great joy and peace on earth came in the middle of all that darkness and still comes to us. St. John says in his version of the Christmas story, “The light was coming into the world and the darkness did not overcome it.”

To the Dwight’s and all of their family and friends, we extend our condolences and proclaim our love for them. And to everyone we affirm the Good News that God dwells with us, among us, is one of us—in all the messiness, grief, and ambiguity of the human experience.

Phillips Brooks, Episcopal Bishop of Massachusetts in the late 1800’s, wrote a poem that put it so well:
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight . . . .

We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
O come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Emmanuel.

–John Paddock