In American culture, Christmas is often associated with happiness and cheer. The well-known carols echo this sentiment, with songs like “Joy to the World” ringing through countless churches and the secular tune encouraging a “Holly Jolly Christmas.” However, the real feelings of the season can be more nuanced. For many, late December stirs a mix of nostalgia and sadness. It’s hard not to think of loved ones who are absent during the holidays. People move, relationships change, and some pass away—all of which feel more poignant this time of year. Even parents may wistfully recall a time when their children believed in Santa. Additionally, the season brings a lot to do, and the process of gift-buying can be challenging.
Throughout my career as a scholar of religion, I’ve explored the influence of music on society. When Christmas music begins its weeks-long run in November, I’m particularly aware of songs that deviate from the typical themes, acknowledging that the “most wonderful time of the year” can feel quite different. Elvis Presley touched on this emotion with “Blue Christmas,” a song about romantic separation: “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you/ I’ll be so blue just thinking about you.” The theme of romantic holiday heartbreak is even more direct in Wham!’s ’80s hit “Last Christmas”: “Last Christmas I gave you my heart/ But the very next day you gave it away.” The concept of Blue Christmas is being increasingly recognized, even in churches, where one might expect an undisturbed focus on holiday joy. Some congregations now hold Blue Christmas services, featuring readings that address loss yet also highlight the hope symbolized by Christ’s birth. Sometimes referred to as Longest Night services, this practice is partly inspired by the winter solstice—the longest night of the year—and serves as a reminder that seasonal affective disorder may contribute to feelings of sadness.
It’s no surprise that Romans, pagans, and others celebrated the winter solstice with fires. Today, many people use small paper lanterns called luminaria, a tradition from the southern US borderlands. The four weeks of Advent, leading up to Christmas in the church calendar, have a solemn quality as significant to the season as the joyful 12 days of Christmas. As Anglican priest Tish Harrison Warren noted in a 2019 New York Times column, “The tyranny of relentless mandatory celebration leaves us exhausted and often, ironically, feeling emptier.” Practicing Advent involves embracing a profound, undefined longing for things to be right and the sense of incompleteness in the meantime. Churches often focus on the mystery and uncertainties before the birth of Christ. Probably the best-known Advent hymn is “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” with its somber, chant-like tune from 15th-century France. The song’s opening verse mentions the ancient Jerusalemites in “lonely exile” after Babylon’s conquest, hoping for a messiah or “Immanuel,” which means “God with us,” as foreseen by the prophet Isaiah. They long for him to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night/ And death’s dark shadows put to flight.”
Outside of church, a song that captures the bittersweet nature of the holidays is Vince Guaraldi’s “Christmas Time is Here,” with its jazz harmonies and waltz rhythm behind a children’s choir. It opens the classic “Peanuts” animated TV special, fittingly starting with a despondent Charlie Brown seeking advice from Lucy. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” might express nostalgia and melancholy better than any other song. Recorded in October 1943, during World War II, it became a hit for Bing Crosby, whose “White Christmas” was already a success. Crosby sings in his rich voice, envisioning snow and mistletoe, hinting that he might only be home in his dreams. His version, with a distinct warble on “I’ll be home for Christ—ma-a-as,” is perhaps the most renowned, resonating with the emotions of a world at war. Despite this, the BBC banned it during WWII, fearing it would dampen morale, arguing that, particularly with certain singers, it could be overly sentimental and not fitting the public’s needs. The latest rendition is by Cuban-American artist Camila Cabello, who, in a White House performance last year, included a mariachi band for a Mexican twist. She also adjusted the lyrics slightly to reflect today’s gift-giving tradition by singing “presents under the tree” instead of “presents on the tree.”