Blue Christmas

This evening I went with my parents to an event called Blue Christmas. One of our local funeral homes offers it at this time of year as a generic memorial for everyone who has lost loved ones over the last twelve months. (My grandfather died some months ago).
We put lights on a Christmas tree and lit candles, listened to a beautiful piece of music, and heard a couple brief reflections on grief. It was an experience of shared suffering and giving permission for people to face their feelings.
What stood out to me was the need (in respect for the widely varied spiritual beliefs or lack thereof represented in attendance) for there to be no reference to God, heaven, prayer, or the like. There were a couple very nonspecific suggestions of something beyond the material life, but it was so couched in careful sensitivity as to be essentially nonexistent.
What can you offer grieving people if you don't offer even a totally generic faith? Not much really. Acceptance of grief, acknowledgment of confusion, rituals and symbols with no clear meaning.
You can help people look back and honour memories of their lost loved ones. But you can't say much of anything about the future. For people deep in grief the future can be extremely bleak; and unending sense of emptiness and loss.
The only help for grief is hope.
Hope is the realm of faith. Not any single faith in particular necessarily, but some form of faith.