Sorrow haunts the face of the Iraqi mother as she leads her two small sons into a heavily guarded Baghdad church for Christmas Mass. Making the sign of the Cross, Maida Moshy slots into an empty pew to listen to the service, held in the afternoon of Christmas Eve because midnight is deemed too dangerous.

“I feel sad when I remember what Christmas used to be like with my large family,” said Ms Moshy, with a sigh. Years of violence since the war prompted six of her ten siblings to leave Iraq or move to the safer Kurdish north, while four of her husband’s five brothers and his sister have also fled. “I want my relatives to return because I hate being alone at Christmas,” said Ms Moshy, 32. “Without them I feel like a Christmas tree with no decorations.”

At the Virgin Mary Church that she attended in central Baghdad, a twinkling Christmas tree by the altar offers a taste of festivity but fails to dispel the pervading sense of emptiness as the holiday season reminds Christians across Iraq about the tens of thousands of loved ones who will not be with them this year.

Services that once drew thousands of worshippers to celebrate into the early hours of Christmas Day now struggle to attract enough people to fill half the pews, and barely last 60 minutes. A drop in the violence over the past six months has failed to boost attendance, with Christians saying that there are fewer people visiting the scattering of churches in Baghdad this Christmas than in 2006 because so many families have moved abroad, and the enduring fear of violence.

After a week of relative calm, 34 people were killed and dozens more wounded in two separate suicide attacks yesterday. One hit a residential complex of a state-run oil company in Beiji, 155 miles (250km) north of Baghdad, the other a funeral procession in Baquba, 35 miles northeast of the capital.

In Baghdad several churches remain closed after being bombed by Islamist extremists, while a heavy police presence outside those open on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day eased the sense of nervousness only slightly. “I do not feel an improvement in the security,” said one priest, who, along with two others interviewed by The Times, did not want his name to be published for fear of reprisals. “When I see the church full of people, when I can go to visit members of my congregation at night and return safely to my house then I will say that the country is better.”

The priest, summing up his mood this Christmas, added: “I am not sad, but I am not enjoying the occasion. Even if I put up a Christmas tree or prepare my church choir I do not have the same pleasure and joy of the day.”

A mixed choir of robed men and women at the Virgin Mary Church tried to inject some spirit into a slim assortment of Christmas songs, including Silent Night and Jingle Bells, between the prayers and sermon given by the spiritual leader of Iraq’s Catholics. “I love you and I love all Iraqis without exception,” said Cardinal Emmanuel III Delly, head of the ancient Chaldean Church and Iraq’s first cardinal.

Speaking to The Timesafter the service, he urged Christians to come home. “I am asking all families in exile to come back to Iraq and work together with the other Iraqis as one for the prosperity of the country after the improvement in the security situation,” said the Cardinal, dressed in flowing cream robes and a red cap.

Extremists targeted Iraq’s minority Christians in the mayhem that flared after the 2003 war, which also claimed the lives of thousands of Muslims.

Many families were forced to leave their homes, and many who could afford it left the country altogether.

“The situation is dangerous for all Iraqis, and being Christian adds an extra threat,” said Philip Douglas, 52, a chef, who misses his two sons deeply at this time of year. He smuggled them to Canada before the war, suspecting that it would be dangerous to remain in Iraq. “Christmas used to be special and happy but now it is just another sad, depressing day,” said Mr Douglas, who was at a simple service yesterday at St Joseph’s Latin (Roman Catholic) Cathedral in Baghdad.

Remembering Christmases gone by, Ms Moshy said that she used to gather with her brothers and sisters at their parents’ house for food, drink and dance. “Now we cannot do anything like that . . . I feel sad when they call me to wish me Happy Christmas because we are not together,” she said at her small apartment in Baghdad where she lives with her husband, Samir Aziz, and their boys, Wassim, 5, and Andre, 6. Instead they spent the day at the house of one of her sisters in Baghdad but there were no presents for the two boys, who will have to wait until a second, annual party at the end of the year because their parents cannot afford to buy two rounds of gifts.

Despite the low-key celebrations, the family had a better Christmas this year than the previous two, when security fears prevented them from even going to church. Asked what her Christmas wish was, Ms Moshy said: “Peace and security for everyone.”

Place of worship

— The majority of Christians in Iraq are Chaldean-Assyrians and Armenians, with small numbers of Roman Catholics

— Christians made up less than 3 per cent of Iraq’s population of 26 million before the 2003 invasion, standing at about 800,000 people. There are no accurate figures of the number of Christians today but estimates range between 500,000 and 600,000

— Christians were protected during Saddam Hussein’s time. One prominent Christian, Tariq Aziz, served as Foreign Minister and Deputy Prime Minister. He was arrested by US forces after the regime fell in 2003 and has remained imprisoned since, despite appeals for his release

— A campaign by the former Baath regime against Kurds in northern Iraq prompted thousands of Christians to move to Baghdad in the 1970s. New churches sprung up around the city as a result. Only one or two churches date from the 19th century

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