When was the last time you saw a roadside memorial or put flowers or teddy bear at a pop-up memorial?
After the death of a young
woman at the Halifax Walmart, it didn’t take long for a public memorial to form.
In the parking lot around a light standard there are flowers, and teddy bears, and
cards. Placed there by people from the wider community, not knowing the girl,
but needing to do something with the emotions being felt.
When was the last time you
took yourself on a date?
Every year, on the same day,
I take myself out or do something special for my non-birthday. A non-birthday
is any day but, your actual birthday. I have chosen a date that I celebrate my non-birthday.
I celebrate me. I go on a date with myself.
When was the last time you
asked your friends to talk about you?
This past week I saw an
episode of Blue Bloods. The main characters are in one family, a family
that gets together for Sunday dinner. At dinner the grandfather shares a story
about a funeral he attended for a friend. Lots of nice things were said about
the friend, but he felt sad afterward because his friend didn’t get to hear all
that was said. So, the grandfather asked those gathered around the table to participate
in a ‘living wake.’ Everyone around the table shared what they would say if
they were at grandpa’s wake right then.
Welcoming disquieted
emotions. Dating yourself. And living wakes.
For the past week I have
been thinking about grief and sadness, considering those who have lost loved
ones this year, and those living in amplified scenarios of violence, war, climate
events, and restrictive regimes. What words of good news can be preached into
hearts wrapped in grief and spirits saturated in sadness?
In my role as pastor, I have
stood by, sat with, accompanied, prayed for, prayed with, guided, supported,
wanted to support, those who are grieving, those who carry sadness from all
kinds of loss. My professional opinion is that grief and sadness are always
with us, each of us. Just as connection and happiness are always with us, each
of us. In a manner of speaking, we share a dinner table, where over the course
of the meal some speak more or louder than others. Some days sadness gets the
floor, other times connection, and so on. What I have learned from listening to
people and participating in the grief journeys of others is that people have unrealistic
expectations, are often swallowed up by fear, and people are not compassionate
with themselves. Unrealistic expectations. How do we get it into our heads that
grief is a set of stages that fall in sequential order and can be ticked off
once complete? How do we come to believe that life will settle out and resemble
what it used to be and go back to normal?
Swallowed by fear. Why are
we so afraid of crying in public? Why do we feel guilty for what the ifs or
what we should/could have done? Why do we feel shame that others will find out we
are not coping, or that we are grieving different or too slow? Why do we feel a
need to keep busy so we don’t feel emotions or lack the thereof? Why do we
dread future days and how we will be, when those days aren’t even here?
Not compassionate with ourselves.
Where does that feeling of having to do something come from? Where did we get
the idea that we just need to be stronger or pull ourselves together? Where did
we loss compassion for ourselves and not allow ourselves a stay in bed day, or
the permission to be sad?
If I was to write a book
about the journey of grief it would have three sections: Welcoming disquieted
emotions, dating yourself, and living wakes.
In my ponderings, two
phrases specifically spoke to me from this morning’s scriptures:
Speaking to the mourners at
the tomb of Lazarus. Jesus said to them, Unbind him, and let him go. Jn
11: 44
In the summation of
Revelation, the author has God say, See, I am making all things new. Rev
21.
Unbind him and let him go.
See, I am making all things new.
Unbind him and let him go – I
picture the scene of Jesus telling those around a risen Lazarus to unbind him.
Lazarus wrapped in earth covered cloth, with a smell of decay. The words are
for the mourners, not for Lazarus. And I wonder if the words are more than just
for that moment. ‘Unbind him.’ It is not long into the future when Jesus dies,
and the women find the tomb empty. What do the disciples do? They go and hide
in an upper room behind locked doors, in a grief bound by fear. Binding themselves in a way: acting from fear
they hide, put up barriers, close themselves off, and bind Jesus, relocating
him back to the world of the dead. In time the disciples open the door. Opening
themselves they are whelmed by the spirit. Casting off fear, they unbind
themselves and in this unbinding Jesus is also unbound, set free as they share
the Good News of his death and resurrection.
Unbind him and let him go –
When is the last time you
unbound yourself and let yourself go?
Welcoming disquieted
emotions. Dating yourself. A living wake.
Jesus’ words offer the
grieving permission to grieve, and the words commend a continued posture of walking
with grief, or in other words building a grief muscle. Last week I spoke about
setting one’s shoulders to face the world with a posture of Grace. The posture
of grace has many facets, one being a release from bondage – being set free.
Unbind him and let him go -
Welcome disquieted emotions.
This unbinding is about giving permission to yourself to take the time to feel.
Rather than staying busy and putting flowers on a pop-up memorial - acting,
this posture of walking with grief has one stop, and give time and quiet space for
one’s grief wrapped heart and sad-saturated spirit to suffer through the
emotions. To be unbound, grief and sadness need time and a quieting space.
Disquieted emotions are good
for it means you are concerned, engaged, and care for people and are aware of
the events happening in the wider world. It is good to be sad, it means you
have loved deeply that which has been lost. It is good to be sad, it means you
lived outside of fear. It is good to be sad, it means that you were full of
hopes and dreams and life.
Unbind him and let him go – see
I am making all things new.
Date yourself. This
unbinding is about letting go of other’s expectations on you, dropping the expectations
you have placed on yourself, honouring and letting go of your identity
connected with who or that which you have lost, and discovering who you are becoming.
This posture of walking with grief sets one’s shoulders to nurture hopes, recreate
dreams, and embrace new purpose and meaning for life.
I shared the non-birthday
date story with you because I have found that many people are afraid to be by themself,
afraid to find out what lies inside, afraid that they will find that they are
not enough. To unbind oneself from this fear is to walk through the shadow of
the valley of death and grief. And rest assured, you are enough. You are enough
and Christ -risen Jesus- is there in the shadow waiting. Christ with God’s
words will say, see I am making all things new. You are my beloved in you I
am well pleased. Let your light so shine. In Christ you are set free. You
are free indeed.
See I am making all things
new –
Living wakes. This posture
of grace is about hearing in the now, from those who love and know you the
best, that you are enough, you are free, that Christ has set you free. Holding
a living wake reminds us that we matter, that our lives have affected the lives
of those around us. It shares with loved ones that we are unbound, that it is normal
to dance with grief, sadness, connection, and happiness. It is okay to talk
about death. Living wakes allow us to be unbound and share with others that grief
is always present at the table and in the disquieted emotions that arise, we
have settled deep within us a confidence and hope in Christ, see I am making
all things new.
O Lord, support us all the
day long of this troubled life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening
comes and the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is
done. Then, in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace
at the last, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. – ELW pg 325
