Don't worry dear ones, I am not venturing into another post about depression and/or mental illness. Instead, I've been thinking a lot about grief lately. Grief is such a hard concept to pin down. Partially because everyone experiences it differently but also because, as a society, we have worked really hard to sanitize and privatize grief. From early on warning to not "air dirty laundry" and "put on a brave face" and to "stop being so... dramatic... emotional... such a snowflake..." we have cleaned up, cleared away and generally made guidelines for what grief is not allowed to look like. Rules for Grieving: 1) Monitor how often you cry in front of others. Appropriate times vary by extent of loss. 2) Make sure that if you have to be loud in how you grieve that you do it out of the public eye. 3) Don't make others uncomfortable in how you choose to grieve. 4) Don't inform others when they've said or done something damaging, surely they just mean well. 5) Let the burden of need fall on you. Be ok with people telling you to reach out when you have a need. Do not in any way think someone may bring care for you without you initiating the contact. And then, whatever you do, do not further others discomfort by actually taking them up on their offer. And so on and so forth until you grieve only in private, or refuse to grieve, or believe that grieving is somehow selfish, and eventually decide it is healthier to just internalize everything so as not to put anyone else out. Or, get completely stressed out trying to obey the societal dictates that you will undoubtedly break and then completely blow up. Well, honestly, none of that sounds particularly healthy or helpful. Now, I know I'm only about eight and a half years into ministry, but I've been to many funerals. Most as the presiding minister and some as a mourner/supporter. The most beautiful moment I remember of someone embracing their grief and receiving support in communal grieving was when the widow of the deceased went to the side of the casket and laid her hand on his and declared: "I miss you. Life is lonelier and harder without you. But I'm so angry that you're gone and I've lost my best friend." And then she stood there sobbing, legitimately, soul-crushing sobs. I saw the funeral director trying to decide how best to get her some privacy when her young granddaughter came up and said: "I'm mad I'll never get to play putt-putt with grandpa again," and she, too, began to sob loudly. I watched as the daughter of the deceased stopped the funeral director from stepping in with a gentle hand on his and she went to stand beside her mother and daughter and with an arm around each, she began to cry. One by one family and friends came forward, made contact in some way with each other and grieved - openly, some loudly, some not, and all without any self-consciousness in their grief. The group dispersed as naturally as it had gathered but there was an air of catharsis in the room and it was like the first breath of fresh air after being inside for too long. You could feel the relief and the new sense of connection that had entered the gathered mourners. It was truly spectacular to witness. That moment very clearly revealed to me the desperate need in our society for openness to communal grieving. Dating back to at least ancient Egypt there have existed professional mourners. At that time, two non-related mourners would attend funerals as representatives of goddesses Isis and Nephthys. Their role was to pull out their hair to bestow the energy needed for the deceased to reach the afterlife. Professional mourners are also known as "moirologists" (fun fact - see, my blog can even be educational). There are incidences of professional mourners throughout the world and throughout cultures. It is a truly fascinating topic and I encourage you to read more on it. But from my point of view, I turn back to Scripture to the examples that are offered there of hired mourners. There are two references that stand out in my mind. The first is at the death of Jairus' daughter. It reads "When Jesus came to the leader's house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, he said 'Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.' And they laughed at him." (Matthew 9:23-24; NRSV) The other is from Jesus' raising of Lazarus from John 11:31: "When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there." (John 11:31; NRSV). So, neither text directly says these were hired mourners, but the implication is there, especially in the Matthew text where we hear about flute players and a crowd making a commotion. In two examples we see the importance of the community surrounding the mourners with support and love and providing space for the bereaved to mourn in the way they need. I hate that this practice seems to have been lost to our community today. There is enough going on in the life of someone who is grieving that I am saddened at this need to be aware enough of emotions so as to not make a societal faux pas. Now, I understand that not everyone needs to grieve loudly, or with great, gulping sobs. Yet, I think that everyone could benefit from knowing there are others who are willing just to sit with us in our grieving. To let us be sad, and to share stories, or angers, or regrets, without conversation. Sometimes we just need a place to voice these thoughts. Every once in a while we might just need to voice emotions and frustrations without needing someone to offer a solution. I know for some people, this would frustrate them to no end because they are natural fixers. But, I promise, sometimes people just need to voice thoughts without needing a plethora of solutions. Especially at a time of grief.
Lately, I've been around a lot of people grieving. Some are grieving the loss of a loved one, some are grieving the loss of circumstances or a relationship, while still others are grieving an impending loss. All of these are heavy griefs to bear and when we try to carry them alone, the weight presses down until we feel as though we are stuck in one place. It can be a suffocating feeling for people. Yet, what I have also seen is others coming alongside those who are grieving and helping to bear that grief. To go and listen to someone who is hurting, to let them know you are there and to give them genuine care and compassion, does not take away the grief, but it shares it. When the load is shared between more than one person, it starts to become lighter. After one particularly emotional visit for me, I realized that I had left this person's home with more grief than I had gone in, but I had seen in this person's face a relief, a lightening of the heaviness of the burden they carry. The grief was not too much for me to help shoulder and it is truly a place that I consider incredibly holy. To be allowed into someone else's grief and space of mourning is to be welcomed into an innermost sanctuary and I am always aware of the honor that I have received to be there. When I carry the grief of others with me I recognize that it is not just mine to bear, either. I return the grief, the pain, the loss, the gratitude for the opportunity, to God. I recognize that it all belongs to God in the end and that if I try to bear the collective griefs of a community it will burn me out. They are not mine to keep, they are mine to hold for a time. So, I ask you friends, be aware of the grief of others. Save space for grief to take form as it will, for others and for yourself. Be gentle with yourself in your own grieving with the recognition that your process may not look like anyone else's and that is completely ok. Recognize that your tears and your cries are not something that needs to be hidden for the comfort of others. Your grief and your healing are yours. And, as in all things, may the peace of God be with you.
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AuthorI've been Robyn for my whole life. I've been a wife for 10 years and a mom for 5 years. I've been a pastor for about 10 years. I'm still stumbling, but I'm still standing. Archives
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