Grief and Glory
/One thing I appreciate about Lent is how this season invites us to hold difficult human experiences in a holy space. As we walk through these days, we encounter temptation, brokenness, sin, and, this Sunday, grief. I understand why people don’t love the idea of focusing on suffering and why some use Lent as a chance to simplify life and increase prayer. In fact, I often try to simplify and pray more during this time too. However, it can be healing to reflect on the meaning of suffering and maybe even consider my own hard times. If you hear this invitation too, let’s get into it, shall we?
When I read the Gospel story about the raising of Lazarus, what I notice is grief radiating from everyone in the story — Mary and Martha, of course, the crowd, and even Jesus. When Jesus and the disciples arrive in Bethany, both Mary and Martha say to Jesus, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I hear a subtle accusation, one born of the anger that comes with grief. They’ve suffered through fear in the face of illness, and to their heartbreak, there was no healing, only death. Apparently, even if you’re a close friend of Jesus, you can’t escape uncertainty, fear, and grief. And, apparently, even if you are Jesus, you can’t escape those things either. Jesus is the son of God, and although his friends and followers all profess that, they don’t believe he can rectify this situation. I wonder what it’s like for Jesus to realize those closest to him still don’t believe in him with their whole hearts.
The story does have a happy ending, if you look at Lazarus being raised from the dead as the ending. It’s not, though, is it? He will continue on with a longer life, but the saga of grief isn’t over. For one thing, the trauma of losing Lazarus is still with them, just like it is whenever we go through something hard. The awareness of the fragility of life lingers, and the memory of loss is still present in body, mind, and spirit. Traumatic events change us, and we carry them with us. Also, partly because we read this story during Lent, we see how it relates to Jesus’s own suffering and death. We know that everyone in this story still has a journey to make to the cross with Jesus.
How does this relate to us? Do you draw any connections to your own hard times? One hard time we have in common is the past few years. 2020 and everything that came with it is like a giant line in the sand for the whole world, with the Before Time on one side and the Post Pandemic Time on the other. A lot happened during the official pandemic time, and the aftereffects linger. There plenty of other losses, related or unrelated to the pandemic. Losses of people, jobs, relationships. Some people feel a sense of loss when it comes to financial stability, mental and emotional wellbeing, and even trust, trust in leadership or simply a trust in general safety, that all is well in life.
I’m not trying to dredge up difficult feelings or harp on hard experiences, but I think it’s helpful to name the collective crisis we all endured, as well as other losses, and recognize that we’re still finding our way to the other side of it all. And moving through it, difficult though it may be, is exactly what we have to do with it. Denying loss is simply a bypass. The only way through grief is through.
This puts me in mind of an article published in the Harvard Business Review right at the beginning of the pandemic, almost exactly three years ago. It’s called “That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief,” and it’s an interview with David Kessler, a grief expert. He advises us to simply move through the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, and, finally, acceptance. “Acceptance, as you might imagine, is where the power lies. We find control in acceptance.”
It’s denial or bargaining to say, like Mary and Martha, “If only. “If only you had been here.” For us, it might sound like, “If only things could go back to the way they were before the pandemic.” “If only our money situation was more stable.” “If only things weren’t so uncertain,” and on and on. When I find myself moving through “if onlys,” as well as anger and sadness, it’s helpful to name what’s happening. It’s normal to feel those things, even if feeling them is painful. It’s also an interesting twist that power lies in accepting our powerlessness in a situation, but there it is. And I do feel better when I can work on what is in my power – my response to a situation.
Kessler suggests some things we can do to cope, like staying in the present moment, acknowledging our feelings, letting go of what is out of our control, being compassionate, and reminding ourselves that this is temporary. We never know how long any hard time will last, but life keeps moving and changing, and another stage will eventually emerge. After a crisis has subsided, we might, like Lazarus, come stumbling out of the tomb bound and bleary-eyed. We may not know what to make of the new life that emerges, but how we respond is up to us.
To those gathered around the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus says, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” Glory is not the first thing I look for when I’m going through a hard time, but I hope I can eventually find the presence of God through life’s hard experiences. Although it’s true that traumatic events stay with us, it’s also true that we grow and find strength through difficulty. After something happens to us, we are changed. If we allow it, we can also be transformed.
So, why is important to hold a space for our grief, sorrow, and pain — especially if we’d rather look away or just go about our lives as if those emotions were there? Because they are a part of life, but despite their difficulty, hard times offer us a chance to grow and to grow closer to God. And they allow God to touch us in these tender, achy places. Our struggles give God a chance to show us God’s love and to show us that we have cause to hope. And we do have cause to hope. Maybe hope is what God’s glory feels like.
By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP
Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, meaningful conversations, and being a Catholic Sister!
Berinato, Scott. “That Discomfort You're Feeling Is Grief.” Harvard Business Review. Harvard Business Review, March 23, 2020. https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief?fbclid=IwAR0VnKHwz-sKerjZ3gx26Gbqwu0qHNiIobCy4cemF5Oq7apwHk_mHsJ2iiY.