During the homily at Mass the first Sunday of this Lent, the pastor of our parish went among the pews with mic in hand asking the congregation, “What is robbing you of joy and peace?”
The answers to his question were varied, ranging from “traffic” to “lack of sleep” to “T-R-U-M-P.”
As varied as everyone’s answers were on the outside, I sensed a shared and fundamental variable on the inside. What really did “traffic” point to? Time lost getting to a dying loved one? What really did “lack of sleep” point to? Worry if there will be money enough next month to pay the rent and to feed the family? What really did “T-R-U-M-P” point to? Dreaded goodbyes to cherished friends and relations?
There was at the heart of each answer really only one thief: grief or rather, the inability to grieve.
As humans on this earth there is no escaping grief. We find ourselves in fact in a valley of tears. All of us naturally turn away from pain. We typically fight, freeze before, flee from or feign our way through our disappointments, heartaches and sorrows.
And it is in doing so that we render inaccessible the deep joy and deep peace that is profoundly available on the other side of our pain.
To encounter and to know that depth of Christ’s joy and Christ’s peace on the other side, the invitation is to face that which we fear, the invitation is to meet our grief not with angry tears but ultimately with sad tears, tears that bathe and water our weary souls, fortifying our fortitude for future trials; the invitation is to walk through death (whatever it is that we are being called to die to) in order to know new life; the invitation is to endure the dark night in order to know the beautifully blinding light of day that awaits us on the other side of the stone that yes, for us too shall be rolled away.
And so my prayer for you and I this Lent, this Easter and for all seasons thereafter is to be able to grieve as Jesus did, weeping over the death of Lazarus, so that we may also rejoice as Jesus did when Lazarus was raised from the dead.
Amen.
Jen Spicer lives in Mission.
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