Lamentations: The Anguish of Loss

UP

I grew up with a pretty expansive library of Disney films on VHS. I think they are still in my mom’s basement. I say that, because I think that the first time that I ever really experienced the reality of death was in the terrible opening scene of Bambi. You remember that? Yeah I don’t know what that was all about, but man it never stops hurting. Disney has a reputation for being heart warming, but every now and then they throw you a real curveball (don’t even get me started on Old Yeller.)

But the worst of them all, and by worst, I mean best laid out, best orchestrated, and most real depiction of loss can be found in the first 10 minutes of Disney-Pixar’s 2009 masterpiece, UP.

The scene is a montage that depicts the life of Carl and Ellie as they navigate young love, marriage, infertility, careers, and the hope that some day they can make it on a once in a lifetime vacation to paradise falls so Ellie can watch the clouds. Carl makes his way to the travel agency and just as he arrives home to show Ellie, she collapses. She passes away, with the final scenes being her funeral in the church they were married in and then Carl, climbing up the stairs and into the home that they built together, alone — clutching a balloon like the one Ellie once bought him.

If you ever need to do a quick gut check to find out if you’re still human and if you still have any feelings left inside of you then just search for “UP opening scene” on YouTube. If you cry then you pass the test, ok.

But other than rudely making unsuspecting viewers ugly cry during the first 10 min of a family movie, the opening scene of UP or even Bambi, invite the audience to a time of empathetic reflection and solidarity as we reflect on the deep wound that losing someone we love leaves us with. There’s never a good time for it, there’s never a time when it doesn’t hurt, and there’s never a time when we don’t need to mourn and grieve the loss of loved ones.

On this All-Saints Sunday we recognize that we have lost many this year and over the course of our lives who have shaped us, who have shared something special and unique with us, some of whom we never met face to face. We celebrate their lives, the gifts that God entrusted to them, the ways that their unique portrayal of God’s image impacted and changed their world forever.

But we also put words to our human loss. We recognize that lives well lived for God’s glory leave gaping holes in our hearts, in our communities, and in our church. So while we thank God for these Saints of the Church, we recognize and hold space for the grief that we continue to work through. We recognize that wherever we are, it’s ok. And so if you aren’t ok… listen to me, if you aren’t ok… that’s ok. Nowhere ever anywhere in the Bible does it say that you have to be ok. Jesus is ok enough for you. You can be a mess, you can be falling apart, you can be sad all of the time, you can be not OK.

In fact, being ok with not being ok is kind of the point of this whole sermon series. Lament is voicing the fact that you’re not ok with whatever it is in life that is crushing your spirit. Lament is modeled, encouraged, and even prescribed in the Bible as a means of protesting the injustice and brokenness of this world.

Tears

Last week I introduced a means of moving through the grief that we experience as persons who live in this mess of a world. That process is — Tears, Talk, and Time. Today we are going to focus in on step one of this — Tears. You might have cried already last week. And that’s good. Tears are healthy. So healthy in fact in the second poem of the book of Lamentations, the author says this to the exiled people of Israel who are looking back on their war torn nation and the destruction of their home.

Lamentations 2:18–19 NRSV

Cry aloud to the Lord! O wall of daughter Zion! Let tears stream down like a torrent day and night! Give yourself no rest, your eyes no respite! Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the watches! Pour out your heart like water before the presence of the Lord! Lift your hands to him for the lives of your children, who faint for hunger at the head of every street.

I think that one of the most beautiful things about our Bibles is that they don’t treat us like a lot of the world treats us. They don’t tell us to dust ourselves off and get it together. They tell us to be a mess, To cry and to weep and to yell. They say pour out your heart like water.

The Bible tells us this, because the Bible is a consistent reminder of the character of God, whose image we are made in. We are given a consistent message that the brokenness of the world, that evil, suffering, and death are realities that break God’s heart, that God himself weeps over — because things just aren’t supposed to be this way.

In the Gospel of John, we find a really compelling argument for the divinity of Jesus. That is John’s main point, which he makes clear is the purpose for writing down his account of Jesus’s life. So it’s interesting that right about in the middle of John’s book, in Chapter 11 we find a curious story.

Jesus had some friends who lived in the town of Bethany. You may remember their names — Mary and Martha. Now Mary and Martha had a brother, and as it turns out, their brother was one of Jesus’s very best friends. His name was Lazarus. Word came to Jesus that Lazarus was ill, and so he and the disciples made the journey to Bethany so that Jesus could heal Lazarus. But they get there too late. Like 4 days too late. Lazarus has been dead and buried. Martha confronts Jesus like, “dude if you were here my brother would not have died. What took so long.”

And Jesus does what Jesus does and kind of talks in riddles about the Resurrection. Then, after she goes home, Mary leaves to go meet with Jesus. This is the text from John:

John 11:30–33 NRSV

Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.

So we have this depiction of communal grief. It’s not hidden, in fact it’s so public that others come to share in Mary’s grief over the loss of her brother. Mary doesn’t try to hide her tears from Jesus, but rather kneels down to weep at his feet. And the response from Jesus is this:

John 11:34–36 NRSV

He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

Jesus’s response to Mary’s grief? Sharing in it himself. Jesus’s response to the death of his friend? Weeping. Jesus, the one who not only had the power, but the one who would in the very next part of the story, raise this man Lazarus from the grave, wept over the loss of his friend still.

In this Gospel, which emphasizes the fact that Jesus Christ IS GOD, God is depicted as someone who is greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved by the suffering of humans. God is depicted as A MAN WHO CRIES. Proving false now and forevermore the old lie that “real men don’t cry.” Oh no. Real men cry. Real women cry. Crying is a reality that is deeply ingrained in the image of God that we all bear. To cry is to be authentically human. To cry is to be like Jesus.

Sitting at the Tomb

Perhaps the greatest lesson that we learn from Jesus’s time in Bethany is the importance of allowing space for this first step in the grieving process. Jesus didn’t NEED to cry. Jesus was about to fix it. But the space was left there anyway. Jesus didn’t say “Mary don’t cry, Martha don’t be sad, I’m gonna fix it.”

Jesus instead walked and wept with the sisters. The Jewish community that was with Mary and Martha accompanied her and wept with her. There is strength in numbers. The community that comes together in times of great sadness to hold one another up through their tears is a gift that God has given to us.

And that is our task, not only on this All Saints Sunday, but as a community going forward. We are called to cry our own tears, to allow the hurt and pain that we experience as a result of our suffering and as a result of the loss of those that we love to pour out like water before God. To allow tears to cleanse us, to remind us of the brokenness of our world, and to allow us to be like Jesus and experience grief the way that Jesus experienced grief.

The world is not on a trajectory to become less broken. But we can be a people who, in the midst of the brokenness, hold space for the tears of the world. We don’t have to be the people who only see the world through rose colored glasses. We can be people who recognize the mess, who kneel together at the feet of Jesus and weep. We can be people who together cry the tears that begin the process of healing.

So this week, the task is simple. Allow yourself to cry if you need to. Allow someone around you to cry if they need to. Allow yourself to be sad, to mourn your losses. Allow yourself to be like Jesus.