Care in Our Grieving Community
On Tuesday this week my husband Andrew turned 70 years old, but the bubbles we put in the fridge that morning are still there unopened, because that day we went for an appointment with his urologist, to discuss the advance of his prostate cancer. We received bad news his PSA levels had increased, but that we need to wait another few months to have a PET scan to determine what treatment is required. Fortunately, Andrew is still feeling well and not in any pain caused by cancer, but around us in our community Vic is suffering with severe pain, Ann has endured another risky surgery to reattach her stomach and relieve pressure on her heart, thankfully it was successful! Jo is also living with pain from her cancer yet it’s wonderful she is here with us today, feeling well enough to join us. (Jean shared with us today that she has been diagnosed with, and is receiving treatment for, myeloma, that is blood cancer.)
… and we think of Jet, Leigh and Roger who are accompanying and caring for their loved ones at this time.
The psalm set for today affirms that death and suffering are ever-present in life… and that because we love, we are already destined to grieve. We cry out for mercy when we are overcome with sorrow, when those we love are suffering and dying, and for ourselves when we are in trouble and pain. Jesus Sophia was moved with pity seeing the suffering of the crowds who followed him. He sent out the twelve disciples to continue healing sickness and diseases – a precursor to what happened after Pentecost when his followers were empowered by the gift of the Spirit and went boldly out into the world to spread the Good News, with the Same Spirit that was in Sophia Christ. The writer of the poem, The Same Spirit, speaking in the voice of the apostle Paul, begins by exhorting us to “embrace life’s warm flow within!” Let’s give thanks while we have health and fitness, mobility and mental agility, and live with awareness of the inevitability of our mortality.
Jan, Jeanette and I want to share our experiences at Pilgrim Theological College, focussed on Care at Death’s Door and in a Grieving Church, where we sought help to equip us further, to pastor and minister with our community in times of grief and suffering.
Both mini intensives were led by Stephen Burns. In Care at Death’s Door, we were encouraged to be with individuals and families around the time of death, collecting prayer resources to pray with people in hospital and at home in the time close to death, and to prepare funeral services from a range of resources. For Care in a Grieving Church, we read memoir and poetry, about the deaths of loved ones and the grief of those left behind. We saw how
- Experiences of grief for the death of a loved one are different in every circumstance; the form grief takes cannot be assumed
- The rawness and range of emotions after a loved one’s death have no pattern.
- We talked briefly about the model of Stages of Grief and dismissed it as no longer very helpful. The stages described, like anger, denial, acceptance, are certainly not experienced in a linear progression
- For many, God’s absence is felt more than God’s presence by those whose loved one has died. We read excerpts from C.S. Lewis’ book, A Grief Observed where he stridently railed against God – enraged by the death of his wife Joy Davidman. After living as a bachelor most of his life, C.S. Lewis had finally found love, but Joy lived just four years after their marriage.
We also read from those who had received a terminal diagnosis.
One writer, (and theologian) Richard R. Gailliardetz, reflected on his experience after a terminal diagnosis: He writes:
“We are all walking over an abyss – whether you have a diagnosis or not.” He describes how the fog clears now that he has a diagnosis and the book he wrote is “a rough reportage of life on the tightrope.”
In that year before he died, he focussed on the mysticism of daily life, and found a profound sense of gratitude (not through rose tinted glasses) but said, “while I breathe, I hope” (the title of his book). He poignantly describes holding his first grandchild, whose birth he had hoped to witness. In baby Elliot’s gaze he experienced gratitude for the gift of new life, and for receiving the gift from Elliot of hope of eternal love. Now he felt he could, like Simeon of old say, “Now let me depart in peace”…. “I could die today with no regrets”. When he attended Elliot’s baptism, he foresaw his own funeral in some of the ritual elements – Elliot’s white christening gown, and the white pall over his own coffin.
Gailliardetz quotes Etty Hillesum, who lived in Amsterdam during WWII, and suffered under the persecutions of the Nazis, In the context of supporting Jewish families at that time, and in daily risk herself, she came to accept what sounds paradoxical, “by excluding death from our life we cannot live a full life, and by admitting death into our life we enlarge and enrich it.” Ultimately Etty herself was transported and died at Auschwitz, but her letters and diaries were later found and published.
Let’s consider how can we encourage this congregation, our faith community of Sophia’s Spring, to be a place where grief can be welcomed and embraced, (that is not to say to be enjoyed) – but a place where the real conversations can happen and be held with sacred care?
How best to offer care to those who are living with terminal diagnoses? How to support those who are caring for them.
What are some practical things we are preparing?
- How to be with each other in difficult times: In caring for those in grief accepting that silence is not to be avoided, and that being with can be enough
- How to ensure we don’t overwhelm with care – some protocols around communications. Thankful to Vic and Leigh for the message they have included in our weekly newsletter this week, (and for Jean’s reading this morning)
- Next Sunday for the Winter Solstice Jan is preparing a Midwinter service with poetry and readings that reflect on death
- The three of us are preparing some resources for funerals and celebrations with Sophia language and liturgy
- We are visiting other venues if the LC is not available or suitable
Invite conversation….
There was another issue I wanted, at least acknowledged if not addressed, in our class, and that is the grief we experience for the suffering of the planet in this human made climate crisis. Let’s acknowledge with gratitude the love that encircles all Creation is within and around us too.
Let’s sing the Iona chant, Lo, I am with you, by John L. Bell, and Janet will lead the first line as cantor.
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