Grounded in Grief

At the November gathering of the Grounded youth ministry community, the theme was perhaps surprising for such an event: Grounded in Grief. While one might associate grief with later stages of life after our “carefree youth,” I am sure you know that our young people often carry very heavy burdens of loss, anxiety, uncertainty, loneliness, high expectations from self and others, and much more. Their courage and faith often inspire me for the Church’s future, as well as in the present time.

I was honored to share a few thoughts to frame their discussions, and I offer them here. I know well that there are many of you far more versed in grief, both from professional expertise and painful personal experience. But that is perhaps one of the most important messages about grief: it is unique to each person and each loss, and there is no “right way” to grieve.

In I Thessalonians 4:13, St. Paul writes: “We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” Paul does not tell us not to grieve – it is a normal, fitting, human, and healthy response to losses in life. But our Christian grief, real and appropriate as it is, has a deeper element: hope.

Loss takes many forms. It may be a loved one who has died. It may be a friend who has moved away or from whom you have become estranged. Perhaps it is a family member who has become distant, or another relationship that you miss.

We can also experience grief with other things we have lost: abilities or skills we enjoyed earlier in life, a job, a valued possession, our loss of trust, or self-confidence, or reputation, or faith that has lost its earlier fervor. For many in our diocese with All Things New, people grieve over parish life that has changed or churches that will close.

Grief is a measure of love. Grief and love are intrinsically linked to one another. The deeper our connections, the more profound our sense of loss, emptiness, disorientation and disruption.

In 1969, Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote her renowned book, On Death and Dying. While much development followed in this field, her “five stages of grief ” remain influential.

The five stages she observed are: Denial (“This can’t be happening, it’s not real, tomorrow things will be back to normal”); Anger (the powerless frustration that leads to anger at God, at oneself, at the person who is dying or who has died, at family members, at the care team); Bargaining (“God, if you just change this, just heal my loved one, I will become a better person”); Depression (loss of purpose and interest in life, overwhelming sadness, a sense of hopelessness); and Acceptance (things are forever different, the loss is real, I am still saddened, but I am adjusting to the reality and a new way of being).

Dr. Kubler-Ross is insistent that this is not a recipe for the “right way” to grieve. She is simply observing through years of her work with the dying and their families what people tend to do. Some may go through the stages in a different order, may repeat stages, may skip some altogether. Grief is unique to each person, and there is no timeframe or deadline to grieve.

But she also found that support – professional and personal – can ease the experience of grief without taking away this normal experience or feeling judgmental.

In the thousands of pages in his masterwork the Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas Aquinas has a discussion on the remedies for sadness (IaIIae, 38). They include tears; talking with a friend; simple comforts like sleep, a warm bath, doing a hobby; and the contemplation of the truth. The latter may be spiritual reflection on the goodness and providence of God, but I also think of simple truths like 2+2=4 – even when one’s world seems like it is falling apart, the law of gravity still works and some things are always reliable, including the mercy of God.

As grief is caused by love that is lost somehow, grief is healed by love given back. God is with us always, especially in grief, and we look forward to the resurrection and the communion of saints, as our Creed states.

Many have found that grief slowly yields to inner peace and a deeper trust. Along the way, things that often ease that passage are reaching out to others when we are ready – we recognize love still exists; reaching out to serve others in some way; and persistent and deeply honest prayer. For those who accompany another in grief, the first and greatest skill is simply to listen with pressure or expectation, or even be present in the silence of the other.

Living through the universal human experience of grief honors the lives of loved ones and other kinds of goodness no longer with us. It teaches us patience and resilience. And, it deepens our sense of hope in the goodness and love of God.