Grief Like Milk

Sep 24

10 min read

The following is the manuscript of Rev. Jill Hudson's homily on the following Scriptures: 2 Samuel 1:17-27, Ezekiel 19:1-3, 10-14, Revelation 21:1-7, and Matthew 5:1-9.

I’ve been thinking a lot about grief. Living with grief. Dealing with grief. Swimming in grief. Trying to get over grief. Intellectualizing grief. Studying grief. Ignoring grief. Facing grief. Dreaming about grief. Seeing grief in so many places.

It should have been no surprise to me that God would tap on my shoulder this week and ask me to preach. No one had signed up to preach and I thought we might just have a service without a homily. That’s really fine by me. No big loss. It’ll be a nice change of pace. I even made plans about how I would definitely not sign up to preach because this past week was going to be such a bear of a week. Me over here making plans. God over there tapping on my shoulder. It’s a fun relationship.

When God first knocked on the door of my heart, it wasn’t a super emotional moment. My sister had been leading me through the Roman road every week after Wednesday night GAs and so I knew all of the steps to salvation. Accept that you’re a sinner. Believe in the Jesus’ power to save you. Confess your sins. It wasn’t complicated. But it didn’t stir my heart.

Nope. The thing that convinced me to give Christ a real shot at being my Lord and Savior was the fact that my best friend from church, Martha Johnson, was getting baptized and I didn’t want to be left behind. See I had grown up in church. There was never a moment when I did not believe that God was capable of anything and everything. There was never a moment when I did not believe that God was kind, loving, and near. There was never a moment when I didn’t readily acknowledge that I was a sinner in need of a Savior. But I kept waiting for a major feel-good kind of moment to make this decision but it just wouldn’t come.

But I sure as heck didn’t want Martha to leave me in the dust. So one Sunday night after my mom had tucked me into bed, I had the following conversation with God:

Me: So I guess we should do this thing.

God: Yep.

Me: You better not screw this up.

God: I won’t.

Me: You better not let me down.

God: I won’t.

Me: How about this? I’ll trust in You and believe in You and follow You for as long as you don’t let me down and give me a reason not to trust, believe in and follow You. Deal?

God: Deal.

See it isn’t always earth-shattering, mountaintop kinds of moments when we encounter

God. It can be in the quiet of your bedroom, tucked tight into the sheets, talking with God like a ten year old would talk with their best friend. It can still be meaningful. Life changing. And impactful.

That’s been the nature of my relationship with God. It’s like God has always been there. I can’t ever remember a time when God was not there. Talking to me. Carrying on the longest, most ridiculous conversations. Laughing with me. Honestly, probably at times laughing at me. Loving me. Listening to me. Guiding me. Sitting in the quiet with me. Allowing me just to be me. Slowly molding me more and more into the likeness of who I am designed to be. Showing me patience. Showing me kindness. Showing me grace.

God is seriously my very best friend. And we just chat all day. So it wasn’t super surprising to feel the tap this Thursday evening. I’d honestly already been feeling an urging to read the lectionary texts and see what the vibe for this week even was, but like I said, this week was a bear and I hadn’t had time. Then on Thursday I traveled to Dallas for a work event and I found myself all tucked into my hotel room by 6pm that evening.

“Read the lectionary texts, “ God said.

“I’m eating dinner, “ I said.

Then a little while later after my food was eaten.

“Read the lectionary texts, “ God said.

“I’m trying to relax and watch TV,” I said.

Then a little while later after that movie ended.

“Read the lectionary texts, “ God said.

“I’m channel surfing for Friends,” I said.

Then there wasn’t anything on to watch. So I turned off the TV and read the blasted lectionary texts.

And guess what they were all about? Grief.

I read through all four texts, through the Text Notes and through the Preaching Prompts and then texted Brandon to tell him I was feeling led to preach.

“Fine,” I said to God. “I’ll do it. But it’s not going to be pretty. I’m a mess. I cry at everything. I’ll probably cry during the sermon. But I’ll do it.”

“Good.” God said, “Atta girl.”

Me: sighs deeply and goes to bed

——-

At the Compassion and Justice Conference I attended this week, the speakers talked about justice for native people, compassion for immigrants and ways of being connected to policymakers. It was heavy. Filled with grief. Filled with loss. Filled with hope.

The weight of so much grief and loss and heartache is what has me occupied this week. Really for many weeks now. It comes more on some days and some weeks than others, but in the last two weeks I have felt heavier and more raw with my emotions. When I get this way, my therapist says to increase self-care so I try to go to bed earlier, soak in a tub, get a pedicure, watercolor something for fun, embroidery, or you know, try to relax and watch TV in a hotel room that I have all to myself. So much for the last one….

The Biblical model that we see in our texts today is to lament when we feel this kind of grief and loss and heartache. Laments in the Bible typically follow four steps: address, complaint, request, expression of trust.

Let’s try it.

Address: [insert your favorite name for God here]

Complaint: [insert what you are feeling strong emotions about. Name the emotions. Name the reasons. Be really honest.]

Request: [ask God to do something specific about your complaint. It doesn't have to be logical or reasonable.]

Expression of Trust: [insert a reason that God is able to be believed]

——-

In Afghanistan where the Taliban are in power, it is now illegal for a woman’s voice to be heard in public.

Just sit with that for a moment.

In a country where women have been educated and then denied access to knowledge,

where they have been freed and then captured,

where they have been given hope and possibility and then had their rights incrementally stripped away,

where they are required to dress a certain way,

be accompanied at all times by a male relative,

are not even allowed to look at a male that is not a relation,

now their very voices are illegal.

To make a noise in public can result in torture, rape, and imprisonment.

They cannot even go to the market and buy food. How would they be able to accomplish this without making a sound?

So to avoid prison, they must be prisoners in their own homes. They have been confined to the only roles deemed appropriate by their religious leaders: child bearers and caretakers.

Think of the grief of these women. Sit with them in their grief. Lament the daily losses they are enduring.

Address: [insert your favorite name for God here]

Complaint: [insert what you are feeling strong emotions about. Name the emotions. Name the reasons. Be really honest.]

Request: [ask God to do something specific about your complaint. It doesn't have to be logical or reasonable.]

Expression of Trust: [insert a reason that God is able to be believed]

——-

In 2 Samuel, David composes and sings and teaches a lamentation to the people of Judah over the loss of Saul and Jonathan. The Book of Jashar that this lament comes from has been lost to us. It was likely a book of poetry and is sometimes referred to as “The Book of the Upright.” Actually the text best reads that David “keened a keening” over the loss of Saul and Jonathan. A keening is a lament for the dead. It was traditionally composed and performed by women, groups of women, at the wake and burial site. This was a job that women apprenticed to do. They learned from a master and joined guilds that would keen. In this particular lament, it is interesting to note that the Philistine women would be composing and singing in celebration while the Israelite women would be composing and singing in mourning.

This lament teaches us that grieving is important. No matter who you are. No matter what world-changing events are unfolding. Lament is a must.

——-

Listening this week to the presenters at the Compassion and Justice Conference, I was reminded again of the heaviness of the wall that divides not just two countries, but two political parties, essentially our nation, as well as believers and families. There is so much fear of immigrants in our country. Fear that someone is different than me. Looks different. Speaks different. Fear that they think differently. Believe differently. Worship differently.

I wonder why can I not deal with other people’s differences with compassion. Mostly because I don’t know how to deal with my own pain.

To deal with our own pain, we need to lament. To sit in and with our pain and talk to God about it. Not fix it and then come to church. Not gloss over it and put a happy smile on.

Our job as Christians is literally to be the neighbor to those who are suffering, even if Christian culture says not to. Suffering involves loss. Loss brings grief. Grief needs to lead to lament.

So to be a good neighbor, I need to learn to lament.

Lament is healthy and healing.

——-

Jesus says so right there in the Beatitudes.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the majesty of the heavens.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

There’s that grief again. That lament. That loss. Blessed are those who mourn. The Message says, “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you.”

It doesn’t feel that way when I’m in the midst of the deepness of the loss. When I am consumed by the grief. When the waves of pain and anguish tear through my body over and again. It doesn’t feel like I’m blessed.

Over the past six months, I have felt loss like never before. And it doesn’t feel like I’m blessed when I am surprised by yet another loss that had not yet occurred to me before that moment. When it catches my breath and the tears come and I am lost in the pain of what I had dreamed of that will not come true and must face the harsh reality of my current situation and the sandpaper that it feels like against the hopes that I was just holding.

That doesn’t feel like a blessing.

Just like it didn’t seem like a blessing in Ezekiel as Judah mourned the loss of its monarchy. The decline and fall was the last vestige of hope for a self-governing land. It was a huge loss. Not just for the royal sons of Judah but for the daughters too. The perils faced by the last princesses of Judah were terrifying - rape, capture, forced marriage, violence.

The canticle described in the verses for today are titled “Your Mother, A Lioness” by Dr. Gafney. The central figure is described as a lioness and a tree in feminine language. This passage is a good one to hold in tension with the passage from 2 Samuel so that we remember that not only were royal men mourned but also royal women.

I resonate with the last verses of our passage from Ezekiel, beginning in verse 12:

“Then she was uprooted in a rage, she was thrown to the ground,

The east wind withered her fruit, they were stripped off,

Her strongest stem was withered, then consumed by fire.

Now she is planted in the wilderness,

In a dry and thirsty land.”

Oof.

Let’s listen to verse 13 again:

“Now she is planted in the wilderness,

In a dry and thirsty land.”

Being planted in a dry and thirsty land does not feel like a blessing.

It feels like a curse.

If you are a plant, you need three things to survive. One is definitely water. It is a non-negotiable. And you’ve been planted in a land that is dying of thirst. How is that a blessing?

——-

Our Scriptures for today say - Tell God. Talk to God. Lament. Mourn the losses. Be upset. Get angry. Cry. Stomp. Shout. Give yourself the freedom to be honest and forthright and emotional right in front of your Creator.

Remember that you are made in the image of God. So if you feel angry. Be angry right in the face of your Creator. Who do you think created anger and emotions?

Emotions are from God and are God-like. They are not surprising to your Creator.

If you are sad and feel deep loss, tell Christ all about it. Deep loss is something Jesus knows a thing or two about.

If you want to cry, cry with all of your heart right along side the Spirit. The Holy Spirit knows your heart and is your heart and feels your heart. Invite the Spirit into your tears.

Grieve. Emote. Request help in dealing with your pain.

Be seen.

Be heard.

Be alive.

Lament.

——-

The Good News does not stave off grief. No. The comfort of the Gospel honors and responds to grief.

Revelation 21:4 says:

“God will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

Grief and weeping and pain will be no more,

For the first things have passed away.”

As believers, we live in a weird liminal space of already and not yet.

“God will wipe every tear from their eyes.”Note that there are tears to be able to wipe away. So grief is still occurring but we also know that God will wipe away the tears. And also the pain with that right now grief is still very real.

“Death will be no more.” Note that for death to be no more, that there is at some point in the past a time when death is still a thing. That’s us right now. Death of a relationship. Death of a loved one. Death of an imagined future. We know that death will be no more because we are offered eternal life. And also death is very real for us right now.

“Grief and weeping and pain will be no more.” I mean, good! Amen! Hallelujah! And also that means that right now grief and weeping and pain are very true realities.

This is the purpose of lament.

Address God.

Tell God all about it.

Ask for relief.

Express your trust.