“In the Midst of Grief” – Sermon for Easter 3A

Perhaps one of the most difficult experiences we can have as humans is to lose someone we love, to navigate our grief.

When a loved one dies, we are faced not only with our distress over the loss.  We may be in anguish about how they died – the pain they may have suffered, the agitation they may have experienced, perhaps the way they struggled to breathe.  We may feel traumatized by how their last days, weeks, months, or even years went.

Can you imagine how the two walking on the road to Emmaus felt after seeing their beloved Jesus beaten, made to carry the cross, and crucified? 

When a loved one dies, we may be left with an empty feeling over unresolved issues or unrealized dreams…We might carry sadness that a loved one may have been unable to complete something they really wanted to do…like a project or work of art they hoped to finish, or visiting a place or person they had hoped to see, or fulfill certain dreams that did not come true. 

Perhaps even more painful for us are those things we had hoped, even planned to do together, that will never come to fruition.  Twenty years ago, the day after my father died, I found a postcard he’d sent from his favorite place, Aruba – “I want to take you and Pete (my son) here soon.” I wept knowing that day would never come, those memories would never be made.  Perhaps you can relate.

Many of you know the pain of a spouse or primary person in your life dying. So many of you have experienced what it feels like to know that the hopes you had for your future with this loved one will never happen. 

The two on the road to Emmaus had hoped that their beloved Jesus was creating a new, wonderful future for them; a future free from Roman rule, free from oppression, a future where they could at long last live in harmony and peace.  Instead, Jesus was crucified. And with him, their dreams for the future.

As this grieving pair is walking down the road talking about everything that happened, Luke tells us they were sad and disappointed.  “We had hoped” they said.  “We had hoped…”

On April 9th of last year, the day our friend Rev. Elizabeth King died, her partner, Laurie, was waiting for her at home. They had planned to do one of their favorite things that afternoon together – to go to the Y for a swim.  Instead Laurie was summoned to the hospital, her beloved shockingly gone, like a mighty oak tree felled by a storm you could not see coming. Elizabeth, dead at the age of 64 from a heart attack.  

Laurie called me from the hospital, while I was talking with our Rev. ElizaBeth Emery over Zoom. When she told me what happened, Rev. Elizabeth and I dropped everything and raced over to Addison Gilbert.  The three of us were overcome. I brought some anointing oil from the Holy Land that Saira Austin had given me some months before.  Together, we reverently anointed Elizabeth’s body and blessed her spirit. 

When you are with someone when they die, you will never forget it. 

The larger than life, vital Elizabeth King was gone. She and Laurie would never swim at the Y or Folly Cove or in Florida or the Caribbean again. She would not ever finish organizing her books or other belongings.  She would not be going back to Cynthia Curtis’ pottery studio to make her next fabulous creation.  And she would not see the transformation of Tabernacle Church in Salem into housing for veterans – something that she had worked so hard on.  In an instant, all that she had hoped, all that she and Laurie had hoped for together, was over. 

That is the nature of loss.  It is deeply painful. But, it is not without grace. 

If you’ve been present at the bedside when a loved one dies, you may have experienced the way peace settles in a room. Later, as you gather with family and friends and begin to remember the person, to tell the stories of their life, you may sense God’s closeness.

Sometimes in the immediate aftermath of death, there is a felt need to get out of town, like these disciples who decide to walk 7 miles to Emmaus, a place whose name means “refreshing spring.” After a profound loss, we may need to get away from where we have experienced such deep pain and go someplace to be refreshed.  Days after we buried my brother, David and I traveled from our home in New York to rest in Rockport for the weekend.  After our sweet kitty died last summer, we went to Maine. Perhaps you have done a similar thing.

Whether or not you left town for a while after the death of a loved one, there is a strong need to talk about what just happened, to try to make sense of it. It’s a crucial part of the process of grieving. 

The Risen Jesus gives us a master class in how to be with those who are grieving. 

While they are walking on the way out of town, on the way to Emmaus, he simply comes alongside the pair and asks an open-ended question, “What are you discussing?” The Risen Jesus gives this grieving duo an opportunity to tell the story of what just happened.  And then he listens.  

Friends, the most important thing we can do for someone who is grieving is to give them the chance to tell their story and simply listen. We don’t need the “right words,” we just need to be present and listen.

Jesus gives the disciples permission to name their grief, to name their disappointment, to feel what they are feeling. Only after they share their story does he present a larger perspective for what has happened.  He helps them see that even though things did not go as they expected or hoped or wanted, God is still at work, present in unexpected ways. 

The Risen Lord gives the disciples what is most important – his presence with them in the midst of their grief and a way to navigate their grief with grace.  Isn’t that what we need when things do not turn out the way we want or hope? When we are devastated by loss? When we can’t imagine what the future will look like without the one who has died? To know that God’s love and presence will accompany us through our losses? 

Last Saturday, to honor the anniversary of Elizabeth’s passing, her partner, Laurie – who had moved to be closer to family in Oregon – returned here to remember Elizabeth.

She invited some of Elizabeth’s closest friends, including Rev. Elizabeth, her sister, Jane, and me, to come together over a meal for a time of remembrance. There were about 12 of us who knew Elizabeth over the years as friend, neighbor, mentor, colleague, and partner. Many of us didn’t know some of the others who were there. 

It was one of the most profound experiences of remembrance I have ever had.

Like we do for coffee hour and potlucks, Laurie set out delicious food and drink on the tables in the Cove Room.  She invited us to take something sweet (fruit, muffins, and incredible cinnamon rolls) and to gather in the area where the couches are.  Then, after thanking us for coming, Laurie simply asked us to share how we knew Elizabeth. 

The stories! Such stories! Filled with laughter and tears and amazement.  As we told the stories, Elizabeth was there.  

When it was over, I thought, “I wish everyone would do something like this on the anniversary of the death of a loved one.” It was so healing, moving, and inspiring.  I left feeling that I knew Elizabeth even better.

No wonder the disciples want the Risen Lord to stay with them and share a meal. No wonder they sense Christ’s presence around the table. No wonder they are excited to tell their friends about it. 

So, if you are grieving, keep talking, keep telling the stories that need to be told.  Whether you share those stories with one person or, if you can, with a group of people who also love the person you are grieving, grace will be present. (An organization new to Gloucester, called E-motion,  is offering an 8 week walking grief group on Sunday mornings. It started last week. Information is available in the daily email and a flyer in the narthex.)

And, if you are not actively grieving, but you know someone who is, show up.  Give a call.  See if they want to go for a walk.  Or out for a meal. Then listen. Just listen.  Grace will be with you.

Again and again and again in life, we all will lose someone we love.  We all will experience the pain of being human, grief. But, know this, remember this:  Our Risen Lord walks with us.  There is grace to be found in the midst of grief. Amen. 

Image credit: Mike Torevell