(John August Swanson, ‘Festival of
Lights’)
Isaiah 61:1-4
61 The
spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good
news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the
captives,
and release to the prisoners;
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
3 to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of
ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of
mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a
faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of
righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
4 They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former
devastations;
they shall repair the ruined
cities,
the devastations of many generations.
Revelation
21:1-5a
21 Then I saw a new heaven
and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and
the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the
new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned
for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from
the throne saying,
“See,
the home of God is among mortals. He
will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples, and God
himself will be with them;
4 he will wipe every tear from their
eyes.
Death will be no more; mourning and
crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”
5 And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making
all things new.”
A
‘cutting’ of tree wisdom (Genny Tunbridge)
Spring and Fall: To a young child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
G M Hopkins’ poem
(written in 1880) reflects on a child’s sorrow at falling autumn leaves: it is
a foretaste of other griefs that come to weigh on us as we grow older, of
mourning for a whole world of loss and decay, including our own mortality. Do
we, as Hopkins suggests, lose that childish grief over fallen leaves as we
mature and deal with adult losses? I think that most of us are still moved by
autumn leaves: first joy at the beauty of the turning colours, then sorrowing
at the reminder of death and decay as they fall. Maybe we can learn though to
see that in shedding their leaves, trees are not looking back but ‘remembering
forward’ to next spring: leaf colours change as green chlorophyll and vital
resources are withdrawn back into the trunk and roots, not lost but stored
there safely until needed for new leaves in the spring.
Introduction
to the theme (Al Barrett)
Entering November, we find ourselves in the four weeks before
Advent that the Church has in recent years called ‘the Kingdom season’. As we
said last week, although we now leave Black History Month behind us for this
year, this is not about ‘moving on’ from that time of remembering, but now
moving deeper and wider into our remembering. Over the next four
weeks, we have an opportunity – in these reflections, but also in various opportunities
to do things in our own homes, around our neighbourhood, and in the church
building and garden – to remember those we have loved and lost personally,
those who have died in the wars and conflicts of our world, and those saints
who have walked the way of faith before us.
But this remembering is not just about looking back,
to the past. It’s also about looking forward: ‘remembering the future’,
with the hope-filled promises of God in the words of the prophets of Scripture
and the lives and witnesses of the saints that light our way. And there is, in
this looking forward, multiple layers of timing that is often referred to as ‘now
and not yet’.
At a time when it’s almost impossible to make plans, to
second guess what might be around the corner for us – globally, nationally,
even locally – this ‘Kingdom season’ invites us to look towards God’s horizon:
the promise of God’s Kingdom, the new creation, in all its fullness. This
horizon is ‘not yet’: out of our reach, but ahead of us in a way that we
can keep in our sights and head towards. But God’s Kingdom, God’s new creation,
is also already springing up now, in our midst. Like seeds buried deep
in the ground, God’s Kingdom is growing beneath our feet, unseen, ready to
burst out into the light at the right time. Or, like little seedlings, it is
quietly peeking up above the ground, fragile but also determined, noticeable
(if we’re looking for it), but also very missable (if we’re not). But, like
seeds and seedlings, God’s Kingdom growing in the present requires us to invest
time, care and attention in nurturing it where we notice it – working with God,
the gardener, to grow it, protect it, enable it to flourish.
Today, then, we bring our memories and our grieving. Our
lament for what has slipped through our fingers. Our tears for the people we
have loved and lost, and for everything that has been lost – or become extinct
– in God’s good Earth. But we also come with eyes open, to look through the
tears for signs of hope, for possibilities of healing and restoration – for the
promise of the new heaven and the new earth – both now, and not yet.
Reflection (Gloria Smith)
The last time we heard
from Isaiah was in our Black History Month series of reflections and it was
very much about what was wrong with Israel and it was very much criticising the
Hebrews for their behaviour towards the poor and the disadvantaged and how the
leaders had let down the people. He was very much in the mode of giving them a
good telling off. If we contrast this with today’s reading we see that Isaiah
is full of hope for the Jewish people and in particular the marginalised and
the downtrodden. He declares himself the anointed one who is going to bring
good news to the broken-hearted, the prisoners, the captives and the oppressed.
He also includes those who are mourning by saying they will be comforted and be
given ‘a garland instead of ashes, the
oil of gladness instead of mourning.’ As a sign of mourning in Isaiah’s
time people would often have their head sprinkled with ashes. Isaiah says that
will be changed to ‘the oil of gladness’ which
was used in those days when celebrations were happening and people’s heads were
anointed with oil.
In Revelation we hear
that ‘…death will be no more, mourning
and crying and pain will be no more’ and finishes with saying “See I am making all things new” This is
a well-known passage commonly used at funerals to comfort mourners and is a
reminder of the resurrection.
It seems through Isaiah
and later through Revelation, God is declaring his intent to make things new,
better. In Luke Chapter 4 the same passage from Isaiah is used when Jesus
teaches in the synagogue in Nazareth just after he begins his ministry and that
is the key. God is making the possibility of things being made new by the
sending of his son Jesus into the world. There is hope for a better future
because of Jesus. But I wonder does it feel like that for you right now?
Today’s theme is ‘Who are we grieving?’ and I would add to
that ‘What are we grieving for?’
Since March of this year
it seems we have been doing a lot of mourning, mourning for the people we have
lost, mourning for the things that we are no longer able to do. I wonder in
this 8 months who and what have you been grieving for?
Take a moment to have a think.
I believe this pandemic
has brought grief to each and every one of us.
You may know someone who has died of Covid or other causes this year.
People were unable to grieve in the way they would have liked. Only a few
people were able to attend funerals and this meant many others have been left
mourning in the isolation of their own home.
We may have lost touch with family and friends, or not been able to do
something which gave us life and energy. One of the biggest things for me has
not been able to touch people: a handshake, a hug, or a gentle touch on the
arm. In my younger years, I was not a touchy feely kind of person but having
learnt how important it can be, I have found it incredibly frustrating and sad
not to be able to reach out and touch someone.
Grieving is a natural and
necessary process when someone or something has died and there are five
accepted stages to grief. These are denial-
when someone is unable to accept what is happening; anger- blaming the person who has died or themselves or someone
else and being unable to process that anger; bargaining- a stage when people will offer something to get that
person or thing back; depression-total
despair when it is understood what has happened and then acceptance -where the situation is understood and the person may be
ready to move on.
Do you recognise or remember any of these stages from your
own grief?
The length of each stage
depends on lots of things but certainly is not the same for everyone. Each
person is different and so handles grief in different ways. Also you can see
from the diagram how it is not a straightforward process but one that can
revisit different stages.
Who or what are you grieving for today?
The bible readings today
give lots of hope, a hope that is based not on the chance of say a lottery win
but in the trust we have as Christians of God’s unbounded love for each and
every one of us. God sees each and every one of us as made in the image of God
and therefore we are cared for in the darkest of despair or grief as much as in
our moments of pure joy and happiness. Our God wants what is best for us and
never abandons us even when we think that is what has happened. God did not cause
the Covid pandemic because of us doing stuff wrong. God did not make it happen
to change our ways and look at things differently. It may sometimes seem like a
punishment or a warning to change our ways but I don’t believe our God is that
kind of God.
However, there is an
opportunity for us to look at how we do things and see if they seem right and
if not to change them. This is God’s hope. God believes in us even when we
don’t believe in ourselves. We can use what has happened this year to examine
ourselves and see what we want to do differently. Early on in the pandemic
there was very much a time when we as a community all pulled together and only
by doing that were people who were struggling and or vulnerable to the disease
were able to be fed and cared for. We are capable of so much and God knows
that. In the book of Revelation God says
‘See I am making all things new.’
God gives us that chance
to make things different and God sees that goodness in all of us. We just need
to respond to that hope.
However, a question is
are we ready for that hope? Can we see those small signs of hope that we can
hold on to or are will still in the mourning stage where hope seems a long way
off? One example of those small signs of hope has happened over the last week.
The Manchester United footballer Marcus Rashford started a campaign in June
about providing free school meal vouchers over the holidays to help families
who were struggling and he got the government to do a U turn and agree to his
proposal. He is doing the same again and because the government are refusing to
budge this time there have been offers from the communities to help. Small
local and not so local shops, restaurants and others have committed to step in,
to provide much needed nourishment for our most vulnerable children. Others
have signed petitions and written to their MP asking for a change of heart.
Help for the ‘oppressed, the
broken-hearted’. This may only be a small step and you may be able to think
of many others. Tiny shoots of change that say:
‘God will comfort and provide for all who mourn,’ and ‘the one who was seated upon the throne said, ‘See I am making all
things new.’’
Reflection (Paul Nash)
Isaiah 61:1 tells us, ‘The spirit of the Lord God is
upon me, because
the Lord has
anointed me… to bind up the broken hearted.’
As we
know, what and how our hearts are broken are both universal and personal. We are broken hearted in so many ways, but
most of these are about loss.
Bereavement is only way of experiencing loss, there are many
others. Loss of role, physical ability,
health, status, belongings and belonging, relationships, faith, liberty,
security etc, so many different ways. It is not just about the tragedy of the
immediate loss but the loss of hopes, aspirations, a future.
I thought
I would share with you some reflections from those who have been broken hearted
through child bereavement. I don’t set out to upset you, but it is sometimes
difficult to know how to bind up the pain of this type of loss.
“There are so many
clichés that people come out with at times of illness or death, they are not
what you want to hear right now. You must grieve in your own way, both
individually and together, and whatever emotions you feel, from sadness to
anger,
it’s okay. God understands.”
In researching one of our
bereavement books, we asked families to tell us their top tips for those
supporting them during their palliative and bereavement care. This is what they
recommended: but please remember even these are very personal reflections.
1. Listen to
our stories, be there for the long haul and continue to talk about our child.
2.
Please let us make sense of what happened in our way
and time. This is our grief, not yours
to make sense of.
3.
Offer help with the practical things of life like
shopping or picking up any other children from school or cooking a meal, and
just drop in and visit to help us avoid feeling isolated.
4.
It helps to be reassured that our child is no longer
in pain because as a mother I always want what is best for my child. It helps
to know that God understands how we feel.
5.
Our memories are really important for us to hang on
to. Where possible facilitate the creation of memories through rituals. Be
willing to keep listening to our memories.
6.
It can be really helpful to come to memorial services,
both for us as families but also for our or our child’s friends, as it enables
us to continue to show our love for our child. Having our child’s name in a
remembrance book is a comfort too.
7. If there
was one word to sum up everything else it is this – listen.
“Each
day in prayer I thank God for the continued unbroken link which we still have
with our departed loved ones through Him.
We take comfort from the fact that we can indeed talk to God, the One who is
caring for them now and beneath whose gentle, tender love and care they are not
lost at all but are now safe, truly safe, safe from all harm and suffering.
......”
“I lost my child to cancer, not God”
As
for my tips for caring for those who are bereaved:
1. “I am so sorry for your loss” is a sincere
response and generally appreciated. A
message, a word, a note. I am very mindful many times to say no more. We can
seek to communicate we feel people’s pain and want to show our respects.
2.
Use the name of the person who
has died with those who are bereaved.
3.
Ask, don’t assume how they might
like to be supported.
4.
Be a channel of appropriate hope.
I never promise people it will stop hurting.
“My hope
is that the strength of the love
will become stronger than the pain.”
One of my favourite pieces of writing that
helps explain good caring practice is the following from a bereaved person:
There's an elephant in the room.
It is large and squatting, so it is hard to
get around it.
Yet we squeeze by with, "How are
you?" and "I'm fine,"
and a thousand other forms of trivial chatter.
We talk about the weather. We talk about work.
We talk about everything else, except the elephant in the room.
There's an elephant in the room. We all know
it's there.
We are thinking about the elephant as we talk
together.
It is constantly on our minds.
For, you see, it is a very large elephant. It
has hurt us all.
But we don't talk about the elephant in the
room.
Oh, please say their name. Oh, please say
their name again.
Oh,
please, let's talk about the elephant in the room.
For if we talk about their death, perhaps we
can talk about their life.
Can I say their name to you and not have you
look away?
For
if I cannot, then you are leaving me.... alone....
in a room.... with an elephant
As we celebrate All Souls and prepare for
Remembrance Sunday, let us commit ourselves to befriending loss and grief. To
become comfortable in feeling uncomfortable.
When our new Earth and Heaven promised in our Revelation reading becomes
reality, in the parable of the Sheep and the Goats, we are reminded that God
will ask us what we did for those in loss, in pain. We are mindful that now,
between now and then, we have the opportunity and privilege to serve the
Divine!
“As the years go on, please don’t forget us. Even if
you’ve not seen our faces for a while, our lives will never be the same again.
There will always be someone missing and there will always be something special
about you who cared.” (Tabea’s family)
I leave you with a poem for all us, a reminder in these peculiar
challenging times, to be gentle with ourselves as well as others:
Do not
hurry as you walk with grief.
It does
not help the journey.
Walk
slowly, pausing often.
Do not
hurry as you walk with grief.
Be not
disturbed by memories that come unbidden.
Be
gentle with the one who walks with grief;
if it is you, be gentle with yourself.
Swiftly
forgive, walk slowly, pausing often.
Take
time to be gentle as you walk with grief.
From Prayers and readings from the Northumbria Community, 2002,
Harper Collins
Questions for reflection / discussion
As I read / listened to the
readings and reflections for this week…
·
what
did I notice, or what particularly stood out for me?
·
what
did they make me wonder, or what questions am I pondering?
·
what
have they helped me realise?
·
is there anything I want to do or
change in the light of this week's topic?
A prayer for this week:
BLESSING WHEN THE WORLD IS ENDING
Look, the world
is always ending
somewhere.
Somewhere
the sun has come
crashing down.
Somewhere
it has gone
completely dark.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the gun,
the knife,
the fist.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the slammed door,
the shattered hope.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the utter quiet
that follows the news
from the phone,
the television,
the hospital room.
Somewhere
it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break
your heart.
But, listen,
this blessing means
to be anything
but morose.
It has not come
to cause despair.
It is here
simply because
there is nothing
a blessing
is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing
than when a world
is falling apart.
This blessing
will not fix you,
will not mend you,
will not give you
false comfort;
it will not talk to you
about one door opening
when another closes.
It will simply
sit itself beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light
will come,
gathering itself
about you
as the world begins
again.
(Jan
Richardson, Circles of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons)
Activities
/ conversation-starters with young (and not-so-young!) people
Hopefully you’ve seen the flyer for our ‘remembering’
activities over November (we’ve sent it out with worship packs, and it’s on our
church Facebook page). Here are some of the ideas we’ve suggested there:
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