Posts Tagged With: Grief

I often wonder when reading the stories of Maundy Thursday and the last supper, whether despite what Jesus was saying to them the disciples actually understood what was going on. In Matthew’s account of things Jesus tells the 12 that his “Hour has come”. But in spite of that, Jesus spelling it out for them, did Jesus’ closest friends really believe that this was going to be the last time they ate together before he died.

I don’t think they did, I think that although Jesus was telling them that this was the end they still thought there was hope, that Jesus wasn’t going to have to die. You see the thing is that death is always a shock, it might come at the end of a long illness, it might be expected; but no one can tell the exact time or day when someone is going to die, and so there is always going to be an element of shock. Like I said in my Palm Sunday blog, someone is alive until they are not, and because nobody can tell the moment at which that switch will take place, we hope until the very end and when the end does come, we are shocked.

So what does the story of Maundy Thursday have to say to us about the journey of grief that Jesus and his disciples are yet to go on and the journeys of grief that we find ourselves on? Well, quite simply and as the title of today’s blog suggests I think it teaches about the importance of memories.

Memories, whether small or large, mundane or extraordinary, become things of such comfort when we start a journey of grief. “When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure” as an unknown author puts it. Memories can be a shared thing and keep us connected to other people as we journey the road of grief together, defying geography and time. And memories protect us from a world where our departed relatives and friends are completely absent. Memories are essential to us first expressing our grief and then finding the strength to hope and live again.

In sharing Passover with his disciples, in having this last meal and telling his friends to remember him in a specific way, Jesus gives them a memory point to share together and connect their grief to. I would love to know what the Passover meal was like the year after Jesus died, were they together? Did they remember? Did discussion turn to their dear departed friend? I like to think that wherever the 12 were, they all remembered and were connected in their grief somehow.

Now obviously Jesus gave his friends a very particular way to remember him by, a way that we still share in today, but doing something in memory of someone who has died doesn’t necessarily need to be a particularly poignant thing. It could be a seemingly insignificant and small thing like a smile that looks like the person who has died, or a shared favourite song or a particular family event; it could be the simplest thing in the world but the point is that any of these things (and a whole host of others) could be things that we do in memory of someone. Before my mum died there weren’t any poignant conversations where we discussed what life would be like without her, and so there isn’t strictly something that I do “in memory” of her. But there are so many memories every day that act a points to connect us, that in essence I live every day in memory of her. Memories are incredibly powerful things.

In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Harry first learns how to conjure a Patronus. In this scene, having met both a dementor and a boggart previously in the film, Harry is having extra lessons from Professor Lupin to help him fight both. In this scene the boggart (a shape shifter that takes on that which you fear most) has assumed the guise of a dementor (a creature that feeds off happiness leaving their victim with a sense of hopelessness and, if able to perform the dreaded kiss, no soul) and time after time Harry is attempting to fight off this monster by using the only spell that will work, a patronus (a spell made up of powerful happy feelings which takes the form of an animal). This is a scene that basically teaches us the lesson that memories, and specifically happy memories, are incredibly powerful and can be used to all sorts of ends. In the magical world Harry is taught that to beat fear and hopelessness he must focus on his happy memories and use them to his benefit. When he does this those happy memories fill him and become something that is strong enough to protect him and others.

So this Maundy Thursday as we remember Jesus, possibly by sharing in bread and wine and doing so in memory of him, this could be an opportunity for you to think about communion in a new way. Yes it is something we do to remember Jesus sacrifice on the cross, but we are also connecting ourselves to the grief that Jesus’ friends first felt. But today I also encourage you to think of what you could do in memory of someone you miss. It may be painful to remember these things at first, but if we allow them to fill us up they could become something that protects us and helps us smile again.

Lex xx

When I was younger I used to get so confused about how Palm Sunday came just five days before Good Friday. I was never able to understand how in five days the shouts of “Hosanna!” could have changed to screams of “Crucify!”. In many ways I still don’t fully understand how the Jewish people could have turned on Jesus so spectacularly in such a short time; but now, having looked at the story of Holy Week within the context of a journey of grief I understand the importance and relevance of Palm Sunday in a different way.

            One thing that Palm Sunday shows us is that Jesus was alive, really alive, so full of life that people just had to take notice of him. And although Jesus himself was fully aware of the fact that he was travelling towards his death, and therefore for all intents and purposes “dying”, it didn’t alter the fact that Jesus was alive, he was here, he mattered.

            We use the word “dying” to describe the state that someone is in but it doesn’t actually have any bearing on their state of being, until someone is actually dead they are alive. And let’s be honest, there is no real grading system of “aliveness”, someone is alive until they are not. Something that people all too often forget is that a dying person is still capable of living and experiencing life until the very end. They’re still alive, still here, still matter.

            I don’t know if you’ve seen the film “My Sister’s Keeper”, but there is a scene that links with the “Palm Sunday stage of grief”, it happens just over an hour into the film and is quite pivotal to the story. It takes place on a beach and it shows us that Kate, the main character, although terminally ill, is still alive, still here and still matters. The family don’t forget that Kate is ill, they can’t because it has become a reality for their family now; but that day joy becomes bigger than the illness. Kate’s life is bigger than her impending death.

            If the story of Easter teaches us anything it is that life is bigger than death. If Jesus was just another guy that died in a horrific way, we wouldn’t still be talking about him. It was Jesus’ life that picked him out as different and caused people to take notice, Jesus’ life is bigger than his death (a life so big in fact that death could not hold him!). Now I don’t know about you, but I want to be remembered for my life and not my death, I want my life to be so much bigger than my death. I’m alive, I’m here, I matter.

            The starting point to any grief journey is the simple fact that someone was alive and now they are not; grief starts with life. And so the beginning of any expression or experience of grief is the recognition that a person was alive, was here and mattered to us.

Life is so often all too short though, and sometimes it can be so hard to focus on someone’s life rather than their death, especially if their life was very short or their death expected. But the fact still remains, death does not subtract from life; a life of just one day is still a life. They were alive, they were here, they mattered. I have a tattoo on my wrist that for me sums up this idea. I have a rule that when I look at my tattoo I remember my mum’s life and not her death, my tattoo sums up the mark she left on me and my life; a mark of her life that is not forgotten, rubbed out or faded by the fact that her life is now over. She was alive, she was here, she mattered and her life was bigger than her death.

So today, as we journey through Palm Sunday and we remember Jesus’ life rather than his death. I challenge you to remember the fact that life is bigger than death. Think about your special people who have died, but I encourage you to focus on their life and not their death. They were alive, they were here, they mattered. I also challenge you to think about yourself. You’re alive, you’re here, you matter; today make yours a life that is bigger than death.

Lex xx

This time last year (where the time has gone I’ll never know, mental!) I was about four weeks away from finishing and having in my dissertation (no I haven’t finished banging on about it yet!). As many of you might know my dissertation was about childhood and adolescent bereavement, and focused mainly on the introduction of a new resource I had written for youth workers to use with bereaved children and young people. Some of you will have heard me talk about this resource in depth at one of the presentation evenings I’ve done, but I know there are people who didn’t manage to get along to them and are interested in the topic. I’ve wanted to share some of my dissertation work in a public way for a while, and this coming week offers the perfect opportunity for doing just that, and I’ll tell you why.

The second part of my resource is a collection of session guides entitled “The Worst Week”. There are five session guides in total which move chronologically through Holy Week; starting at Palm Sunday and culminating in Easter Sunday. The reasons why the session guides are hinged on Holy Week are twofold. First, in the stories of Holy Week we see an overview of a grieving process, both from the perspective of those left behind and the person who is dying. But second, and probably more importantly, the stories of Holy Week show us quite simply that grieving is a Biblical principle. The shortest verse in the Bible (John 11:35) is “Jesus wept.” through the simple act of sharing in the emotion of a friend’s death, Jesus gave us the perfect example that grief is ok. We need to remember that Jesus taught “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4), God not only allows but expects us to grieve when we experience loss and we are taught that he is ready to comfort and support us when we do. This then is why I chose a group of stories that encapsulate God’s understanding of our grief as a foundation for approaching the subject in my resource.

So over the next week I will be sharing five blogs; Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday; each looking at different elements of grief that run through the stories of Holy Week. Obviously the posts will be predominantly about grief, but I hope there will be something that everybody can take from each day. There might be some video clips to watch (how exciting) and some original stories (even more exciting), that tie in with the aspect of grief for the day, so it won’t be a whole week of me waffing on. This is the first “blog series” I’ve attempted, so we’ll learn how it goes together. Good luck everybody, see you on the other diode.

Lex xx