We had planned to have a memorial service for my wife Joan, a week after her death. Actually, she planned the service. She met with the minister. She approved the details. 

            She hadn’t planned on the COVID-19 virus scare. 

            First, public health authorities banned all gatherings larger than 50 people. That precluded a church service. 

            My daughter and I tried to substitute a private gathering, of a dozen couples and close friends, to raise a glass to the woman who showed us how to die gracefully and cheerfully. 

            But the latest rulings call for a “social distance” -- two metres or six feet apart. Two people can have a conversation at a double arms-length distance; 20 cannot. 

            The private gathering went down the tubes too.

The timing matters

            Friends assure me that “when all this is over” we can still have the service and it will be “just as meaningful.”

            They mean well, but I think they’re wrong. 

            First, because I’m not convinced this will all be over soon. 

            And second, two months from now – or six months from now – a lot of life will have intervened. Some potential attendees will have moved. Some will have started new jobs, others will have lost them. Grandchildren (our circle of friends are long past adding their own children!) may have been born. Other deaths may have occurred. 

            All of these impose another form of “social distancing”. A memorial service that happens months from later can’t help being a different kind of service. 

Healing together

            It all makes me reconsider the purpose of a funeral or memorial service. 

            It’s not simply an occasion for glowing eulogies. 

            The popular term “Celebration of Life” seems to me to be both a euphemism and a misnomer. We may indeed celebrate who that person WAS. But we do it because she ISN’T. 

            We don’t sing the “Hallelujah Chorus” at “celebrations of life.” Or warble “For she’s a jolly good fellow…” We don’t jive in the aisles, pop balloons, or light fireworks.

            No. We gather to grieve.

            Time, they say, heals all wounds. True – but healing takes place at different speeds, for different people. 

            A year after a death, the people most directly affected may still dissolve over some reminder of their loss. For others, the person who died becomes more and more distant. 

            Life has already carried on. Without her. 

            We hold a service, whatever we call it, because we need to come together to acknowledge our collective pain, to seek healing, to start fumbling down the pathway of recovery. Together, not alone. 

            In a religious context, to feel also the support of something that transcends our mere mortality.

            Traditional communities had a good reason for insisting that the funeral had to follow soon after a death. It wasn’t just about the decaying of a physical body – no longer a concern with modern refrigeration, embalming, and cremation. 

            It was about the sense of loss. Something has gone. Call it what you will, a soul, a personality, something is missing. Someone has left us. And we are poorer for it.

            So we grieve. We mourn. And we gather in community to begin the process of healing. Because we need each other to do it. 

            And also, because crying alone is no fun. 

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Copyright © 2020 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

                  To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

I can’t possibly pick a few selections from the well over 50 emails, cards, and letters I’ve received expressing condolences for Joan’s death. So I will just thank you all for caring. Some of my learnings from this experience, and the new life that I’m launched into, may show up in future columns. And some may not. We’ll see. 

            The sheer volume of your good wishes has been an enormous support for my daughter Sharon and for me. 

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Psalm paraphrase

The reading for this coming Sunday is Psalm 130. The NRSV describes it as “Waiting for Divine Redemption.” To me, it resonates with my more depressed days: “Out of the depths I cry to you, my Lord…” I could easily turn it into a personal lament, but I wanted to recognize that others also experience the dark pit of despair. A while ago, I tried thinking, instead, what might “out of the depths” mean in Somalia or Syria today?

My baby just died, Lord of the Universe.

Is this your holy will?

That wars should rip us from our homes,

That drought should wither our crops, 

That even my breasts should dry up?

Hear my cries, O Holy One. 

Are you doing this because we displeased you?

Did we fail to say our prayers often enough?

Were we too concerned with sheer survival?

If we have wronged you, forgive us. 

We will honour you even more for your compassion.

I shrivel in the scorching heat.

I huddle under a tattered tarp in a refugee camp.

I cower in the rubble of an apartment building.

I have no water, no food, no hope.

I wait.

Yet still I believe that you are powerful,

That your power is the power of love,

And that it can change the world. 

So I wait…

For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalmsfrom Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.

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                  I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca

                  And for those of you who like poetry, please check my webpage .https://quixotic.ca/My-Poetry I posted some new poetic works there a few weeks ago.  If you’d like to receive notifications about new poems, write me at jimt@quixotic.ca,  or subscribe yourself to the list by sending a blank email (no message) to poetry-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca (If it doesn’t work, please let me know.)

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. Some spam filters have blocked my posts because they’re suspicious of some of the web links.

                  Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca He’s also relatively inexpensive!

                  I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also has lots of beautiful photos. Especially of birds.

                  Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)

ALVA WOOD’S ARCHIVE

                  I have acquired (don’t ask how) the complete archive of the late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures. I’ve put them on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. You’re welcome to browse. No charge. (Although maybe if I charged a fee, more people would find the archive worth visiting.)