Grief is a natural
feeling. But processing grief, the way we move through and beyond it it,
is both cultural and very, very, individual. It can and indeed must be learned, both in families and in
community. For many humans, “community” is a word for religion or faith.
Two things happened this week that reminded me of this.
One, I read a story about Prince Harry who, at a charity
event, suddenly acknowledged that he has never “talked about” his mother Diana’s
death. At thirty years old, this seems shocking, I suppose, to some. Not to me!
My own mother died tragically (in her sleep, with no known cause) when I was
five, and we never discussed it again.
Upon reflection, as an adult, it became more and more clear
to me that there were so many ways in which the stoic refusal to allow space
for grief and all that accompanies it has crippled me emotionally. Even at
sixty, it’s hard for me sometimes to feel the full extent of sadness when
something ends. I stay with bargaining, or anger, way, way too long.
I’m lucky though. I’ve had so many teachers, both living
spiritual guides, mentors, peers, and writers, poets, musicians and preachers,
who have led me into the depths of my own losses and then helped me see that
while I may never “overcome” them… I could come to terms with them. Learning to
“come to terms” with life, which is loaded with losses, big and small, became
the core of my pastoral ministry. I think it enabled me to help others in the
way I’ve been helped.
Dreams are beautiful teachers. They provide a gentle and
palatable way for us to “let go.” Sometimes, I don’t even like those words: let go. They sound so final. I don’t
think grief is that way. Our losses reside within us, like headstones in a
cemetery we visit from time to time. Many things can take us there: a song, a
certain food, a voice, a silhouette on the street. We may find we return
joyfully with bouquets, or are dragged through some mire and mist to face again
some wrenching loss.
Until I began to learn this, I was living a half-life. Maybe
that is what Harry feels has been the source of some of his behaviors and
antics. Time will tell. For me, the
inability to grieve is what primarily leads to addiction.
This is one of the great paradoxes of life.
Of course, I’m not revealing any secret that hasn’t been
told before, by all the teachers and masters of Time. But it remains: if you are unable to be completely and
utterly bereft, lost and sad, and to come to terms with all that is lost as we
live and age, we are also unable to experience joy, delight, and true ecstasy.
Two, the “Bernie or Bust” folks. As the DNC continues, they
will not come to terms with what is already done, even though Bernie himself has beseeched them to do so, has promised
them the movement will continue, and has asked them to at the very least
refrain from their loud “boos” at every mention of Clinton’s name.
I voted for Sanders. I think it’s true that the DNC worked
against him. How many and how dastardly the things they did to “undermine” him
remain to be seen.
But here’s the point. Life is incredibly unfair. Had Sanders
won, all but a few of his initiatives would have been stalled or stopped dead.
A time of grief and loss was bound to come for these people. Still, what has
started is the beginning of an entirely
new way of doing politics!
We are seeing naked grief played out on a national stage. We’re
seeing people who seem to have no ability to process and come to terms with
grief, expressing anger, rage crying, yelling, rather than using the convention
to work toward the change they say they want.
I need to say this: Grief
in America is not handled well. White, Protestant America has almost no ritual
or mechanism for moving people from the depths of grief to the peace of living
with loss.
There are exceptions. In the Black community, and particularly
the Black church, there are ways to process grief. From the steady trail of
visitors at the home to the turnout at the Funeral and viewing, and the
celebration/”homegoing” after, there are tears, physical contact, expressions
of adoration, opportunities for truth-telling, story-telling, reassurance from
Pastor/Priest, rituals, and much laughter.
So.. joy. Joy, and gratitude. The two go hand in hand. When
I heard Michele Obama say the words that have been repeated again and again
since Monday night about all of her and her family’s detractors, When they go low, we go high, I heard
two meanings. Not only have the Obamas unfailingly gone “high” in their
demeanor and their public presentation, but its pretty clear they go high in
terms of faith as well. I know plenty of folks blame President Obama for
civilian deaths caused by drone attacks, and question his ethics, but I see him
as a person of faith, placed in a nearly-impossible situation. History will be
the judge of his decisions, finally.
Last night, when the Mothers
of the Movement spoke at the DNC, the radio commentators noted that they
opened with gratitude, praise for God, and words of hope and even elation.
Sandra Bland’s mother spoke first. She celebrated the fact that she could be
there, to testify about her daughter. None of this surprised me. I frequently
attend a mostly-Black AME Zion church. Joy, laughter, praise and ecstacy mingle
with tears, grief and deep mourning.
I don’t want to stereotype people of color either. But it
would be hard to live in this country and argue that the dominant (white, Eurocentric)
culture has the capacity to both grieve and yet hold hope, a capacity that allows
for wholeness and for fullness of life.
It should not go without notice that Bernie or Bust people
are overwhelmingly white. (They are also largely millennials, which I have
other thoughts about, but not today.)
When Bernie Sanders told his followers, this is the world we live in... he didn't mean give up. But if any of them had done the work of white privilege, the deep work of listening, study, and contemplation, they would understand that the loss and grief and disappointment they face is faced by Black (and Brown, and Native, and Asian) Americans daily, who learn to come to terms with it, and keep hope, find faith somewhere, and stay on the journey.
White privilege is
all that comes to mind when I hear them petulantly say they’ll vote for Trump.
“VOTE FOR TRUMP?”
After what he’s said about Muslims, Mexicans, immigrants,
Black Lives matter, “my” African American, women, after what his VP nominee has
said/done toward GLBTQ folks and about choice? Then your privilege and your
petulance is unacceptable. It’s time we had a national conversation:
about grief.
Maybe we should invite Prince Harry to the DNC.
