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Thursday, January 17, 2013

Ask the Matriarch -- Acquainted with Grief

Good morning and a Blessed Thursday, everybody.  This week we're considering the internal challenges of our ministry at the time of death -- funerals, memorials, interments, leave-takings.  There are special challenges in providing that ministry for total strangers (what on earth do I say about this person whom I never met?); there are plenty of external challenges in officiating at funerals and memorials for members of our congregations (they want WHAT for music?  they want to display WHAT atop the casket?  they want HOW MANY eulogies?).  But there are more intimate difficulties when we are called on to officiate and at the same time we are very definitely among the mourners with our own grief roughening our heartbeat and cutting off our breathing...

 Our enquirer asks:
I am curious to know if any of you have any particular rituals for dealing with your own grief prior to the funeral of a beloved church member.  How do you care for yourself?  How do you deal with your own grief over the loss so that you may minister effectively to the rest of the congregation in their grief?


And we have two very helpful responses rooted in deep experience: 


Dear Sistah,
When I was a young priest and in my second year of parish ministry ( a small rural parish) I had 24 funerals in one year.  Many of them were of the parish.  Five were suicides.  I almost went under that year.  The grief that I was exposed to was at such a level that I was all but useless to my parish.  What I did not realize was that I had unresolved grief from the death of my father while I was in seminary.  It took a bit of professional help to get me through that.

We who must deal with the grief of others must be willing to first deal with our own grief in order to be of use to others.  If you have not dealt with your own losses in life or at least faced them, there is a temptation to avoid dealing with the grief of others.  Since then I have always chosen to have a spiritual director or a therapist to assist me with my issues as I faced death and grief in a congregation.  I would strongly urge anyone who feels alone in parish ministry to find a person who can help you address the grief in your life.  We all have it whether it has to do with the loss of family or friends or with the loss of a position or even a dream.  Be aware of your own loss and work it through with the help of someone.  Grief is not something that we need bear alone.  But we cannot bear others' until we are willing be healed of our own.  Henri Nouwen's The Wounded Healer was a great help for me.

Recently I heard from a family member of one of those who died during that horrible year.  I had not heard from him for decades and he blistered me in a Facebook message for my failure to provide the kind of care that he needed at that time.  I was stunned but had to admit that I had avoided doing my bounden duty that year.  I am thankful that I was able to admit that to him and ask his forgiveness.  He had been holding on to that grief for 30 years.  Grief is a mean burden; it can distort our whole lives.  So don't be afraid of your grief but do seek the help of others.  And sometimes just being willing to journey with others in their grief gives us insight into our own.  But I do not recommend sharing your stories with your parishioners.  Just be aware of the journey.

And may Peace be with you in your journey.  You are in my prayers.  Muthah+

A second response from a slightly different angle --



I get a LOT of funerals – and find that even the ones of people I barely knew (or indeed never met) are draining & I need to be sure to factor in that afterwards I will feel a sense of tiredness from absorbing and holding grief on behalf of others.

The funerals of those whom I, too, want to grieve are even more complex. Sometimes I allow myself a little time to grieve before the funeral – maybe after the visit to the family I will go somewhere where I can sit quietly with my own memories, cry if I need to, pray... Other times there is no chance to do that before the funeral and I will set aside some time afterwards. Sometimes there are cards or letters from the person which I re-read and allow myself the space to feel what I am feeling rather than being the one who is ‘coping’ (which is, I think the proper role when I officiate at a funeral). Sometimes I deliberately re-visit some of the readings and words used at the service, allowing myself to hear them as a mourner, not an officiant.

I look forward to hearing what others do...


Thank you both very much indeed.  I have encountered another resource -- a small book of Lutheran provenance entitled A Trumpet in Darkness by Robert Hughes (Fortress) -- it's not new (1985, or so, I think) but full of real wisdom and practical counsel clearly given.  Out of my personal experience, certainly one of the funerals at which I was most conscious of my own grief was for a woman who had been a "major antagonist" throughout my time in that parish--much to my surprise!  Otherwise I think I have dealt, or not dealt, with my own feelings of grief by setting them to one side because the task-to-be-done took precedence (I'm not recommending this, just observing it).  Because I buried both my mother and father within the span of a couple of years, and until the last words were said and the last shovelful shovelled, at the second burial, there were no tears at all.  But then, with everything done, there were tears a-plenty, and they were a great relief too.

I look forward eagerly to your comments.  As always, I hope you are observing your ministry with one eye out for questions to "Ask the Matriarch" -- please send them along to askthematriarch[at]gmail[dot]com!

Peace and joy and comfort to you all!

--Crimson Rambler

20 comments:

  1. Well, you knew that I would weigh in here. I am grateful to see this topic, as I have wondered about it often in the context of my now second year of my largely elderly congregation. I did three funerals last year, and mourned three other people connected with our congregation, one of them a young man not much older than my 24 yos who died while I was in seminary -- and then there was the impromptu lakeside memorial service right before Christmas for the friends of a very young woman who died of suicide, which was how my son died.

    I find, naturally, that the closer I am to the people who have died, or the means, particularly where the death has been a sudden accident, which is what happened to my mother and brother when I was a child, the more draining the week and the more I need to honor my own desire to sleep in and move slowly in the days following. I find that, as I get to know the people in my congregation, especially the very elderly with whom I spend a lot of time, I am very aware of what lies ahead, and how likely it is that several deaths will occur within a short time frame.

    I have had two situations in which friends have, without any foresight on anyone's part, been able to restore a sense of life and balance for me. My husband and I had already been invited to dinner at the home of another couple when the Christmastime memorial serviced arose -- less than 24 hours from request to completion -- and it was wonderful to be with good friends almost immediately afterward, with whom I could at first be as quiet and exhausted as I was and then gradually feel my frozen self begin to warm up. And one of my seminary friends showed up for a funeral I was conducting last summer -- she was preaching for me the next Sunday and had wanted to see the church -- and we spent the entire afternoon afterward sitting out on the grass in the town square in our black dresses, talking over our lives.

    I have wonderful spiritual directors who have seen me through the death of my son and the beginning of ministry, and I know how important it is to have them to whom to turn. But I guess, now that I reflect on these experiences, I would suggest also planning a few hours or a meal with a good friend -- completely unconnected with the death or ritual -- afterward with whom to decompress.

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    1. Thank you, Robin-- I "nod vehemently" the note about people who permit us to be "quiet and exhausted" without trying to CHEER US UP.

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    2. I'm mindful of not breaching confidentiality (or even appearing to) so I'm choosing not to participate at this time. Thanks for thinking of me! :) After changing advisors multiple times and having a stroke, I don't want participation in this discussion to be the thing that keeps me from getting a PhD!

      Sarah

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  2. One of our RevGals is doing dissertation research on this very topic...how female clergy deal with this sort of grief. I hope she'll weigh in here.

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    1. Wait! my reply was supposed to be here!

      I'm mindful of not breaching confidentiality (or even appearing to) so I'm choosing not to participate at this time. Thanks for thinking of me! :) After changing advisors multiple times and having a stroke, I don't want participation in this discussion to be the thing that keeps me from getting a PhD!

      Sarah

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    2. I hear you in this place also, Sarah!

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  3. One of the two small communities where my congregations are located has had a rash of deaths - four in eight days. It was devastating in a community of around 200 people. The father of two elementary age girls was buried the morning of Christmas Eve. I presided at a funeral the day after Christmas. There were two funerals later that week. The grief in town was palpable. I heard a lot of what I think of as "grief confessions" - stories of times of great loss in someone's life. There was a lot of remembered pain that came to the surface.

    It was a lot to carry for the community, coming after the Sandy Hook tragedy and the sudden deaths of fathers of two of my son's friends at the high school in the next community over. My own grief, the miasma my son felt at school and brought home, the community's pain.

    I prayed - a lot. Our Blue Christmas service created a much needed space to pray. I preached mourning and Christmas hope from the pulpit. I took the time for myself to sit with the grief.

    It's my practice before the family prayer service or the funeral to take a few moments before the family gets there to pray at the casket, to say my own goodbyes. This time I prayed more in those private moments, giving myself the same opportunity to grieve privately as we give the family. I also remember that when I tell the family (in response to a remark that something that they say or do may seem strange) that they will grieve in their own way and at their own pace, this too applies to me as I process this loss to our community and laying down my own relationship with the deceased.

    I'm just now coming out of this recent period of grief - or maybe I've passed from grief to numbness. I'm not sure. I feel strangely unmoved by my grandmother's death Sunday morning. She was 100 and had been declining for some time, so maybe my grief is tempered by the knowledge that she was ready to go home after a long full life here.

    There will be time for more prayer. And I'm sure my sister and I will process some of this family grief when I visit her this spring.

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    1. Ramona, I'm so sorry about your loss. My gm, too, was 100 when she died a few years ago.

      And yes, one of the benefits of being familiar with death is being able to reassure and help grieving people interpret their own and their relatives' bizarre behavior and statements, -- being that nonanxious presence, I suppose, who conveys that there is nothing to condemn and nothing weird or unacceptable in responses which surprise and confuse them.

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  4. I understand this all too well. As a chaplain, i get called when... well... things are dire or have ended badly. And there are times that the death affects me deeply. My CPE Supervisor reminded me to always "sit with myself" and first, figure out why. And second, remember (honor) them.

    SO I do. As I sit with myself, I puzzle out what "it" was that touched me so with this baby or this trauma or this ICU death. I ponder why this family. This patient. This setting. And even this date! (One night everything was affecting me and I was in tears all the time. I realized when I started charting at the end of the night -- it was THAT busy -- that it was the 10 year anniversary of my dad's death.) I sit with myself so that I can feel and pray and cry. And then if it feels still unsettled, I make sure it is on the agenda with my spiritual director the next time.

    Second, I honor them. I light a small votive that I keep in my study and I read a prayer. And I try to leave them there as I go about my day. When I can't, again, it's a time to call someone or talk it through.

    I know I need a longer session when I can't care about others. When I'm angry or just cold inside. Mostly, I think being given permission (by myself or others) to grieve the losses, senseless at times, realistic but "too soon" for others, I feel my mercy and compassion come back.

    This is all compounded when I grieve the loss of a family member or friend. It's a lot more work and takes more intentional time. Grief work is a marathon. Not a sprint.

    I'm sure glad for all of the wisdom in this community!

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  5. Thank you for this topic - timely for me as well. We have had what feels like a rash of deaths since November (in addition to the kind of grief over losses like Hurricane Sandy & Sandy Hook). And I am set to officiate my first funeral of a child on Saturday.

    I've tried to be especially gracious with myself this week - extra sleep, working slowly. Attempting to tune into my own grief and allowing the Spirit to do her work. I have a pre-scheduled appointment with my therapist tomorrow.

    So far, I still feel like I am thinking and moving through sludge...and I need to acknowledge the full toll the past months have taken.

    Bethany

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    1. Thinking of you in prayer with tomorrow's service in view -- one of the wisest of my mentors said one time that it would be impossible to officiate at a child's funeral if we did not remember that the God we worship is also a bereaved parent. I don't know whether that will help at all, but I hope so...it carried conviction and consolation for me.

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    2. Many thanks. Most of the week's fog has lifted. I am not afraid if I were to shed a tear or two, as I am sure God is grieving alongside this family...and remembering.

      Bethany

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  6. This is also a particularly timely topic for me. My sister died of breast cancer 2 weeks before Christmas and I agreed to preach at her funeral - I know how to walk the professional journey much better than the personal one. And then there were 6 more deaths in our congregation before Christmas as well as the death of a good friend. I am indeed numb but until I read the previous comments I thought it was just sort of normal to "scab" over so that I can continue to minister to my community. I have cried at two funerals since my sister's (of people that i did not know). The rituals that you all describe above sound meaningful and healthy but with the the amount of ministry (including funerals)that continue to be before me I really don't know how to stop. Plus, I am an associate with one other pastor colleague and I feel guilty to leave him to all of the funerals or all of the visitations while I grieve. As I reread what I have written - I am shocked by how unhealthy it sounds. YIKES!

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    1. I am so sorry for your loss.

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    2. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your sister; that is very, very, very tough indeed. I think that both "numbness" and "scabs" are a natural response to what is just too much to feel and/or process for the moment (I've heard "denial" named in the same list). They're maybe a bit like splints -- first-aid that will let you move forward until you reach a safe place where you can sit down and howl. Meantime--I hope you've been able to inform your colleague of what you're carrying--nothing to feel guilty about, there, just appropriate candour.

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  7. I came from an aging congregation. We had an average of 50-60 funerals per year. We didn't have a funeral every week. But some weeks we had three! It wasn't terribly uncommon to have two in a day. In our first four years when we had done over 200 funerals, people asked why attendance was dropping. Why, indeed! So when we (my husband and I serve together) came to this call, I asked how many funerals per year and was greatly relieved to hear, "4-5." This year that number has grown fourfold. Maybe it's us?!

    In the midst of everything said above, the other thing I do that helps me is to have ALL my ducks in a tidy row before the visitation begins. Everything is written down: prayers, welcome, comments... more than I would usually commit to paper. (Of course the sermon! Which I also copy for the family and have heard endless reports of how very helpful that was for the family). With thorough preparation, I leave less to chance, which takes a bit of stress from a heart that is heavy in the midst of officiating.

    I admit I am a total "J" on the Myers-Briggs, but being in control of everything I CAN, helps me to let go of the places and things where I CAN NOT. It's helpful to me. And I just came from doing a commendation of the dying service with one of the people in this congregation I have grown to love deeply. With just the family present, I did shed tears with them as we all said "goodbye" and "Godspeed" to this dear man. I tried to sing the benediction they love, but found I could not without the rest of them singing with me. As all of our voices came and went through individual tears, it was a lovely metaphor for the church. Love and grief and hope and promise.

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  8. I was given a useful image early in my ministry - that in the funeral liturgy we are called to be a window to hope, to promise, to God, through which the bereaved and even despairing can look. When I have entered into that image, I have found that gently holding my own grief in check is helpful. I also heard recently that a colleague keeps a packet of tic-tacs in her pocket at a funeral - apparently it's impossible to suck and cry simultaneously!
    Rachel

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  9. Sisters, thank you for good, wise responses to this question. I am the original questioner and am feeling greatly helped by all you have shared (I tried to comment on Thursday afternoon, but blogger ate my comment and I didn't have time to recompose!). I wrote the question shortly after a very difficult funeral for a much-beloved church member. The night before this AtM column ran, another much-beloved church member died! I am preaching that funeral on Monday and am hoping to tend to my own grief in some of the ways you all have described, as this death has hit me particularly hard.

    It's so good to know that I am not alone in this work.

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