Grief...or Holy Saturday

I've been thinking a lot these last few days about grief and sorrow. About our culture's discomfort with such things. And I know I'm speaking in very general terms here, but for the most part North American society doesn't like intense or prolonged grief. We don't know what to do with the silence, with the tears, with hearing the story again and again and again. We don't know what to do with the sorrow. For that matter, I'm not sure we know what to do with intense unadulterated joy either. We tend to prefer to live in a middle space, a safe space where the deepest parts of ourselves can remain disengaged. It's a coping mechanism I think. But that's a whole other topic in and of itself.
 
About two weeks ago, my roommate Alicia had a short article published in The Messenger, her denomination's periodical on the topic of reclaiming Holy Saturday. That space of grieving that falls between the trauma and shock of Good Friday and the joyful resurrection (or return back to life) of Easter morn.  It is the space we tend to ignore. It is the space of grieving, of discomfort, of uncertainty. It is a prolonged space. No one likes this space.

We have learned, in a way, to handle Good Friday. We have services in place for the literal remembrance of the death of Christ (again, I'm speaking in generalities and from my own experience). And we have protocol for handling the literal deaths in our own lives as well. There are funeral plans and crisis care and the space of shock that is expected and honoured. We don't always do it well, though quite often we do. Quite often it is a powerful space where tears and sorrow are allowed to permeate our lives. Quite often these spaces are a gift that place us on a wonderful road of honouring, remembering, and eventually healing.

And sometimes for a few days, a week, or maybe even a month the road we travel is...respected. But it doesn't take long until our culture wants us to move on. To get the heck out of Good Friday and live a normal life again. What I'm getting at here is that grief seems to be seen in our culture as a problem. A problem that needs to be solved so we can be happy again. We try to jump straight from Good Friday to Easter Sunday without allowing for the space of Holy Saturday. And I think this happens even more so with young children. They remember and we are afraid they'll become upset so we change the subject. They begin to cry and we promise them an ice cream or a toy if they stop. They wake up at night and so we give them Tylenol. We do the same things really in our adult lives, it just looks a bit different. But with kids it seems the need is somewhat more intense because children shouldn't be sad, they shouldn't suffer, they should sleep all night without fear.

The problem is though that they do suffer and so do we. And the only real way to Easter Sunday, to a return to life (a new life that has been forever changed through death) is through Holy Saturday. Try as we might, we cannot fully circumvent the need for grief. 

So when our children bring up the topic of death, let us engage them. Let us answer the questions we can answer, and sit with them in the mystery for those questions that rightfully escape easy answers.

When they remember the one they loved, let us remember together. Children are most often instrumental grievers. They grieve through doing. Think creatively about projects or activities you can do together to remember and grieve well. 

When they begin to cry, hold them and cry with them. Acknowledge their grief and their sorrow. And in doing so perhaps you will have the chance to acknowledge your own. 

When your child wakes at night, go to him or her and be together. Yes I know there is school tomorrow, or work or lessons of various types. But this is more important.  It truly is. Sit together with your child in Holy Saturday. 

The space of Holy Saturday is a natural space. It is a space that lasts awhile. But do not fear, it will not last forever. As Alicia mentions as well, there are occasions when individuals become stuck in Good Friday, but these instances are relatively few. When these occasions arise speak with a pastor or counselor for guidance. 

 For the most part however,  Holy Saturday just is. It's a vital part of being human in a finite world. It is a space of transformation, a space of becoming, a space of movement from death to life. And the only way forward is through.