Resurrection: further thoughts
Though other faith traditions may have some belief in an
after-life, Christianity may be unique in our belief in the “resurrection of
the dead and the life of the world to come” as many of us re-affirm each Sunday
when we recite the Nicene Creed. This
doctrine or belief begins and ends with Easter:
Jesus rose from the dead and promises that we will do the same.
There is no greater hope for me as a grieving father: my son Daniel, in some great mysterious way,
is alive and well somewhere in a place we call heaven – he has already
experienced a resurrection. Though I
cannot really fathom that, I can imagine it and cling to the hope that he is
saving a place at that table for me as well.
His transformation into this new life forms one side of this equation
with our grief and sorrow on the other side.
This resurrection hope occupies one side of my heart and my very human
experience of loss inhabits the other side.
Yesterday I sat with my men’s group at church – a dozen very
different men ranging in age from 40 to 80 who meet each week and listen to
each other share our journeys and pray for each other. My comments centered on the impending one
year anniversary of Daniel’s death and our planned trip to Spokane
Somehow
Daniel’s death is producing new life in our hearts as we become more attuned and
sensitive to what matters. Perhaps this
restoration of the heart is another example of what we mean when we say we
believe in the “resurrection of the dead.”
April 15, 2009
Eastertide:
thoughts on resurrection
Eastertide is an old-fashioned word that only Christians who follow the liturgical calendar use. I assume it refers to the continuing celebration and contemplation of the Easter event – the resurrection of Christ.
Since my last entry on death and faith as teachers, Easter
Sunday has come and gone and it is probably time to think about the “life” or
resurrection side of this season.
I had breakfast this morning with a friend who lost his wife
to breast cancer ten years ago when they were both in their early 40’s and had
a two year old son. Listening to a
person who is ten years down the road of grief is somehow fascinating to me at
this stage – J. confirmed a lot of what I have read and heard from others. He still thinks about his wife daily and can
still “go there” with his emotions and feel the sorrow over his loss. And, he has learned how to carry that grief
more comfortably as well, though the hole left by that person remains.
I shared my sense that we live in a duality or paradox as
our experiences of grief and grace/hope co-exist. Grace and hope do not somehow cancel out the
grief – both are true and real and residing side by side in our hearts and
minds. I believe that the grace and hope
my family and I have experienced originates with God and indeed God uses the
people who surround us to deliver that grace and hope into our lives, giving us
a very real and at times almost tangible experience of God as a result. J. concurred that this has been his
experience as well.
So a sense of loss and grief over Daniel’s death remain and an
experience of resurrection or new life occurs as grace and hope come along side
us, making for an interesting and curious mixture of realities to experience
and contemplate.
April 10, 2009
Good Friday: reflections on death and faith as my “teachers”
Good Friday is a solemn day in the Christian church year
since it commemorates the day of Jesus’ crucifixion. The noontime liturgy at our church comprised
walking the Stations of the Cross and reflecting on the events before and after
the crucifixion.
As Holy Week nears its close and apex in Easter Sunday, I
continue to contemplate death, resurrection, and faith from my new point of
view as a grieving parent who has lost a child.
I know that without my faith in Christ I would be even more despondent
and depressed over this loss. Yet even
with that faith, the sorrow runs deep and wide and is flowing anew as this
first anniversary approaches.
In Whitman’s book entry for April 4, she quotes another
author named Terry Tempest Williams who wrote the following comments on faith:
“Faith is the centerpiece of a connected life. It
allows us to live by the grace of invisible strands. It is a belief in a wisdom
superior to our own. Faith becomes a teacher in the absence of fact.”
A “belief in a wisdom superior to our own”: as I try to listen to God, to my own heart,
and to the variety of voices I am connecting with since Daniel died, it is
clear that some of my friends do not have any faith and thus do not really
understand my faith or, “how I can believe in a good God when I have lost my
son?” (In reality, no one has actually
voiced that question fully or clearly, though I have seen it sitting in between
the lines during several conversations.)
I so need a wisdom superior to my own in this season of my life; it is
very clear to me how limited my wisdom is in dealing with this loss.
“Faith becomes a teacher in the absence of fact” really
resonates with me right now as well. I
have little or no facts to go on when it comes to fully and clearly understanding
Daniel’s death in the medical sense, much less in the spiritual or cosmic sense. The
“facts” of Daniel’s death seem to elude me, if by facts I mean knowing and
understanding all the details and meaning in some provable,
beyond-a-shadow-of-a-doubt way
“Why” Daniel died is still a mystery to me both medically
and spiritually.
Hebrews 11:1 puts it this way:
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of
things not seen.”
My Christian
faith provides substance, or a foundation, and some evidence, or conviction
that there is more to this story than my limited senses physical senses can
see, touch, test, or prove to be a fact.
So in a general sense, faith is my teacher in the absence of
fact. In a more specific way, my faith
in a merciful, loving, and good God is somehow my teacher and I need to listen
to its instruction and to His guidance as I plod along this still treacherous
path of sorrow.
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