I waited patiently upon the Lord; he stooped to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the desolate pit, out of the mire and clay;
He set my feet upon a high cliff and made my footing sure.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Psalm 40:1-3
Winter months in Michigan present opportunities for slipping and sliding on snow and ice; not so this year. It’s been cold, but the walks and parking lots are dry. I have found many coins on the pavement this winter. Though they have been only small denominations, I nonetheless wonder who lost them. And, then I am struck by larger losses – the losses felt by the number of people who have grieved at the funerals of relatives and friends during the last few years or even recently during the holidays.
Anyone experiencing the death of a loved one knows that listening to scientific or medical descriptions of what has happened to a loved one brings little to no relief. Understanding doesn’t bandage a broken heart or provide true and complete closure. There is still emptiness, aching, tears, and a whirling disorientation that only death can bring.
The feeling of being trapped in a pit after death is common. It can overwhelm us, especially when we realize that the bottom of the pit is layered in the mud of past regrets, and the sides of the pit covered with the slippery clay of future worries. One cries out in what feels like a futile endeavor. Emotional numbness and subsequent denial only last for a while. Inevitably, reality sinks in. A tsunami of feelings then breaks through leaving our heart with a desolate landscape mired in loss.
St. Francis was not a foreigner to loss. In caring for outcasts, he repeatedly looked directly at death. Embracing a person with leprosy created a way for him that lifted him out of his desolate pit – a pit that initially held him by his fear of death. His faith, based in the suffering and resurrection of Christ, allowed him to clearly see death for what it was. Behold, death was not only a friend, but also a “sister.”
Death, as his sister, was not to be shunned, shamed, or pushed away. St. Francis embraced death the way he embraced the sun, moon, wind, water, and air. All are connected and nothing is to be feared.
St. Francis, like Jesus, had moved beyond the split in our minds that creates the pain surrounding death – separation. Loss can be felt, but it is seeing that all things are one in Christ that allows healing. There is no real way that we are separated from anyone that we have lost. Through Christ, we are never separated or alone.
In Christ’s love witnessed through community, we are pulled out of the mire and clay. There is no more slipping, sliding, and fear of what death might bring. Our feet are placed on a higher ground by God. We can look back over the valley of death, and find that there is no one there.
Life and death are but one – an expanding creation that is ultimately made up of only God’s love. Everyone is forever joined together through the death and resurrection of Christ. We can rest in the assurance that we and our loved ones together are being surrounded by a loving creation.
In times of loss, we are loved.
Prayers and Blessings.
Fr. John
