Comments for Jim

Sunday, October 18, 1998
Rev. James A.Todhunter

"A TIME TO MOURN AND A TIME TO DANCE"
Ecclesiastees3:1-8 Romans 8: 18-27John 16: 16-24

With the death of the Rev. Joey Noble and our farewell to her yesterday at a glorious service of worship, Christ Congregational Church is now in a time of mourning. The scripture lesson from John’s Gospel is the story of Jesus’ farewell to his disciples. The setting is the Last Supper and Jesus is determined to properly prepare his friends for what is to come. He, as always, does his best to communicate with them, knowing that they may not fully understand him. Jesus says this: "A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me." The disciples struggle with this. They simply don’t get what he is talking about. So Jesus explains, "Very truly, I will tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy."

I believe what Jesus is doing for his disciples and for us, is telling us, as Christians, how to mourn. Jesus is showing us not only how to grieve for him, but how to grieve for any beloved one who has died. And I believe he is showing us how to grieve for Joey.

At the outset, we should note that Jesus is not deploying any of the cheap words of comfort church folk are often tempted to resort to. He isn’t saying that we should really be happy because our beloved is in heaven with God, or that God picks the fairest flower of the field to be with him, or that death is just an illusion. As I said last week (and it bears repeating), these are tactics to avoid feeling bad. No, Jesus says simply and directly "You will no longer see me. You will weep and mourn. You will have pain."

How long will this pain, this weeping and sorrow last? Jesus says "For a while." How long will our grieving at Christ Congregational Church last? For a while. How long is that? We don’t know and we can’t know.

The beautiful scripture from the Third Chapter of Ecclesiastes teaches us that our time in life doesn’t just roll inexorably forward. Our lives fall into seasons. There will be times to weep and times to laugh, times to mourn and times to dance. The scriptures show us that it is very important that we recognize the season we are in, that we honor and understand it, and that we make practical allowances for what is needed.

How shall we do this at CCC? Let me briefly share some starting thoughts. First of all, I believe we need outside help to appreciate what we are going through. For the last twelve years our congregation has availed itself of consultation from the Alban Institute, in the person of Dr. Roy Oswald. Roy is a parish consultant who has dealt with hundreds of congregations and is very experienced in helping churches go through the loss of a minister. None of us can see what we need clearly because we are too close to the pain. I have spoken with Roy and he is eager to work with us. Secondly, I know that I am going to need help. During this time our tasks include taking care of ourselves spiritually, emotionally, and physically. And the daily activities of our church must continue to be looked after. I am turning to two people, friends and professional colleagues, who are familiar to you and have agreed to join our church staff on a part-time, short-term basis. They are the Rev. Shirley Coll, and the nurse and pastoral counselor Kris Glasco. Their duties will, of course, need to be developed and defined more clearly as we go along. But I wanted you to know this process has now started. I see this grieving time as a time not of doing, but of being. There will, sooner or later, be a lot to do as we think about our future; but that can wait "a little while," as Jesus says. We all have a tendency to want to get to closure on our pain and move on quickly. Not yet. In a while. Now, we need somehow to sit together and be. We need to sit together and honestly feel everything we are feeling until we have felt it all. Then, and only then, can we move on. If we move on too quickly, as individuals and as a church, we may stumble.

We need to take care of ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The death of a beloved causes us to think about who God is for us, what kind of God we believe in, what we believe about life and death, what gives us hope.

Jesus said, "A little while and you will no longer see me." And that will be a time of terrible pain and sorrow. That is the season we are in now. And it will take, in Jesus’ words, "a while." But Jesus’ full statement ends like this: "and again a little while, and you will see me." This baffles the disciples. What can Jesus mean? In the same chapter Jesus says this:

"When a woman is in labor, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice and no one will take your joy from you."

The pain of our present moment is real. It cannot be denied. It cannot be minimized. It cannot be ignored. It must be lived through. The pain is facing the reality of death. It is the reality that Joey is gone. Do not say she is with us, because that is not true. If it were true, then death would be an illusion. It is the pain of this reality and the reality of this pain that must be faced now, and, as Jesus says, "For a little while." But Jesus also says "I will see you again," "and again a little while, you will see me." Like the disciples, we ask Jesus the question "What can this possibly mean?" How do our beloved return to us? How is it that our grief is not complete until we can see our beloved again?

Successfully working through the task of grief does not mean that we have become "adjusted" to our loss. It does not mean that we have at last "gotten over" feeling bad. What it means is that we, ourselves, have grown into a new reality. We have experienced death and rebirth into new personhood. That which, in us, died with the beloved, is raised into a new person. But what also happens is that that person lives in us. We don’t see the beloved who has died walking around as before. They do not come back that way. The way we receive them back is that they have come alive again in us. They are inseparable from us. They have become us and we them.

Steve Gilbert told me a moving story last week. He said that when his father died and he began grieving for him, he had the curious and frightening experience of not being able to visualize him, not being able to picture him in his mind. This was very upsetting because he feared that this meant he was forgetting who his father was. This went on for some time. But then one day, the image of his father returned to him. He could imagine his face in his prime, and even his fine strong hands, which had meant so much to Steve as a boy. Somehow his father had returned. He had him back. But it was in a new way. His father had somehow become a part of Steve now. And in that sense he knew he could never lose him again.

I no longer weep for Marian Tate, that amazing and remarkable and all too human minister who meant so much to us. Marian doesn’t walk walk the corridors of CCC like a ghost. But Marian is with us. She is with us in CCC’s firm commitment to the love and nurture of our children. She is with us in the living reality of art and its appreciation. She is with us as a model for women in ministry. And nothing can take the joy of Marian from us. And it will be so with Joey.

But this comes at the end of the process, and not before. Unless we allow ourselves to let go, to grieve the loss, and to truly say "good-bye" then we will not be ready or able to say "hello." Indeed there is something spiritually and emotionally dangerous about clinging to a deceased beloved. When Jesus says to his disciples "A little while and you will not see me," he really means it. When the resurrected Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene outside the empty tomb that first Easter, she clings to him, but he sternly says to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father." Could it be that Jesus himself feared that Mary’s sincere devotion to him could actually prevent his ascent into heaven?

In a time of mourning, in a season of grief, we cannot hold on to our beloved who are gone. And it is that letting go that grief is about. It is the pain of setting free a soul so that it may rise.

"A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance." We are in a season of grief, it is true. But Joey herself was very clear that, no matter what sorrow we are experiencing in the moment, pain can never wipe out the possibility of joy. It is unforgettable that even her crippling and killing disease could not keep her from dancing in our chancel, like King David dancing before the ark. Therefore, let us remember that this season of grief should not and cannot be without joy. This afternoon John and I will participate in the memorial service for David Platky, beloved father of Rob Platky. Then shortly after that we will both be at the rehearsal for "The Music Man." At first glance it may seem a little crazy. But playing can be very healing. And it is one good way to take care of yourself; a good way to let feelings rise up to the surface. "The Music Man" may do us all good.

There can be joy in the midst of mourning. Whenever our children sing for us, how can we not be thrilled and filled with joy ourselves? We know that our sorrow must be tempered with relief and thanksgiving that Joey’s pain is over. The wonderful anthem we heard is a passionate reminder that a time to mourn can also be a time to dance. What joy that she has, at last, laid down her heavy load. What joy that she has now indeed put on her traveling shoes. What joy that she has donned her long, white robe. And what joy, thank God, she now wears her starry crown. Amen.

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