I’ve had poetry on the mind this week. Perhaps its because of how chaotic the world has been feeling. Between elections and global chaos and grandkids in school and people I love getting sick…it’s just a lot to sort through. As a friend’s mother would say in her straight forward way: “Such is life…best just get on with it.” Not a bad tactic at times.
But when getting on with it is something I can or want to do, when I linger with my feelings for a while, I turn to poetry. Poets seem to be able to say what our hearts are feeling but our minds can’t quite process, you know? Poets paint pictures with their words when our realities are too hard to understand. They give space to our often-floundering spirits in a way that boldly speaks truth rather than attempting to force any specific existence that we’d prefer over the one we currently have.
In much the same way I often turn to scripture when I don’t know what to say or do, I turn to poetry. I figure that surely someone somewhere at some point in time has said what it is I long to say, what I pray you would hear when you come to this space, especially on days like this. Because I know days like this are hard. The longer we spend together, the harder they get. Each year, the list of our saints grows longer.
Part of me wants to just stand here this morning and tell you not to worry. That, with the words of Revelation before us, we are called to remember that we’ve been given a gift.. God has made us a promise that death is not the end of the story. God will make all things new and the life light that lives in each of us will continue to shine brightly even after our bodies wear out.
John’s “vision of the [holy] city with it’s gleaming golden streets and pearly gates, where death and tears are no more “ is a piece of poetry that “has given form and voice to the dreams of God’s people throughout the ages… From Augustine’s “City of God” through William Blakes’ “Jerusalem” and Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream,” John’s words have inspired our most powerful poets and prophets… [and in these words we see reflected God’s promise of] life and healing, reconciliation and justice.” (Barbara Rossing at www.workingpreacher.com)
All of this fills me up with so much joy and hope. And I believe all of it with all of my heart. I believe that the energy pulsing in our veins, that causes our hearts to beat and our brain to fire off synapses, must go somewhere. A scientist said that right? Was it Mayer? I’m not sure., but I do know that the law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, although it can be changed from form to another. So, when these bodies no longer hold this energy it is changed, but it is not destroyed. How wonderful that faith and science can join forces and, in the process, we find hope that all these loved ones are with us still. What joy to hold that truth close. That they are not lost to us, their energy still exists in us and in our living.
But another part of me feels like we need to give space to our sorrow. Because as much as I believe all that…. And I do… I can’t deny that I feel sad today… I miss some of these faces a whole lot. And while there was a time when I would have just tried to build on the joy of our faith, hide the tears and deny the grief, mostly out of concern that it would look like I wasn’t faithful enough, I have come to understand that giving space to our sorrow is a really important part of our faith work too.
I fear modern society has ruined grieving for us in some ways. I mean I guess it’s good that we don’t have to wear black for a year following a loss like we did in the 1800’s. On the other hand, social media has tried, most successfully, to push the idea that sorrow is something to be avoided. That positivity and joy are the only acceptable emotions to portray to the world and that all the hard stuff we carry should be kept to ourselves, separated from our upbeat chipper public personas.
But what would it be like if we could combine the two? What if we could be brave enough, honest enough, to weave our joy and our sorrow together?
The Poet Kahlil Gibran wrote:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises
Was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
The more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine
The very cup that was burned in the potters cup?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit
The very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous,
Look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart
And you shall see that in truth you are weeping for
That which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “joy is greater than sorrow,”
And others say, “no, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say, they are inseparable.
There are parts of scripture where we read in a blink of an eye God will transform us from perishable to imperishable (1 Corinthians 15), there are stories where Jesus says he is going to prepare a place for us in God’s house (John 14), there is Paul’s message reminding us of the Great Cloud of Witness that has gone before us (Hebrews 12) and then there’s that incredible image from Revelation 7 where John sees a multitude that no one could count from every nation, and every tongue, all gathered around the throne of God, singing and dancing and filled with praise for the Holy One. All these things make space for joy and hope to grow in us as we trust that God holds in peace all those we love.
But what I’m thankful for in today’s reading is that it isn’t really about those who have died. Today’s reading is about us. All of us who have gathered at this table, those of us who remember, and give thanks.
To people like us John’s vision is powerful because it does not talk about God taking us away from this life. Rather it tells us that God will come to us and meet us right here, right where we are. With all our joys and all our sorrows woven together we are inseparable from God who promises to dwell among us. And at this table, fed by the bread and renewed by the cup, God wipes away all our tears. Wipes them away, not take them away completely, reminding us that in all the ups and downs of life, God is right there feeling those emotions with us, supporting us and loving us.
For this we give thank. Amen.
