Dear Friends,

So, if you heard the “poor in spirit” sermon, you might remember that I proposed an evolving meaning for that bless-ed condition:

a little less ego...

leads to openness to the Lordship of Christ...

leads to participating in blessing poor-in-spirit neighbors.

By Sunday, I expect the next sermon will have a similar sort of evolution.

For now, I want to share a little vocabulary enrichment, pastoral counselor style. (This is likely to be the start of the sermon, so apologies to those of you who engage this blog and have to hear it all over again on Sunday!)

There’s Loss. And then there’s Bereavement.

Loss is to now not have something that you once had. As in: I lost my keys. I lost my slim figure. I lost my ability to multitask.

Bereavement is a particular sort of loss where it feels like something - most often someone - is abruptly taken from you. Loss of someone we love, especially by death, is experienced as bereavement. I’ve also had people report to me that they felt bereft when a child left home or when a spouse filed for divorce. Bereavement is the feeling that someone who’s part of the very fiber of your life has been ripped right out of your life.

If there are degrees of loss, there’s also a spectrum of experience in response to loss or bereavement. First, there’s Grief.

Grief is more than sadness. It’s a whole constellation of experiences that wash over in the wake of bereavement. (Hmm: Wake. Put a pin right there.) I’ve argued that grief is a whole body experience. It’s emotional, yes, but the emotions extend beyond sad: fearful, angry, worried and so on. Grief also has physical symptoms. For example, studies show our immune systems are compromised when we are grieving. There’s a mental aspect, too: Folks have reported being more forgetful than is their norm or unable to make sense of things that would come easily, but for the grief. On top of all that, there are often behavioral changes that come with grief: For example, someone who’s usually gregarious might need to hibernate or a favorite restaurant no longer has appeal because your dining partner is no longer in your life. Finally, grief triggers spiritual sorts of questions: questions like, “Who am I now that I’m no longer a spouse?” or “why would God let me feel this lonely?”

Grief is unique to each individual and, for each individual, it’s often unique to each experience of loss or bereavement. (BTW, as far as “stages” of grief, yes, there are aspects of the grieving process that most people experience, but by no means do they unfold in a a linear progression or predictable pattern.) Most important for where this post is heading: Grief is the more individual, personal and often-times private part of one’s response to bereavement.

And then there’s Mourning.

Mourning is often lumped in with grief - or the two are used interchangeably - but mourning is actually a whole different thing. If grief is personal and even private, mourning is shared and public. Mourning is the family and friends who gather to sit in silence with the reality that someone has died (as in the photo accompanying this post.) Mourning is a friend crying with you when you’re grieving. Mourning is the parade of food (actually, it’s the parade of friends showing their care by way of food) that arrives in the week after someone dies. Mourning is laying remains to rest after the breath of life has left a body. Mourning is gathering at church for a worship service in hopes of hearing God’s promises as we face the reality of death. In other words, mourning involves rituals that bring a community together to grieve together and to offer mutual comfort to one another.

So, yes, there’s grieving

and then there’s mourning.

And “Bless-ed are those who mourn,” says the Lord, “for they will be comforted.”

See you Sunday (when I think I’ll pick up that pin I dropped several paragraphs ago).

Peace,

Lisa

Photo of artwork from Unsplash