LAMENT FOR A SON April 5, 2012, Maundy Thursday Mark 14:32-42 Rebekah M. Hutto, The Brick Presbyterian Church in the City of New York Loving God, It was the beginning of salvation on that night long ago that you prepared your disciples for all the things which were to happen. Gracious God, we tell these stories once again on this night of remembrance and ask that your Word be made fresh to all of us in this place. Open our hearts to receive your grace that we may remember and be thankful for your sacrifice of love. Amen. In 1987 Eerdman s Publishing Company printed a small little book by theology professor Nicholas Wolterstorff. At the time Wolterstorff was the distinguished professor of Philosophical Theology at Yale Divinity School. But this book was different from anything else he d written. You see, in 1983 Wolterstorff received a tragic phone call on a Sunday afternoon his son, 25 years old, had fallen in a mountain climbing accident and died. His greatest fear realized, Wolterstorff stood frozen as the icy burning pain of reality set in. His son, his beloved Eric, was gone. Over the following days and weeks Wolterstorff moved through a whirlwind of emotions, from anger to confusion, from grief to despair. Several years later, he published his journal writings during that time, sharing with the world what it was like for him to grieve the death of his child. Appropriately, Wolterstorff named his book, Lament for a Son. This book was assigned to B.J. and me in our Intro to Pastoral Care class in seminary. And although I found it profound the first time I read it, rereading it as a pastor, I think it is an amazingly vivid and accurate account of heartache and grief. In these brief 100 pages, Wolterstorff asks painfully difficult questions, he cries out in anguish, and he mourns his present and future realities. Consequently, by releasing his intimate journal writings to the public, he allows his readers to grieve with him. Whether you ve experienced the grief of losing a child or suffered any - 1 -
number of other tragedies, you can t help but join your voice with his. Wolterstorff offers this invitation in the book, To comfort me, you have to come close. Come sit beside me on my mourning bench. 1 Friends, this is the same invitation that Jesus offers his disciples this night in the garden of Gethsemane. The passage that Nigel just read is one of the most intensely emotional encounters we have with Jesus. After supper he asks his disciples to follow him into the darkness and quiet of the garden. While still talking to them, scripture says that Jesus is distressed and agitated ; Jesus says out loud that he feels deeply grieved, even to the point of death. At the climax of his grief, Jesus physically throws his body on to the ground and prays through his sorrow. Sadly, though, his disciples miss all of this. Even after repeated requests from Jesus to keep awake, they fall asleep, failing to sit with him in his grief. But hopefully, we have learned from their mistake. Through Jesus anguish in the garden, we are given the opportunity to lament the Son s death. But lament is not always something that comes naturally to us, in fact it s probably a practice we d rather do in private, if at all. Although, to quote an op-ed piece from The New York Times, If you live in New York, you re bound to end up crying in public eventually; there just aren t enough private places. 2 Whether you have the space or not, true peace, no matter the situation, requires faithful lament. To lament is to grieve, mourn, and express our deep sorrow for the brokenness of the world. By participating in this practice, we join the voices of the many in Scripture and the Church who ve grieved out loud. King David called upon everyone around him to weep and lament over the deaths of Saul and Jonathan. 3 Job s friends tore their clothes, wept aloud, and sat in ashes with their friend for seven days and seven nights. 4 And the prophet Jeremiah, during the 1 Wolterstorff, Nicholas. Lament for a Son. Wm B. Eerdman s Publishing Company, Michigan, 1987. Pg. 34 2 Look at Me, I m Crying, By Melissa Febos, April 20, 2011, 7:30 PM, The New York Times. http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/20/look-at-me-im-crying/ 3 II Samuel 1:17-27 4 Job 2:12-13. - 2 -
Babylonian exile, hears echoes of the matriarch Rachel weeping and crying for the suffering of Israel s children. 5 Therefore, Jesus anguish in the garden, forceful and hidden from no one, falls within this Biblical tradition of ritual mourning and grief. And we are invited to join him in this mourning. After all, to quote Wolterstorff, if he is worth loving, he is worth grieving over. 6 Once in a pastoral counseling session, I was talking with a woman whose family had been through great tragedy in the course of the previous year. In her tears and anguish she told me, You know, I m just ready to be done with all of this pain and find out what the lesson behind all of this is. Although I could sympathize with her need to be free from pain, I was sad to hear her say that she didn t have time for the lament she desperately needed. I think she, like many, felt that there was no time in her schedule to grieve, and that most of the people around her would appreciate it if she d move on. Consequently, she thought to be faithful meant she had to find the silver lining and get beyond the pain. She thought the appropriate Christian response was to look for what God was teaching her in this moment, rather than sit in the moment and grieve with God over the tragedies in her life. What I told her then, and what I share with you tonight, is that in the face of tragedy the faithful response is lament. There is a time to mourn, and tonight Christ invites us to grieve with him. Holy Week in our liturgical calendar gives us the opportunity to allow the stories of this night to weigh heavy on our hearts. On this night and through the coming days, we remember our Lord s suffering not because we celebrate violence, but because we know that pain is real and it doesn t go away easily. We could live our lives as if there was only Palm Sunday and Easter, only the shouts of Hosanna and Alleluia. But for those who ve suffered, we know life includes the painful stories of Holy Week. Tonight I m not asking you to look for the silver lining. I m not asking for you to move on and forget the hurt in this world. Tonight, I m asking you to grieve with Jesus, to recognize that there is much in our world that cries out in lament. 5 Jeremiah 31:15. 6 Wolterstorff, pg. 5. - 3 -
In his book, Wolterstorff questions a world that asks that we hide our tears. He says, I have been... grievously wounded. [Consequently] I shall look at the world through tears. Perhaps I shall see things that dry-eyed I could not see. 7 Friends, seeing the world through tears means that we open our eyes and feel deeply our own wounds and the wounds of others. The stories and music of this night speak to those who ve lost loved ones. They speak to the pain of parents who weep for their children. They speak to those who cry out for justice. The stories of this night remind us all of loss and brokenness. But although painful, lamenting over these losses is necessary. Because, in our lament we find that it is Christ who first laments for us. Jesus, our Messiah, alone in the garden, cries out in anguish and invites us to grieve with him. In his suffering, he redeems our pain. By sitting on the mourning bench with Jesus, then, we realize that his anguish in the garden is what defines his love for us. Wolterstorff admits that of all the things he knew about God as a Christian and a theologian, he never before saw the suffering of God. He saw God s radiance, God s beauty, God s glory, but never God s pain. But after his son s death, Wolterstorff says his eyes were opened to the suffering God. As he lamented the death of his own son, he saw the God who cries out in lament for the Son, Jesus. In order to redeem our brokenness, instead of striking some mighty blow of power, God sent his beloved Son to suffer like us... Instead of explaining our suffering God shares it. 8 And in sharing it, God shows his great love for us. The pews of this church will be full this coming Sunday, because the story of Easter is the hope we all long for. But in order to get there, we must keep awake tonight in the garden and pray with our Lord. We must grieve, maybe shed tears, and open our hearts to the pain he suffered. 7 Wolterstorff, pg. 26. 8 Wolterstorff, pg. 81. - 4 -
So come, come to the garden, come to the mourning bench, come and lament the son. Hear his cries, feel his pain, and lift up your voice in prayer with him. Come, even if your heart is heavy with pain. Come, even if the story of his death upsets you. Come to the table, come to the garden, watch the arrest, witness the mockery, and sit at the foot of the cross. Come, because if he is worth loving, he is worth grieving over. 9 Amen. 9 Wolterstorff, pg. 5. - 5 -