Grief and Thanksgiving

Note: To respect the privacy of those involved, I have not used any names in this post.  

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On occasion we all get a bit down, thanks to little irritants that loom up and take on an importance far exceeding their reality. This is no virtue because, in truth, it’s more than a little selfish. Were Diane not so kind, she could tell you of my susceptibility to these episodes of self-centered grumpiness. But in my defense, I can honestly say they never last long and are soon overwhelmed by the joy of living each day God has given me. I suppose we’re all rather selfish critters until we step away from ourselves and focus on others and on the Other. The catalyst for this change, at least in extreme cases, often involves coming face to face with tragedy. When tragedy strikes close to us, the minor irritants of our lives become almost meaningless in light of another’s deep suffering.

This past Friday, I got a call from a local funeral director asking if I would conduct a brief service at the funeral home for a young man of 33 who had died just days before. The deceased’s wife would fly in that evening from the northeast with two of her husband’s friends. The funeral director hoped I could conduct the service early Saturday afternoon. My schedule was clear, so I agreed. When I asked for more information about the man, I was told he was involved in telecommunications, and that he and his wife had been married only six months. The couple were both immigrants from Belarus, as were the friends accompanying her. The funeral director then informed me the young man had committed suicide. He had hanged himself. Death at a young age is always tragic and death by suicide doubly so. 

I realized I had to speak with the young widow as soon as possible and was given her cell phone number. I managed to catch her on her way to the airport. She spoke excellent English which is good because my Belarusian is non-existent. We talked for only about 10 minutes because I could tell she was devastated and probably needed time with her friends. But she had told me enough about her husband so I could at least prepare the service and my homily. He was Catholic and she is Orthodox. “A kind and generous man,” she said, but a man also afflicted with addictions that plagued and depressed him. “But he truly loved God,” she added, “and I think he just wanted to escape his problems and be with Him.” 

When I arrived at the funeral home, his body was in an open casket in the chapel. His widow, a lovely young woman, was standing over him, stroking his head and sobbing almost uncontrollably. I approached her and quietly introduced myself. She simply thanked me for agreeing to be there, then hugged me long and hard. It reminded me of the hugs I used to receive from Diane when I returned from a long Navy cruise to the Western Pacific. I think she saw in me, this grandfather-like figure with a deacon’s cross around his neck, a faint connection to God, someone who could make some sense of everything. I could see her husband had been a strapping and handsome young man, and like his two friends, who spoke little English, was no stranger to hard work. As you might imagine, the scene was one of almost inescapable sorrow and I realized I had to inject it with a real sense of hope.

Too many Christians believe suicide is somehow irredeemable, always an insurmountable obstacle to salvation. I have never accepted this, and often argued with those who expressed such a merciless belief. I call it merciless, because it denies both the mercy and justice of our loving God. You and I can never know what lies deep within the heart of another, and to believe otherwise is to assume we possess divine knowledge. Suicide is not a normal response to life’s challenges, and too often is driven by any number of mental instabilities, including addictions. Full consent may not be present when one makes such an agonizing decision, especially when it is made precipitously. Is it sinful? Yes, of course. But so too are many other things you and I do on a daily basis. Divine Mercy cannot be limited by you and me. By trying to do so we turn ourselves into little false gods who actually believe we can know the mind and heart of our one, true God, and then demand He follow our lead when it comes to salvation. I’ve always taken hope knowing that God wills all to be saved. How did St. Paul put it?

“First of all, then, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth. For there is one God. There is also one mediator between God and the human race, Christ Jesus, himself human, who gave himself as ransom for all” [1 Tim 2:1-6].

We don't make salvation decisions about others; we let God do that. Far better if you and I simply trust and pray for the souls of those who have gone before us.

Another serious side-effect of suicide is the presence of guilt that can overwhelm the survivors, especially spouses, parents, and even children. As I told this young man’s widow, if you are tempted to dwell on all you could have said or done differently, thinking that you might have prevented this tragedy, don’t go there; it’s not a good place. Such thoughts are never beneficial and only drive you to despair. I really believe Satan is the one who plants these thoughts in grieving hearts. I also told her, "If you should find yourself there, leave." As St. Paul instructed us, offer supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings. "Pray for the soul of your husband; thank God for the time you had with each other; and pray too for his parents and family in Belarus who are surely grieving with you." We will not know the answers to all of our questions until we are with God in heaven. It is so much better to spend our time here thanking Him. 

I really believe the best antidote for grief, and pain, and hardship is thanksgiving. I know I’ve posted this poem by Joyce Kilmer before, but I think it deserves another reading, especially today. Kilmer wrote it while in the trenches during World War One, not long before he was killed by a German sniper. He was 31 years old.

                Thanksgiving

The roar of the world is in my ears.
Thank God for the roar of the world!
Thank God for the mighty tide of fears
Against me always hurled!

Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife,
And the sting of His chastening rod!
Thank God for the stress and the pain of life,
And Oh, thank God for God!