This Sunday reveals the dual nature of our lives – the endless combination, the dissonance and harmony between glory and pain, laughter and tears, good-bye and hello, new chapters of life, and the closing of life’s book. Some preachers complain about the Palm Sunday lectionary, uneasy about the pairing of the ‘palm’ and the ‘passion’ Gospel texts. The complaints focus on the dissonance of the two narratives; it’s not easy to pair a celebratory parade that includes exultant palm waving with suffering and pain, the simple joy of the crowd with the dark plotting of those who wished to see Christ dead. But I would like to oppose that complaint, reminding us all that this dissonance reveals the character of what life is; the coexistence of suffering and blessing, relished triumph and anticipatory grief. Holmes Rolston says, “The secret of life is that it is a passion story.”
Elisabeth Kubler Ross explains what anticipatory grief is; In
childhood we realize at some point that we will die, and not only will we die
but those around us will die someday too. That is the beginning of anticipatory
grief: fear of the unknown, the pain we will all someday experience. It is
present in most of our childhood stories and movies, preparing us for
inevitable real-life sadness. “Bambi’s mother was shot!” “Simba’s dad is
dying!” in The Lion King. I have a deeply rooted anxiety, something I’ve never
shared with anyone -an anticipatory grief of my mother and father’s death which
will happen some day; I am so afraid of what feelings may come that I have a
great inner resistance to getting close to those who grieve the dying or death
of their loved ones. I don’t fear my own death right now, but I greatly
fear the death of the people I so much love. My father is quite healthy now,
but 5 years ago, when I lived in Burnaby, my mother called me one night to tell
me that my father was sick, bedridden at home for a week then hospitalized in
Korea. I faltered at the news, feeling dizzy. My father being so ill, so far
away across the ocean - I felt literally like the earth was upside down. I
couldn’t do anything, frozen in my worry and my fear.
A deeper anticipatory grief occurs later when someone we love
has– or we ourselves have - a terminal illness. Anticipatory grief is the
‘beginning of the end’ in our minds. When a loved one has to undergo
anticipatory grief in order to prepare for their final goodbye to this world,
we grieve, too.
We have celebrated Fran, our beloved minister, our spiritual
leader. She has shown a great spirit and strength which has marveled us, even
after being diagnosed with cancer. But as many of us are aware, within just the
past few weeks, her cancer is progressing aggressively. And with great sorrow
and deep grief, we prepare for the fact that she may be in the last stage of
her life. Many of us are experiencing depression, emptiness, an ache, the
struggle of letting go. This depression may strike us more deeply than we ever
imagined. We are the same people who were exuberant with new energy and fresh
hope - the same people who were effervescent with the expectant anticipation of
great future ventures - the same people who rejoiced at the success of the
Murder Mystery. We are the same people who experienced a lot of excitement and
many blessings with the leadership Fran provided. Then she was diagnosed with
cancer, and the excitement was tinged with worry. As time passed, the worry
became more concrete, settled in our prayers and in our souls. We lose so
many of our loved ones, the great companions in our life journeys. We may feel
guilty for grieving even before our loved ones die, but it is how we learn to
say good-bye. Saying goodbye, deep in our hearts, preparing it and practicing
it, in a whisper only we can hear at first, a rehearsal of love and gratitude
before we truly say goodbye to the person when she departs to say hello to our
Creator.
Today, on this Palm and Passion Sunday, we take time for
singing Hosannas and Alleluias as we follow the path Jesus takes, before we,
with Jesus, walk into the depth of the passion and to the foot of the cross.
With steadfast love, sturdy companionship, and confidence to God’s guidance, we
walk to the bottom of the holy cross, cradling Easter joy and hope deep in our
hearts. Our life is a mystery, not only a passion story, but something that
evolves continually, a discordant harmony at the intersection of palm waving
and passion, exaltation and sorrow. As we journey into the holiest week of the
Christian year, we are invited to truly surrender ourselves, letting ourselves
be carried to the place where deep grief and sorrow is transformed into genuine
prayers, where tears and heartbreak prepare us to say goodbye, to let go.
We can look at today’s service as moments of pain, suffering
and sorrow bracketed by hosannas and alleluias, or we could experience it as
hosannas and alleluias bracketed by moments of pain and grief, the
foreshadowing of an impending great loss. We are invited to live a sense of
Good Friday; let us pray that God may keep us strong. Let us look at each other’s
sorrow with a deep understanding and love for one another; as the sorrow will
be with us now and the days after, longer than we may imagine. We look at one
another, face to face, heart to heart, tears to tears. May God bless us as we
share our love and sorrows.
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