Comforting those who mourn in this difficult time

I write this column in early Advent, as the “New Year” of the church has just begun. When you read this column, the new calendar year of 2022 will be upon us, and we will mark the second anniversary of journeying through the pandemic together.

The pandemic has made it hard for many of us to keep track of time. Psychologists tell us that our normal daily or weekly routines are like rituals, which anchor us and give us a sense for where we are in time—and when those rituals were disrupted or lost during the pandemic, many of us found ourselves needing to stop and think about what week or year we were in.

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Rituals are important to us—the unconscious ones we do each day, and the ones we turn to in times of celebration, like baptisms or weddings, or in times of desolation, like funerals. 

For All Souls Day in early November, our Cathedral held a beautiful requiem Eucharist, during which I prayed the names of more than 500 people from the households of our diocese, who passed away during the pandemic—conscious that many of their family members and friends were unable to be present at their funerals.

Thomas Lynch, an author and undertaker, once said that, at the time of death, a person is a “changeling.” For family and friends, the person is “still there,” and it is profoundly disrespectful to say that a body is “just a shell” in the early hours and days after a death. A funeral is when we give permission to say farewell to the body and spirit of someone who has died. As Christians, funerals are also a time to recognize that life does not end with death.

Because death can be a blow to our core beliefs, a funeral seeks to gently remind us of those things that are sure and certain. It is a ritual which reassures us that even the most painful loss does not mean everything has been suddenly dismantled. It is unfortunate when the content and tone of a funeral either ignore the reality of those who grieve or fail to name a greater reality than the fact that the person has died.

Anglican funeral rites acknowledge grief in the light of glory and offer rich words of consolation, comfort, and hope. They provide a deeply reassuring atmosphere, where grieving a loss, celebrating a life, and commending an immortal soul to God can be accomplished.

The gathering of supportive people, the reciting of familiar words, and the actions of commending and committing someone to God help us reconnect with life beyond the immediate loss of a loved one. The funeral ritual offers a safe space to release the conflicted emotions of grief and bring to an end the work of saying goodbye—even as it helps provide us with a new foundation to stand on.

My heart goes out to everyone who lost a loved one during the pandemic and were unable to have or be at a proper funeral. This prayer may speak to you:  

Creator of all, I pray to you for N, whom I love but see no longer. Grant them your peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of your perfect will. And grant that I may have strength to meet the days to come with steadfastness and patience; not sorrowing as one without hope, but in thankful remembrance of your great goodness, and in the joyful expectation of eternal life with those I love. This I ask in the name of the risen Christ. Amen.