day 9 / bodies that need to grieve
Monday, December 6, 2021
BCP Readings: Psalms 25, 9, 15 | Amos 7:1-9 | Revelation 1:1-8 | Matthew 22:23-33
The weeks leading up to Christmas are typically crammed with media exhortations to optimistic sentiments in the U.S. Ads, movies, and music specials promoting “holiday cheer” inundate our waking hours. I’m sure the cultural pressure to get in the spirit of the season is part of capitalism’s ploy to excite or guilt people into buying more stuff. Holiday goods a good and happy holiday make, so the season sings. Even if you or your loved ones happen to be struggling in some way this December, putting a smile on your face and joining in a carol or two like the Whos in Whoville will ensure your holiday is picture-perfect.
But the days in this season are like days in every other season. People still get stressed. People still suffer. People still argue with one another. People still battle illnesses of all kinds, especially in an ongoing global COVID pandemic. People still have to bury family members and friends. People don’t stop being human beings who experience hardship, loneliness, pain, frustration, exhaustion, enmity, and loss for the last thirty-one days of the year.
Although the dominant American media messaging would have everyone believe that they have to clothe their bodies in a pretense of reindeer sweater joy in the days leading up to December 25, Advent presents a different invitation.
In Revelation 1:7, a prophetic word about the coming of the risen Jesus depicts every person witnessing his appearance. The verse slows down to underline that “every eye” includes the people who put him to death. Then it shows all the peoples of every nation lamenting. Jesus’s presence does not prompt universal celebration in this scene. Instead, there is great grief.
Now, the many misuses of the book of Revelation throughout church history might prompt some interpreters to read this moment as one of judgment against sinners. Those who have not joined “the faith” with a capital F, some might conclude, are realizing the error of their ways and responding with “wail[ing]” for themselves. But I think that take on this verse misses the mark.
What I see in this verse is something similar to the mourning of the murder of George Floyd that stretched across the globe in 2020. When the news about his murder spread, masses of people took up vigil, marched in streets, and mourned for him and his family as well as for so many other black lives who have unjustly suffered and died from white supremacy’s operations.
The collective grieving in Revelation, as I read it, revolves around the unjust, brutal death that Jesus endured. When people behold this one who was “pierced,” they respond here not with jeers and insults as so many did at his crucifixion, but with lament. It’s like a moment of profound recognition in which the true horror of his execution and its display of injustice on his body comes to light. Rather than turning to strategies of denial (“this was just a tragic accident”), victim-blaming and shaming (“he must have done something wrong”), changing the subject (“all lives matter”), or making excuses for the perpetrators (“they were just following orders,” “they were some of the few bad apples”), everyone lays down their defenses and steps into mourning together.
I envision them acknowledging that his life mattered and feeling the loss. I imagine them comprehending the injustice of the empire’s operations and crying out about the wounds inflicted. I picture people taking time to sit with one another in the sadness, anger, and heartache of it all and to remember him. I see love moving bodies to finally know how sacred each and every body is because they finally understand how sacred all degraded, discarded bodies are.
Revelation 1:7 makes ample space for grief in Advent. This space is wide enough for the sorrow of losing loved ones, for the confusion and pain of traumatic suffering, and even for the horrifying violence, destruction, and death inflicted by fellow human beings and communities. Advent does not insist that we rush past the struggles and losses that we experience in order to manufacture some kind of idealized Christian hopefulness or joy. It actually gives us permission—and even encourages us—to take time to mourn, personally and communally, so that true healing of even the deepest injustice-wrought wounds can begin.
If a reindeer sweater and cheery smile don’t fit you this Advent season, that’s all right. There are plenty of mourning clothes available, free for the taking.
Notes
Image of “Candles” is by Mike Labrum on the Unsplash website
