The Stories We’re In

A friend of mine lost his dad about two years ago. This was before COVID, so he was able to travel home to be with his father during his last few days and to be with his family for their mourning and the funeral. His brother picked him up at the airport, and as they were driving back to their parent’s house, and crying together and laughing together, my friend said, “you know, losing a parent is nearly a universal human experience, why is it that nothing we can do prepares us for it?” There seems to be something about being human, that when we lose those who are closest to us, we feel completely alone. If you've lost somebody dear to you, know that feeling; that feeling that you were totally unprepared for this, that nobody has ever understood what you're going through now. And today, I want us to feel not quite so alone. Today, I want to invite you into a time of shared remembrance for all those we have lost in this terrible year. People have died from COVID, from illness made worse by the limitations of the pandemic, from the ordinary vagaries of life. Some have died simply because their time on this earth was over. Now, more than ever, grief is something we share; even as each individual loss cuts its own hole in each heart. As we begin this time of shared grief and remembrance, I invite you to remember those you have loved and lost, and to say their names aloud now.

Remember those who are dear to you, feel the tenderness in their own heart, know that all of our hearts feel that tenderness this morning, all the hearts, of all the people, watching this video with you now, as isolated as we feel we are not alone in our grief. We are together as vulnerable and loving people who care for and support one another. As a community, and as a human family, we need an opportunity to remember those we have lost to COVID. In our own church community, we remember Barry Morgan. The time will come when we can have a memorial service for Barry. I've been visiting with Maru and remembering him. And we do look forward to that day when we can all be together as a community. But I didn't want to wait until that day came to remember Barry, a little bit, with you. Barry was a longtime member of this church. He loved Worcester, he loved First Unitarian Church. He loved going on adventures; when he was a young man, he was a mountaineer, he climbed in Alaska, and other places around the world. You know, I only knew Barry in these last few years of his life, and so, his adventures had become a little more circumscribed; he wasn't climbing mountains anymore, but he still loved to drive around Worcester; to get in his car and go where his fancy took him to see what adventures he could have today. I asked Maru how she would want Barry to be remembered and she said, “remember that he was thoughtful, that he was generous, that he loved Worcester and he loved the church”. He was always ready with a kind smile and a handshake. Ready to get to know new people dedicated to this city and its institutions, dedicated to beauty and art and kindness. We remember Barry in our hearts today, as somebody this church lost to COVID. We remember too, those in our church who lost loved ones, their beloved dead include: Marjorie Borg, Santina Stafford, Paul Ronn, Ann Pingeton Goodwin, Stephen Chamberlain, Terry McAlister, and Reginald Lee Hannaford. Some of these people died of COVID, and some died of other causes; members of our church are holding these loved ones in their hearts this morning. And there certainly are those we don't know personally, who have died of COVID, but whose loss we feel as a global community. A spiritual practice I can recommend to you is reading the obituaries of people that you don't know. The New York Times has been running short obituaries on people who have died of COVID all over the world. Just a few who come to my mind this morning are: Archbishop Oscar Cruz, a faithful campaigner against corruption in his native Philippines, and the musician John Prine, an American songwriter, he said, “to believe in this living, is just a hard way to go”. And not everybody who died of COVID, died in the Spring, and not everybody was well known; Ke'Lin Dillard died just last month in Baton Rouge, Louisiana at the age of 29. She was a caregiver for disabled adults, and she died just days after giving birth to her second daughter; these losses are hard, and they continue to mount. Nearly 200,000 people have died of COVID in the United States, nearly 1 million have died worldwide, it is right for us to pause in moments of mourning to remember that.

Grief is such a universal feeling, and yet it makes each one of us feel utterly alone. We can know intellectually that someone else's grief for their loved one who died is the same as the grief we feel for those loved ones we have lost, and yet, it's so hard to connect across that gulf. Each one of us knows what grief feels like, you know what grief feels like, it's physically painful. Your heart hurts, your back hurts, it's hard to sit still, but it's hard to stand up, you might wander around the house, you cry without ceasing, or perhaps you wish you could cry, but you can't. You feel totally unfit for being with other people, you experience a kind of emotional deadlock, where there's a weight inside of you that needs relief, but you can't put it down. You feel disbelief that the person you've loved is gone, and you feel a feeling of total aloneness, so your grief makes you unreachable, as though no one can get to you through the pain. That makes it worse, that isolation compounds our pain by separating us from each other, the separation though, it is an illusion. Everyone knows grief, and in our grief, we are not alone. We can find more comfort and more hope by reaching out to one another, even in our grief. I think this is what Brené Brown is talking about when she talks about courage, and the courage to have connection with each other. She says the reason we're here as people on this earth is connection. It's what drives us in our lives as human beings. And we find connection by being courageous and vulnerable with each other. If you're grieving, and you reach out to a friend, maybe on the telephone or on zoom these days, you know, it might not be a neat and tidy conversation. You might find yourself crying on that zoom call or unable to put into words what you need from your friend. And that might bring up feelings of embarrassment or even shame, that you can't be put together or emotionless or rational about your feelings. But your friend isn't put together or emotionless or rational about their feelings either, and your vulnerability and courage and reaching out lets them meet you where you are as a human being, and create that connection that sustains us in good times and in bad times. The friend too has known grief, they are there with you. Even God is with us in our grief. We don't believe in some God who cruelly decides the fate of every person, who says “this one dies, this one lives.”  We believe in a spirit who is with us, who comforts us, who moves between us through our connections, the spirit cries with us. God says “for the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt, I mourn, oh that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep.” The Holy mourns with us. God is vulnerable with us. Mourning binds us together. In this season of pandemic, we look for vulnerability and compassion in one another and from our leaders. We look for the wise king from our story this morning. We look for leaders who grieve with us, who mourn their own losses, who recognize our fears, who take the people's hardship as their own. Authentic human community is built through compassion, and we expect no less from our leaders than from each other. All of us have known grief, and all of us will know more, grief binds us together. In remembering those who have died during this pandemic, we can become one people. We comfort one another, reach out to one another, even God is with us in our mourning. Those we have lost live in us, and are with us, and our act of love and compassion. 

I love you all. Amen.