Get Over It!

Rev. Mimi McDowell
My first job out of graduate school was as the neonatal/pediatric social worker for a large hospital. While I was leading a support group for parents who had lost a child, one mother reported that a psychiatrist had told her, “It has been six weeks. You should be over it by now.” Oh my! That is not only rotten psychiatry; it is awful theology! To suggest that any death is “gotten over” within six weeks, especially a parent’s loss of a child, is unfathomable.

Lauren Winner not only dispels the myth that death is to be gotten over, but she presents a compelling argument for the rituals of communal mourning. When I was in college a sorority sister of mine died suddenly at the age of 19. In the days following her death and funeral we all wore black ribbons pinned just above our sorority pins, as an outward symbol of our mourning. There was something powerful in that. Many people stopped and asked about the black ribbon, and each time we would have the opportunity to tell the story of our friend and our grief at having lost her. Being able to tell the story, and having others honor your grief, helps to bring healing to the mourner.

For several years I have offered the reflection at a local hospice’s annual memorial service. As a part of the reflection, the congregation is always invited to speak aloud, in unison, the name of their loved one who has died. In the cacophony of voices, there is a feeling of community – of a diverse group united by a shared pain. In my reflection I almost always refer to the Psalms because I find them to be so genuinely honest in their expressions of pain and lament. One of my favorites is Psalm 30. “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning,” the Psalmist David tells us. He doesn’t deny that there is cause for weeping. There was no pretense that life is all about joy. But he also offers assurance that the weeping will not last forever, but for only a night. Now we can quibble over how long that night really is. Certainly it is more than what we normally think of as one night, eight to ten hours of darkness at the end of a day. The truth is that the darkness of grief has no set time; no definition of when that night is over.

But the good news that the psalmist gives us is that weeping does not have the last word. At the end of human suffering comes rejoicing. God will even turn our mourning into dancing, according to the psalm. “You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.” (Ps. 30:11) But notice that weeping precedes joy, and mourning precedes dancing. David doesn’t give us false hope that life will be easy or pain-free. He acknowledges the cycle of life – suffering and relief, pain and joy, crying and laughing, mourning and dancing. And, as this season of Lent reminds us, perhaps even death and resurrection!