Hello bloggers! I am not sure how this week got away from me and no entry on the blogosphere. Here it is Saturday afternoon and I am trying to put into words something that I have reflected on often over the past few years and that has arisen for me yet again. The catalyst this time was a sad day. 

Last Sunday I was not at worship at BUC. That morning I was, instead, on route to Burlington for a family gathering. It was not a fun, summer family picnic or reunion. My aunts and uncles and cousins were gathering to say farewell to my cousin who had died in March. Brenda was just six months older than me. It’s true; when we are young we think of ourselves as invincible but when people our age die the preciousness of life is brought home to us.

At first the family wasn’t sure they wanted anything formal.  For the most part they are not religious people and funerals seem so …religious. I understand their feelings. I hear it often at the poignant and painful moment of life when a loved one has died. Traditionally a funeral has been a religious ceremony. Scripture is read, prayers are prayed, and sometimes even hymns are sung. As our culture becomes less and less comfortable with the religious service people are often at a loss as to what to do. They don’t want to be hypocritical and frankly, if you are not accustomed to church services, scripture readings and prayers can seem like a foreign language.

So, too often people opt for nothing. My cousins were thinking this might be the way to go. Not only the discomfort with something too religious but also because the anticipation of a service was just too painful, the formal saying good-bye just too hard. Thankfully, at least in my opinion, this is not what happened.

At first we were just going to get together and visit but not have anything formal. This works for some people; stories are told, tears flow -interspersed with laughter.  But, with my offer to speak (after all, that is what I do!) the plan for a ritual started to form. In the end several friends spoke, we sang a couple of hymns, one cousin sang a solo, another cousin offered a prayer and yes, it roused out grief, but it was also healing.

At the time of a death that is the main reason we engage in ritual. It is healing. We put into action and word emotions that are hard to express but need to be acknowledged in some way. I am often with families as they walk that holy walk of saying good-bye.  And I have been through several funerals for loved ones when I was a mourner. The age-old ritual at the time of a death comes to us for a reason. It is healing. The being together, the expression of grief, the stories told, the moments remembered, the love cherished, these all bring healing to those of us who are mourning. As a Christian, putting my grief into the context of faith helps me move from a place of pain and loss to a place of hope and comfort. 

I will always miss my cousin. The ritual does not take away the loss. But it does honour her. Her family and friends gathered and it was a public declaration that her life made a difference.  And when it was over, as painful as it was, I felt better.