Grief is not a sin

[rj_anderson]

Over the last year or so I've been reading through the Bible at the rate of about a chapter a day. I just finished Jeremiah yesterday, which is a really emotionally tough book if you identify even slightly with Jeremiah*, and as I was reading the first chapter of Lamentations I was struck by a thought that's been creeping up on me for a while.

Grief is not a sin.

Well, duh, you may say. Of course it's okay to grieve. We lose people or hear terrible news or suffer disappointment, we feel sad, it would be monstrous if we didn't react that way. And I think most people would agree that this is the case.

And yet it's easy to fall into the trap of expecting that grief, or lamentation, should only last so long or go so far. Just a nice neat little grief, not too long, something you can swallow back and force a watery smile and then put your chin up and keep marching with a smile on your face. Especially if you call yourself a Christian, because Christians are supposed to be full! of! joy! and count themselves blessed when they suffer tribulation, etc.

And for this reason people -- especially religious people, it seems -- can be amazingly cruel and dismissive toward others who are hurting, by trying to pep them up with positive talk and encourage them to stop focusing on all that negative stuff, or even (the worst) condemning and shunning them if they go on grieving and lamenting past the generally accepted time period for such things.

I think a lot of this comes out of fear -- some of it genuine concern for the grieving person that they may be doing themselves harm and not looking at things in a proper perspective, but more often I think it's a fear that grieving and lamenting is somehow sinful and poisonous and should be shut down quickly before it infects others. A fear that if a person laments about their hardships and their painful situations, they are expressing rebellion against the God who allowed these difficulties in their lives, and are therefore only a few steps away from turning away from God altogether. So the best thing to do is shut it down, bottle it up, and encourage the grieving person to paste on a smile and pretend their troubles aren't nearly as bad as they seem.

What I've been seeing as I read through the Bible, however, is just how unBiblical and ungodly this kind of "put on a happy face!" attitude is. Complaining is a sin -- in the sense of faithlessly whining about a potentially bad situation without even giving God the chance to act on our behalf, or being discontented and ungrateful for the good things He's given us. And bitterness is also a sin -- locking our hearts up so tightly against God and others that we won't forgive, won't accept help or healing. But grieving and lamenting for a genuinely horrible situation? Even at great length and in detail? That's not just allowed, that's something that God Himself does through numerous prophets and other writers of the Bible.

The book of Job is the most obvious proof that grief and lamentation is not sinful in itself -- Job's lament goes on for chapter after chapter as he struggles with his sorrow and his pain and questions why God is allowing this to happen to him (yes, the Bible indicates that questioning God, even bluntly, is not a sin either -- it's all in the attitude with which you do it). But there are also many Psalms that express this kind of desperation and confusion and pain, including Psalm 88 which contains not even the slightest glimmer of hope or uplifting sentiment and ends with the phrase, "The darkness is my closest friend."

Again and again throughout the Bible we're given examples of people honestly and frankly expressing their distress and overwhelming sorrow as they go through hard times. And not once does God swoop in to say, "Now stop that lamenting! Don't you know that my children are supposed to be full of smiles and happiness all the time? You're making Me look bad here!"

So why do we mere human beings so often try to leap in -- not only with others, but even in our own hearts -- to stop the honest grieving? Do we really think God needs us to defend Him?

The book of Lamentations opens with the nation of Israel, personified as a woman, weeping bitterly over her disgrace and exile. After hundreds of years of rebellion and idolatry and covenant-breaking, the people of God were suffering the judgment God had warned would come upon them if they didn't repent -- their enemies had conquered them and taken them away from their land. And now that the worst had happened, Israel was grieving, and regretting, and lamenting all she had lost and all she had done.

And it goes on.

And on.

And on.

For pages and pages.

And as far as God is concerned, that's okay. Indeed, it's only right -- and even good. The pain needs to be fully acknowledged, and explored, and processed, before healing and restoration can begin. However long that takes... and in the case of Israel at this point, it was seventy years.

It's not just in the Old Testament***, either. The shortest verse in the Bible? "Jesus wept." Before the crucifixion He spent a full night grieving intensely, not in some private place of shame but in an open garden right in front of his disciples.

So if this kind of open, frank, unabashed exploration of grief is in the Word of God -- obviously I'm speaking to my co-religionists here -- then why are we so eager to jump in and "rescue" people from grief and regret and lamentation when we see it in our churches and our daily lives?

Sin, and all the things that have gone wrong with our world because of sin, may be the ultimate cause of every grief we suffer, and it's true that one day all tears will be wiped away forever and that will be a very good thing. But until that happens, grieving and lamenting and suffering over sin and hardship are not just tolerable or permissible to a certain limited extent -- they're actually good and right.

So the next time you're genuinely upset over something terrible that has happened to you or someone you love, and somebody comes up to you and chirps, "Oh, well, praise the Lord anyhow!" You should feel free to punch them in the face** hand them the book of Lamentations.


--
* Actually, I keep thinking there has to be a YA novel in there somewhere, because God called Jeremiah to be a prophet when he was just a young teenager. I'll keep you posted if I ever figure the plot of that one out.

** See, that's why I usually talk myself out of writing serious blog posts without spending a week editing them first.

*** No belittlement is meant by the use of this term, believe me; I would gladly have used "Tanakh" instead except that some of my non-Jewish readers wouldn't have understood what I mean by it.

Comments

[anywherebeyond.livejournal.com]

I don't have anything useful to add, just commenting to say I really enjoy these posts, and to thank you for sharing!

[newport2newport.livejournal.com]

Amen, and me too!

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Melodye! I always appreciate your posts as well.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Thanks, BB! Sometimes I wonder who I am writing for/to and who is likely to read, so it's good to know!

[sollersuk.livejournal.com]

Here in the UK (and mostly CofE) I've never had a reaction like that. It's probably a cultural thing. When I was involved in a documentary recently and the subject of my husband's death twenty years ago came up, it was taken for granted that I would still, at some level, be grieving.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

I think it is largely influenced by culture, yes. I think the attitude that grieving intensely or for a long time is somehow sinful is more of a North American thing -- but it's amazingly prevalent in certain areas and subcultures.

Thanks for your input, that's very interesting.

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

It's the Puritan Ethic combining with a few other more modern trends, I suspect.

[patty1943.livejournal.com]

I agree completely. I had a small article in the Post-Traumatic Gazette (A newsletter I used to write) called Approaching Trauma Survivors from a Spiritual Perspective. you can read it online at http://www.vietnamveteranministers.org/spinaris.htm.
Caterina Spinaris gave me and the Vietnam Veteran Ministers website permission to use it. They themselves do spiritual workshops for Vets and point out the large number of evidences of the costs of war in the Bible. My favorite is the 137th Psalm, which is a description of how truama survivors feel (angry, can't forget, can't be happy) and how they are treated by idiots (sing us a song!). I think this applies to any kind of loss. Cheering people up is an insult. We were given our emotions for a reason, or evolved them. Actually, many of us believe that PTSD is the result of the inability to heal because of societal prohibitions against feeling bad or mourning for more than about 20 minutes. Not over it yet, take this pill...
One of my pet peeves: feeling bad is ILLEGAL in America. One of my other articles was called "Grief: Illegal? Immoral? or a part of life?"

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's an excellent article! And so needed. So many well-meaning people end up exploiting the grief of others in an effort to get across their Message.

And that's very interesting about PTSD -- I wouldn't be surprised if there's a lot of truth to that. I touch on the subject of dealing with negative emotions and the aftermath of trauma in my latest WiP, but there's so much more that could be said.

[olmue.livejournal.com]

This is a great post. I think you're right, religious people sometimes do feel guilty for grief because it's like you don't have enough faith to see things through, to trust that God knows what He's doing. In contrast to that I've always particularly liked the part where Jesus went to his friends' house and found that Lazarus had already died. And instead of being all happy! because Lazarus had gone to a better place, he sat down and cried. Grief and faith are not mutually exclusive.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Right -- there's the fear that grief and faith are somehow incompatible, and that true faith can only be expressed by keeping an inhumanly sunny and optimistic attitude all the time. If Christ Himself didn't do that, where do we get the idea that we should?

[newport2newport.livejournal.com]

Hmmm, I've been pondering this question since you first posted this entry. I'm wondering if the idea is somehow connected to prosperity theology, which suggests that "success" is granted to those who live according to God's wishes. By extension, this argument suggests that poverty (of pocketbook, of health, of spirit...) are the earthly manifestations of a life beyond God's favor. I don't agree with this doctrine, but I've certainly heard it preached in similar circumstances.

Preemptive disclaimer: I realize I'm oversimplifying things. And I probably shouldn't be typing this in a pre-caffeinated state. But I'll brave the flames by throwing it out there, knowing already that I'll learn from other people's feedback.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

You won't get any flames from me! I think that this is a case where the "prosperity gospel" has spread even further than many of us realize. It is so easy to fall prey to the notion that God's children will naturally be happy, healthy, wealthy, and protected from all serious harm and pain, and that if we're missing one of those elements in our lives then we must be doing something wrong. So then we can end up pretending that we're all of those things "good Christians" ought to be, and all the while we're dying inside.

And it's all so unlike the kind of dealings God really has with people in the Bible, and the kinds of lives even the great "heroes of faith" like Abraham and David actually led. So many ups and downs, sins and failures, discouragements and challenges -- and yet God's grace was there through it all.

[izhilzha.livejournal.com]

Well, I know I've heard other people make this particular oversimplification, so you are in good company, at least. :) I would think that the so-called prosperity gospel relates to this topic mostly in the sense that Job's friends use it: if you're suffering, it must be for your sins; if you're in good with God, He'll surely treat you well.

More pastors should preach the book of Job. It might help.

I do think there's more to it than just this, that the fear about grief and faith being incompatible goes deeper than that. I'm not sure why, and am thinking about it.

I will add that very few people can separate out the need to not "complain" and realizing when they're in a situation where grief and struggle are okay. Example: I've been out of work for a year and a half. I've gotten from others and from myself that this is really not such a bad thing, and that I should be grateful for what I have rather than distressed in spirit, begging God to do something for me, telling Him what a horrible place in life I'm at. It's not really the prosperity gospel, per se, it's more a sense that if I'm right with God, surely I should be able to handle with grace anything that life throws at me, rather than wearing down and finding myself unable to completely cope.

But that's not what's been happening. Not to make light of God's provision, but most of the time it has felt like He's not bothering to give me even the basic emotional support that I need to continue in His grace. And that's something I am not comfortable telling people very often; because that sounds like I've stopped trusting Him.

Tangent, I realize. But RJ's post is very truthful, and I wanted to drop this in.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Thank you for your honesty, I really appreciate it.

It's agonizing to be in the middle of a painful situation, especially one that goes on and on, and you're expecting (or at least hoping and praying for) a certain level or kind of peace and comfort and courage that never seems to come. Times when all you can do is groan, "How long, O Lord?", and where it's tempting to wonder if He's really there at all.

I remember such a situation in my own life a few years back, and at the time I simply couldn't see God's hand or purpose in it at all. It just hurt, period, and no amount of praying for grace and comfort and peace seemed to help. Frankly, it was scary, and if somebody had come along during that time and said to me, "God is teaching you a wonderful lesson through all this!" or words to that effect, I would probably have done them an injury.

I can look back now and see ways in which God was working during that time, and ways in which it has led to good things in my life that would not have happened otherwise, but it was completely impossible for me to see those things while I was going through it -- not because I was blind or willfully ignorant to God's hand in the situation, but because it was happening out of my view. At the time I could only be thankful that I survived it, not much more than that.

All of which is to say that trying to comfort someone who is going through that kind of dark valley can be very, very difficult and touchy, and there are many times when it's best not to try to offer any kind of advice or larger perspective on the matter at all. Which is hard for me because I'm all about fixing things or at least figuring out what needs fixing, and I feel horribly helpless and useless just listening to someone in pain without offering them any kind of solution to their problem. But often the listening is exactly, and only, what people need.

[izhilzha.livejournal.com]

Wow, you definitely have gone through something like what I am going through right now! About half of that could've been lifted verbatim from my private paper journal. :)

I can look back now and see ways in which God was working during that time, and ways in which it has led to good things in my life that would not have happened otherwise, but it was completely impossible for me to see those things while I was going through it -- not because I was blind or willfully ignorant to God's hand in the situation, but because it was happening out of my view.

*tears up* You are making me hopeful. I mean, my dad has been telling me tales of when this sort of thing happened to him, but his stories scare me a bit (he grew up in a very legalistic church, and God had to basically smash in his whole world in order to dig him out of all that baggage), and it's neat to hear it from someone else. Even though it's still scary, not being able to see what He's doing.

As for the listening thing, yes, yes, yes. I run Stephen Ministry at my church, and the biggest thing we have to teach our new ministers is what not to say (as in your funeral example) and how to hold their fix-it impulse in check to just really listen. It's amazing what God can do through us or around us when we allow ourselves to be present but get out of the way.

[sollersuk.livejournal.com]

I'm tempted to point "my daughter the theologian" this way. She's so firmly into Predestination that she sees such guilt as pointless; faith is outside our control, as is Grace, so there really isn't any point in worrying about it.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Interesting; I wonder why Christ reproached his disciples at times for having so little faith in Him, if it was beyond their control whether to have faith in Him or not.

Though perhaps you had better not ask her that. I'm not at all in the mood for a debate on predestination at the moment. :)

[sollersuk.livejournal.com]

Oh, I suspect she would say something about it being while for most purposes Christ was still apparently a fairly ordinary (a few miracles aside) human being.

And on predestination: she mentioned to me once that Calvin and his immediate followers got a horrendous reputation for hedonism, precisely because they didn't go round racked with guilt!

[labellerose.livejournal.com]

I think there may have been something to be said for the custom of 'mourning' when you wore certain clothes and were excused from certain activities. Yes it could be morbid-but it was a also a way for people to process their grief with the validation and support of their community, both spiritual and secular.
And I must agree that it's illegal to feel bad in certain parts of North America (*wry grin*)

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Re the abandoned custom of "mourning" -- undoubtedly some people in the past took the morbidity too far, but we've swung way over to the other side, it seems, and that's not healthy either. Good point.

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

We Jews still do it. But it's a progression: you sit shiva, remaining at home, sitting on a low stool, and other people visit and bring food and talk about the dead person for seven days. For a year you attend services and stand to recite Yahrzeit (blessing for the dead which never actually talks about the dead; it's more along the lines of "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord"). (More traditionally and among more observant, you attend services every day anyway; the difference then would just be whether you stand and recite that prayer. A level down in observance, you're likely to attend services more often than you normally would just to say Yahrzeit.) And then every year, you stand again to recite that prayer on the anniversary of the death.

I tend to think i's a very sane and sensible way to grieve and acknowledge grieving, myself. I felt a little more bereft for not being there to shit shiva after a recent family death, probably more than for not being there at the funeral. (But I had managed to visit the person just a couple months before he died, and talk to him a few days before, which were probably more important.)

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

I was going to mention sitting shiva as an example of a balanced and healthy approach to grieving, but then I forgot, so I'm glad you did so! Appreciate your contribution to the discussion.

[sollersuk.livejournal.com]

It does sound a very sensible and healthy approach, particularly the progression, but also the continuing acknowledgment.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Thank you for reading and commenting! I appreciate it.

[po-thang.livejournal.com]

Thank you for this post!

I remember going to calling hours years ago for my boss who had lost her grandmother. The grandmother, might I add, who had raised her from the time she was a little girl.

I remember that she was having a particularly hard time leaving at the end of the calling hours. She was having difficulty saying goodbye to the woman who had raised her and steadied her through some of the toughest times in her life.

I also remember a woman from her church telling her that she needed to let it go and think of her children. Children that were 17 and 19. I thought at the time that it was an incredibly insensitive thing to tell her. She hadn't even actually buried her grandmother yet and here this woman was already telling her that she needed to move on and let go of her grief.

You put into words better than I've ever been able to that her grief was something that God wouldn't frown on or find her lacking because of and neither should anyone else.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Ouch! That is harsh. I know a woman who was told at the funeral for her youngest child of twelve, who had died the week he was born, "Oh well, at least you have all those other children." And also, "You can always have another one."

I find myself reluctant to say ANYTHING to people at funerals, just for fear of coming out with something as awful and insensitive as that.

[po-thang.livejournal.com]

I had a friend who lost his father and everyone was telling him, "oh, I know how you feel, but he's in a better place." Note that *none* of them had lost a parent.

Yes, he was in a better place, but that doesn't lessen the sorrow of those left behind.

I'd lost my father before he lost his and I just said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Because, really, there are no words that can make things easier and it is so very possible to make them a lot worse simply by saying the wrong ting.

[sollersuk.livejournal.com]

When my cousin's daughter died I wrote to her saying that I really didn't have any words that seemed right, and she wrote back to say that it was the best letter she had had.

As for "better place", that isn't really the point. Certainly as far as I'm concerned, grief isn't so much about the person dying as the fact that they are missed. There is a hole in the world.

[po-thang.livejournal.com]

And as to those who told the woman those things after the death of her child. Didn't any of them realize how awful what they said sounded? I mean, come on!

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

I am frequently amazed at the things people think it is appropriate to say. Or maybe they just don't think, period.

[nuranar.livejournal.com]

How very interesting - good thoughts! Also apropos, since my father has been doing an Old Testament survey in Sunday School and we just began Jeremiah.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Jeremiah is totally in right now. I commented to a friend at my church that I'd been reading Jeremiah and he said, "Really? Because I'm studying Jeremiah right now too!"

Clearly there is Something In This, though I have no idea what it is. Maybe I am supposed to make it into a YA novel. :D

Thanks for your comment. My son would love your icon!

[nuranar.livejournal.com]

How crazy! Because Dad started this series three *years* ago, with Genesis. It took us seven weeks to get through Isaiah! :)

Tell your son we have good taste. ;)

Hmm

[(Anonymous)]

Very thought-provoking.

I wonder if sometimes we encourage others to get over grief as speedily as possible not so much because of any well thought-out conviction that it would be better for them, but because it's in our own interest to see our friend 'back to his/her old self'. Let's face it: It's uncomfortable to deal with someone who's grieving. It creates all kinds of difficult questions: How should I behave? What should I say? Is there anything I can do? (And often there isn't, which leaves us feeling impotent, frustrated and maybe undervalued). Suppose that our friend has been a frequent source of encouragement and cheer to us, is just plain entertaining, or the type of person who motivates us to get up and do things we wouldn't otherwise do -- and now all that has changed. We may desire to get him back to 'normal' for largely selfish reasons.

But sometimes there is no 'old self' to return to. Take the situation of a woman who's lost a child then been deserted by her husband in short order. Experiencing drastic losses can change one's personality and outlook permanently. This may not be entirely bad. Grieving can cause people to mature in ways the good times cannot. But as a friend looking on, we may say to ourselves, 'This is not the person I once knew'.

And then the question becomes what sort of friend we really are, doesn't it.

Re: Hmm

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Wow, well said. That's an excellent perspective on it, and rings very true. Thanks for weighing in, Pete.*

--
* For those wondering, anon commenter above is my brother, to whom Faery Rebels: Spell Hunter a.k.a. Knife is partially dedicated. And with good reason. ALTHOUGH I ALWAYS HAVE TO LOOK UP HIS IP ADDRESS BECAUSE HE NEVER SIGNS HIS POSTS, AHEM.)

[peanut13171.livejournal.com]

Excellent post and a good reminder for me. Especially this:

"I'm all about fixing things or at least figuring out what needs fixing, and I feel horribly helpless and useless just listening to someone in pain without offering them any kind of solution to their problem. But often the listening is exactly, and only, what people need."

In (small) defense of those people who say ghastly things at funerals, it could just be that they don't know what they're saying. It's such a horrible loss, that sometimes the brain goes dead and the mouth goes on automatic pilot. You feel a need to fill the silence because silences are awkward, and out comes idiocy. I've been guilty of it (not at funerals, I hope!).

At funerals the only thing I mention are funny, kind, or positive memories about the person who died and that I'll miss them. Then I *try* to shut up.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Yep, it's that deadly need to say something that so often causes the problem... I like your rule of thumb for funerals. Thanks for weighing in.

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Excellent post. Thank you.

[scionofgrace.livejournal.com]

Amen and amen.

Another aspect, I think, is that it is possible to be joyful and sorrowful at the same time. In my outward sorrow, I can have a vein of joy, and in my outward joy, I can have a vein of sorrow. Because the only proper response to the sin and suffering in the world is lamentation, and those things are all around us.

I believe that sorrow and joy should coexist.

[tartanshell.livejournal.com]

This is a beautiful (and timely, for me to read) post. Thank you for writing it.

I'll admit that I'm guilty of doing the "my heart is breaking about something; but thank God for all of these other blessings and all of the goodness in my life!" thing. For me, personally, that's less feeling like grief is sinful or bad or something I shouldn't be doing (especially when everyone and their uncle seems to be telling me I should), and more about trying to keep myself out of the abyss and to remind myself that God does love me. Because it's easy, when bad things happen, to go to a "Why does God hate me? Why is God doing this to me? Why are God's decisions unfair?" place.

I think some of this attitude has to do with submission and surrender, too. In a way, grief can seem like you're fighting something bad that has happened to you--with denial, with anger, with intense sorrow and not wanting it to be true. When something truly horrible happens, it's natural to hate that it happened, I think. And I guess trying to move past the ugly stages of it quickly and get to acceptance sometimes seems like the "correct" thing to do--to submit, and accept, and trust that God is right. Though truly doing so is extraordinarily hard, and maybe even impossible if you don't properly grieve.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Certainly no one can (or should) tell you how to grieve, and it's not unbiblical to have the attitude that you've taken either -- I think of Job in the first stage of his sufferings saying "The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord," for instance.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this. I'm glad the post meant something to you.

[infiniteviking]

..............

A powerful message and one that needs to be heard.

Thank you.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you found it creatively inspiring!

[izhilzha.livejournal.com]

I officially love you for making this icon.

[robynslp.livejournal.com]

I know I'm late in coming to this blog entry. I found it while searching for how to fight grief. I think I also added "when faith is lost." This entry has spoken volumes to me today. I lost my first son nearly 7 years ago and as the anniversary approaches I find myself hiding from life - especially other people. I don't want to be told platitudes. I want to be allowed my grief. I find going to church a particularly difficult. I appreciate the insight you have given about grief from a biblical sense. Thank you for your entry.

[rj-anderson.livejournal.com]

I am very sorry to hear about the loss of your son. Time changes grief but it can never erase it fully. I'm glad this post was of some little comfort to you, and thank you for sharing your thoughts here.