From Bereft to Befriended

Are you awake to the grief in our midst that is begging for spiritual companionship? November is often referred to as a “thin time” and “thin place.” As we experience All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and El Dia de los Muertos, many believe our ancestors are particularly near; the veil between heaven and earth is thin. With the wisdom of the saints closely at hand, what beckons soul tending in your neighborhood? How might our spiritual ancestors lend us courage to be present to suffering?

On All Saints Day, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I stood in awe on the edge of two abysses of grief in New York. One abyss is the 9/11 World Trade Center Memorial: a living reminder of the past. The other abyss is the encampment of the Occupy Wall Street movement: a living reminder of present injustice. Both experiences engaged me with the pain of bereavement and the unexpected way that grief leads to openness for spiritual friendship.

9/11 World Trade Center Memorial

Like a giant coffin within a coffin, the 9/11 Memorial consists of two reflective pools cut deep into the earth in the same place the towers once stood. Thin streams of water fall down the interior walls of the giant upper coffin, draining into a lower coffin where the waterfall descends into a chasm. Nearly 3,000 names of the men, women, and children killed in the attacks of September 11, 2001 and February 26, 1993 are inscribed in bronze on parapets surrounding the twin memorial pools. The black walls of names keep visitors from being physically swept into the deep hole. However, the fluid sounds, the movement of rushing water, and the gentle mist rising amid the names invite visitors to be emotionally swept into the abyss of grief and mystery that Robert Frost writes about in his poem, “Bereft”:

Where had I heard this wind before

Change like this to a deeper roar?

… I was in my life alone,

Word I had no one left but God.

As I touched the names of people, my tears joined tears of thousands who have come to experience the deep roar of the 9/11 Memorial. Yet, a surprising peace came when I photographed three chairs to offer you a picture of my experience of God’s presence amid the dark side of humanity. Many people approached me wanting to learn more about the three chairs. As I explained the role of a sacred presence in the third chair, people talked about their spiritual understanding of the memorial. The memorial creates a place for befriending strangers and facilitates sharing stories of grief. Certainly this is what bereavement groups offer. There at the 9/11 Memorial, God’s healing presence was palpable.

Occupy Wall Street

After visiting the 9/11 Memorial, I spent a couple of hours listening to the concerns of the Occupy Wall Street protesters. Anguishing stories of job loss, anxiety about the environment, and worry about the lack of basic health care emerged. I witnessed grief in its raw, messy form, as people gave voice to their disgust and distrust in global systems that are not caring for our most vulnerable beings.

Listening to the protesters, especially the father of the young girl pictured here, made me appreciate anew the gift of being a spiritual director. On God’s behalf, we are called to listen to the grief-stricken and patiently wait for the mysteriously healing work of befriending strangers in grief. We are not alone in our search for justice and peace. We are not alone in seeking truth. We are not alone in our grief.

For those who have eyes to see, a spiritual hub of contemplative presence exists in Zuccotti Park. Next to the drummers, who rhythmically energize the peaceful-yet-chaotic protest scene, blankets on benches and a “chill out” chair encircle a tree. A simple altar with prayer and meditation beads, stones, and images from many spiritual traditions leans up against the tree trunk. People from many spiritual traditions and none sit in silence, around the tree that provides a place for reflection. I joined the contemplative circle to offer spiritual support with you, dear members, on behalf of people in grief everywhere. With deep gratitude, I bow to you for your spiritual care of our planet during these tumultuous times. Thank you.

Reflection:

How has grief led you to new ways of understanding spiritual presence in our evolving world? Who are the saintly strangers you’ve befriended lately?