Mary and Martha
Most of the time it seems that we, as a whole, are able to experience life in the way we prefer...in the living. Normal everyday life revolves around the daily give and take of routine, and most of the time, people don't make it through a day without hearing about or participating in a circumstance of joy, either for themselves or for those around them. We live for these moments, and it makes everyday life perfect.
And if we're lucky, when the time comes to say goodbye to those we love, we hope it's only because they've lived a long and fulfilling life. And though it's sad to say goodbye, it seems more of a natural progression, the next normal step in the process of life.
But for the city in which I live, we're grieving. We're saying goodbye to a man who didn't fit into that normal progression. 45 years and 1 day isn't normal by any standard, and because this particular person was so well loved by many, his early departure felt just so...unnatural.
The news of his death saturated social media and the school where I teach. I've taught five of his children with the youngest yet to be in elementary school. Such an outpouring of love drenched his family members in so many different forms, that it was overwhelming to witness.
While running errands on Saturday I realized that I was running a bit late if I were to make it in time for the 5:00 Mass, the one I attend. I put myself into high gear and hustled to make sure I wouldn't be late. After the emotional week I had experienced, I wasn't about to miss Mass...I needed God. I needed to hear my priest speak once again how God works. I know the answers, and I've heard them many times before, but I needed to hear it again. I had been the 'adult' all week, the one with the answers for the little people who didn't understand, but it was my turn to be the child, to be the one with questions who was looking for answers.
My pastor spoke to a hungry parish. He spoke to the weeping and the devastated. He was calm and stoic even though he knew that many were wondering how this continues to happen. In a world of modern medicine, how can this still happen? And more importantly, why does God let this happen.
His words were ones that I had heard before, but needed again. God takes us from despair to hope...from death to life. If we believe...really believe...then we know without a doubt that our loved ones, no matter how untimely their death, live on with God. I have to find consolation in that...that my loved ones live on. He went on to discuss the reading, the one about Lazarus' death, and our ability to classify ourselves into two types of grievers; like those of Lazarus' sisters, Mary and Martha. They both grieved for their brother, yet in very different ways. Martha left her house and met Jesus on the road, questioning him of his delay, visibly upset with Him, while Mary remained at home and wept. When I heard this, it occurred to me that there is probably both Martha and Mary in all of us...like necessary stages of grief. When death comes too early, we're upset, we're angry, and we lash out, often times at God! And other times, we weep in the confinement of our own homes...alone. My pastor was still talking while I was thinking about this man and those grieving for him, but I did catch his final message. Jesus said to Martha and Mary, "Whoever believes in me, Jesus Christ, receives spiritual life that even physical death can never take away."
It's been tough to imagine and think about this man's family, but has my silver learned? Does it help knowing what Jesus said? Some. Does it still hurt? Yes. Will his family continue to hurt, cry out and crave him? Yes. But has their loved one received spiritual life that even his physical death can never take away? Yes. He was a spiritual man. He loved God, brought his children to God and taught them to believe. So while we pick up the slack and play the role of both Mary and Martha, we'll continue to surround his family with love and support, while praying for the gift of peace.