Though not otherwise addressed in this week’s newsletter, if you are looking for resources on talking about gun violence, you can find a permanent version of a previous message on the topic here.
Dear Friends,
Over the last few years of work with the Godly Play Foundation, I’ve learned a lot about the experiences of non-liturgical churches. And, as someone who has always attended liturgical churches but, like most of us, was not well-formed about what that actually meant, I have also as an adult had the great privilege of showing other adults in my own congregations just how well and simply some of these ideas can be taught by Godly Play. I do it all the time, ushering adults over to show them the Circle of the Church Year, pointing out the color-coded elements of our room. Speaking about the rhythms of our classroom practices.
Sometimes, the difference between a traditionally liturgical congregation and one that isn’t can seem narrow. Other times the chasm echoes.
Still, when I say I wasn’t well-formed in regard to the liturgical nature of my community’s worship life growing up, I quickly realize that this was both true and false. Certain moments in the year stand out, bright marks in my memory. Lighting the candles at Advent, and the shift into Christmas. Solemn evening worship during the week in Lent. And the reading of the necrology and lighting of candles on All Saints Day each autumn.
Do This In Remembrance Of Me
In proper timing for the All Hallowstide triduum (which I wrote a bit about last year here), I was sorting through a box of newspapers this past weekend that contained memorials of three different things: the first U.S. moon landing, the initial invasion of Operation Desert Storm, and my maternal grandfather’s death. I was obviously not alive for the first and am not old enough to remember the second, but I was fourteen when my grandfather died. He was an unusually character, such that sometimes when I tell stories about him, other people think he was perhaps an unpleasant person. He had snarky nicknames for everyone, was known to hang my stuffed animals from a grate in the ceiling, and would affectionately tell me to go play in traffic.
I tossed all of the papers in the recycling.
The local newspaper obituary largely penned by my mother, his youngest child, is not how I remember him. I think about him often and I know that his death almost twenty years ago has shaped my life in unexpected ways. At minimum, it shapes the conversations I have with my grandmother, as her memory slips away. But every time I encounter a major life transition, I tune my attention for sparks of silver. My grandfather, we always say, shows up for us as dimes. A dime in the driveway of a new apartment or in the hotel couch on my wedding day.
We all have ways of remembering. All Saints and All Souls are part of that, and it’s no surprise that we have special days for remembrance in the Church because the core of our weekly worship is an act of remembrance. As we gather at the altar each week, the priest pronounces those important words: Do This In Remembrance Of Me.
What, though, are we remembering?
The simple answer is, all of it - His Life, Death, & Resurrection. One is not more essential to remember than the others. All of it matters. All of it changed everything.
In thinking of this, the Frederick Buechner quote comes to mind: “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing”, and it’s not that that isn’t true – in some ways, it describes the entirety of our lives. The last thing is his coming again in glory. It is our collective redemption, joined together in eternal life on high. The worst thing isn’t the last thing. But that doesn’t mean the worst thing isn’t still terrible.
Allowing Lament
Here is an invitation to pause. How are you feeling right now?
It’s okay if you don’t know or if you feel a few different ways at once. Anything you feel right now is okay. As I found myself teaching some of my older church school students a few weeks ago, anything you have felt is described in the Psalms. And some of those feelings are easier for us to talk about than others. Sometimes it helps to have someone else’s words. We pray the prayer that Jesus taught us. Why would we not, when faced with troubles, cry out in the words of the Bible?
Of course, it’s not just the Psalms that offer lamentations. We do, after all, have an entire book of the Bible by that name, and it’s in many other parts of the text as well. What happens when we lean on some of that language? Our Bible App shared six excellent examples over on Instagram. Read them. Try them out in different translations of the Bible for yourself or with older children and teens. Rewrite them in your own words or together. I wonder what made these Biblical writers feel these ways?
Need simpler language? Perhaps it’s time to visit with sadness, maybe with help from a story like When Sadness Is At Your Door by Eva Eland. This is a good way of confronting sadness or other difficult feelings with younger children, but also to process happiness or excitement if your young (or not so young) one struggles with emotional regulation – it’s certainly one of my biggest struggles. Eland’s vision of Sadness, a blobby, light blue creature, is charming, but what does sadness look like to you? Invite the sadness to snuggle up with a soft blanket with you or to share some hot chocolate. Introduce sadness to your favorite stuffed animal. When we take care of our sadness, we take care of ourselves.
What else is helping you hold your emotions – about violence and conflict, about the memory of loss as we approach All Saints? Who are you remembering? And how do they show up in your life?
My grandfather is dimes. I’m not sure what my friend Brandon, who died this spring, is, although every bit of reporting on the next Olympic games makes me think of him. Mona, a friend from my teens, shows up in images of elephants.
A Brief All Saints Resource Round-Up
In terms of formation, I think there are a lot of ways to really like All Saints. It’s a beautiful opportunity for both emotional reflection and intellectual exploration.
Illustrated Ministry is offering a sample of their new Youth materials for All Saints. It’s always exciting to have new offerings from a trusted source!
We’ve been here before: it’s hard to talk about death! But All Saints is an opportunity to open those conversations when they aren’t feeling especially fragile or sensitive. You might consider Lacy Finn Borgo’s “All Will Be Well” (bonus: you also get to introduce children to Julian of Norwich! and there are free supplemental materials on the IVP website) or explore how children from regions that celebrate the Day of the Dead recall their lost loved ones with “Felipa and the Day of the Dead” by Birte Muller.
Get out the calendar! Or maybe next year’s calendar since it’s almost November. Then consult a calendar of Saints, a book like Lesser Feasts and Fasts, or another relevant liturgical resource. Depending on how broadly you want to think, you may even just start by looking up “famous” people you share a birthday with. What do we remember these people for? Episcopal Church-wise I share my birthday with the feast of Harriet Monsell, an 19th century monastic, but I’d also be happy to spend some time in remembrance of Sandra Day O’Connor, who I share an actual birthday with. Feminist jurisprudence is a pretty great legacy to reflect on. Looking up saints or saint-adjacent figures can reveal so many interesting things!
Explore Memorials. Does your church have a memorial garden or cemetery? Is there an interesting historical memorial in your town? Where does your family create memorials? Do you have one for pets or are there benches in a local park given as memorials? We remember the dead, as church communities, as families, and as neighborhoods and individuals, in shared and public and unique and unusual ways all at the same time.
I was recently talking to a colleague about the both/and that so many experiences hold, and Godly Play really loves that dialectic. And so I leave you with this wisdom from the inimitable poet of joy Ross Gay:
Joy and grief can stand side by side. Sadness and delight can occupy the same house. Invite them all in. Remember the dead, in mourning and with fondness. Lament. Rejoice. Do this in remembrance…
Peace,
Bird