“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”   Matthew 5:4

As a pastor I have the opportunity to visit quite a few people in their homes. As an amateur sewer, my eye tends to be drawn to places of beauty in homes that can so often be overlooked – wall samplers. These framed masterpieces usually present a piece of scripture such as the Lord’s Prayer, Joshua 24:15, or the 23rd Psalm. What I would like to see more wall hangings of, however, are the Beatitudes, and specifically Jesus’s words found in Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Churches tend to do well with acute grief – the time of mourning that follows the death of a loved one. The congregation rallies around those in grief, providing meal-trains, cards, and phone calls. What churches, and frankly most people, struggle within the ongoing grief. The grief that lasts well beyond the end of the bereavement leave or funeral service. The grief that is still present year after year, shifting in shape and weight, but still present. 

This is the type of grief that well-meaning church folks will try to diminish, telling people that they are to be filled with the joy of the Lord or that the person needs to move on. Thinking back to times of profound grief in my life, it has been this tender in-between time that has brought some of the most (unintentional) cruel comments from church folks about heaven needing another angel, my loved on being in a better place, or that God wants me to be happy with the time we had together. 

Church, we can do better. 

Church, we must do better. 

When Jesus is speaking in the Sermon on the Mount about the blessings that are a reversal of the ways of the world, he knows that people throughout the ages have been uncomfortable with grief. The world seems to move on at a dizzying pace, while the person in grief needs the world to stop and people to come and simply be with them. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Well known amongst the Jewish community would be the story of Job that begs to ask why some people suffer and what God’s idea of comforting anyone is or should be? Who really wants to mourn? Especially when you only mourn when you lose something or someone truly dear to your heart. Is the payoff of being comforted really worth the pain of that which caused you to mourn?

Mourning means that we are vulnerable. Often when we think about grief or mourning it is over someone we have loved and lost. Sometimes by death. Sometimes they simply walk out of our lives. Sometimes relationships are damaged beyond repair. And so, the vulnerability of love means that those who deeply love, often deeply grieve. But does that mean that we shouldn’t love? By no means! In the vulnerability of love, we find life. We find connection. We find meaning. 

Nothing is more heart wrenching than loss. The loss of someone who dear to us. The loss of a job. The loss of an opportunity that we were counting on. And with loss comes mourning. As much as we would like to pretend otherwise, no one is immune from grief. Mourning with flesh on it, looks different for each of us, but we still mourn. 

So,what is the response of the church? How can we be a blessing of comfort to those who mourn?

• Show up. Showing up can mean something different to each person. I generally ask a family if they would like me to come right away or if they need some time alone as a family first. But show up and keep showing up.
• Have a way to acknowledge that holidays may be difficult. I send out snowflake ornaments around the winter holidays with a quote from the book Grief is Like a Snowflake, but maybe you have something else that you can send out that is a tangible reminder that you are thinking about the person in the midst of their grief.
• Keep calling. This allows you to be present and attentive when their grief comes in waves. 

This is just the starting place, church. But this is our time to step up and truly be the church – the body of Christ with flesh on it for each other in a way that shows deep compassion. 

What difference could it make to even one person if we bring comfort to those who mourn?