Dear Friends,
Presbyterian pastor Randall Tremba writes about two “failed” attempts at performing last rites at the deathbed—in both cases, the dying persons persisted in getting better and living for another number of healthy years. Another time, he offered anointing with oil to a gentleman who pronounced himself completely healed, and died the next day. Of course, as Tremba points out, the man wasn’t wrong; dying is the ultimate healing when we make our transition to eternity in Christ. Reflecting on how pastors are called into the most intimate, raw and vulnerable times in people’s lives, not always knowing whether we have the right thing to say, Rev. Tremba says:
I learned that it’s not what we say, do, think or wear that matters in the end. What matters is showing up—just being there. We hold each other’s hand as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. For you see, none of us can get around that valley. We must all go through and most of us more than once. And the best way through is with another. We show up. We hold each other’s hand. We are there. (source)
I remember being asked to attend a family at the bedside of a sick relative, and through tears, was asked deep, existential questions about the nature of God, suffering, and eternity, and I did my best to offer comfort. But I knew that no matter what I said, their grief would not be assuaged in that moment. Faith in God doesn’t keep us from weeping when we go through loss. As I held the crying loved one, I thought of that old jazz song:
I can’t give you anything but love, baby. That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby…
Gee, I’d like to see you looking swell, baby—
But diamond bracelets Woolworth doesn’t sell, baby.
‘Till that lucky day you know darn well, baby,
I can’t give you anything but love. (Jimmy McHugh & Dorothy Fields)
But the Good News is, that’s enough. And it’s not just the purview of ministers, but a calling and privilege that we all share. Through Christ we have an unlimited supply of love, and access to the grace that brings healing answers in the midst of pain. And if old jazz standards aren’t your style, try Lennon-McCartney: I want to hold your hand.
Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Romans 12:15
For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. Matthew 18:20
Love and light,
Martin
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