In 1861, Prince Albert – the husband of Queen Victoria – died suddenly from typhoid fever. That marriage is generally thought of as having been a happy one – perhaps the happiest royal marriage in history. Not surprisingly, therefore, Victoria was devastated by her beloved husband's death. She entered into a state of mourning from which in some ways she never really emerged. For the remaining 40 years of her life, Victoria wore black and avoided as best she could public appearences – rarely even setting foot in London. Her excessive grief earned her the nickname “The Widow Of Windsor.”  The level of grief she displayed is what we might call a lament for her beloved late husband, and I wonder - do we make room in our society for lament anymore? In Victoria's day, her display of grief made the monarchy somewhat unpopular and resulted in the rise of a republican movement. Would we be more patient in similar circumstances? The dictionary defines lament as “a passionate expression of grief,” and Victoria's feelings and actions after Albert's death certainly seem to qualify. And the truth is that we probably don't make room in our society for that type of lament anymore. Instead, modern society seeks quick fixes to problems. When we see someone who seems to be lost in lament our automatic assumption is that something's wrong with them and we send them off to a therapist or a counsellor to “get over it.” But I wonder whether that's not simply a knee-jerk reaction to get rid of something that makes us uncomfortable? Are passionate expressions of negative emotions simply something that we would prefer not to have to deal with? Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, in a 1969 book called “On Death And Dying,” outlined what she called the 5 stages of grief. The final stage is “acceptance.” In other words, we finally have to come to the conclusion that “this has happened, so now we have to move on.” We believe that there's something wrong with the person who can't move on. I understand that. I want all people to be able to live with the joy and abundance that Jesus wanted them to have, but I do today want to make an argument in favour of lamentation, as opposed to simple grief. I want to argue a bit with the dictionary. I want to suggest that from a biblical perspective, lamentation and grief are two different things and I want to suggest that while our Christian faith helps us to move beyond grief, our Christian faith should move us at the same time to embrace the concept of lamentation.

 

     Grief is something we must emerge from eventually. It's something that we have to emerge from because grief takes away from us the ability to be what God wants us to be. Grief makes us turn inward and it saps away our ability to rejoice in what God has given us. So lost in our own pain does it cause us to become that it can make us blind to the suffering of others. Grief is both natural and necessary but it isn't – or it shouldn't be – a permanent condition. Queen Victoria should not be our role model on this subject! Lamentation, though, is different. Lamentation is and should be an ongoing process. Lamentation is something that we focus outwardly. Lamentation is something we feel for the world. Lamentation is caused by our recognition that there is suffering in the world – and that there is suffering within the Body of Christ – and lamentation is a reminder to us that not only can we not become inward looking, it's a reminder to us that we must be outward looking – aware of the problems of our society and standing with those who suffer as a result of those problems.

 

     Today is called “World Wide Communion Sunday.” It's a day when the various denominations of the Christian family are encouraged to join together as one in celebrating Holy Communion. Part of our problem with lament is that we've forgotten (or chosen to ignore) what Holy Communion is about. If nothing else, Holy Communion reminds us that Jesus is the One who suffered for the suffering. The sacrament we participate in today is a day of remembrance – and could even be considered a day of lament. In his words explaining Holy Communion to the church at Corinth, Paul reminded those Christians that the purpose of Communion was “to proclaim the Lord's death until He comes.” Today, we're lamenting not just “the Lord's death” but the conditions that caused “the Lord's death” and that made “the Lord's death” inevitable: the reality of sin and evil in the world and the insistence of what Paul described as “the principalities and powers” - those forces that actively resist God and that participate in and even inspire the sin and evil of the world. Those “principalities and powers” Paul wrote of aren't flesh and blood. They're spiritual forces – they're the demons (if you will) that can so easily possess the minds, the hearts, the bodies and the spirits of people: demons such as greed, hatred, violence, racism, sexism, homophobia, religious fanaticism – any mindset, action or ideology that fails to honour the dignity of those whom God has created in His image. Jesus sought to give dignity to those whom the “principalities and powers” had declared unworthy of dignity. He ate with so-called sinners; He sat with prostitutes; He reached out to Samaritans; He showed compassion to an adulterous woman. To so many whom the “principalities and powers” declared unworthy of dignity Jesus showed dignity. Today we remember that the life which was so cruelly put to death on a cross was devoted to doing battle against those very same “principalities and powers.” When Jesus Himself, at what we now call “The Last Supper,” spoke to His disciples about the symbolism involved in that meal, He asked them to continue to commemorate the sharing of the bread and wine not for its own sake, but rather to remember Him in the midst of it. “Do this in remembrance of Me” were Christ's words. This wasn't an act of self-aggrandizement. When He asked His disciples to remember Him, He was referring to His ministry, His calling, His purpose and His work – He was asking us to stand with the outcast and the marginalized and the poor and the sick, and, indeed, to suffer with the suffering, in the same way that Christ suffered for the suffering.

 

     Those for whom Christ came, and those for whom Christ lived, and those for whom Christ suffered and those for whom Christ died are often the forgotten and overlooked and ignored. They're those we prefer not to engage with. They're those who are often the victims of ostracization, hatred and violence. They're those we as Christ's followers are called to shower love and acceptance and dignity upon. We often speak of salvation in individual terms. We know and celebrate that “Christ died for me” or that “Christ died for us” but perhaps we fail to remember that “Christ died for all” and that part of the calling contained within the words “Remember Me” is to remember all those for whom Christ would make a place at this table today. As I opened my remarks this morning I asked the question: “do we have room in our society for lament anymore?” I wonder if we have room in our church for lament anymore. Lament is hard because it forces us to confront those things we'd rather ignore.  Lament is hard because it forces us to confront feelings that we'd rather bury. Lament is hard because it forces us to confront a reality that we'd rather not acknowledge. Today is World Wide Communion Sunday. Today we stand in solidarity with all our brothers and sisters in Christ in the far flung corners of the world – including those corners where being a Christian isn't that easy. But that's today. Today we stand with and lament for a church that suffers in many places and in many ways, but every day we're called to stand with and lament for all those in our society who suffer – Christian or not. Jeremiah felt the pain of the people of Jerusalem and Judah after their defeat and exile: “Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are upon her cheeks. Among all her lovers there is none to comfort her. All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies.” How many today feel betrayed by those they have every right to believe should be standing with them? How many today feel betrayed by a church that they have every right to expect should be standing with them?

 

     Today's text calls us to lament for a people who have lost their cities, their livelihood, their connections, their homeland, and the center of their religious and cultural life - the temple in Jerusalem. There's no pulling of punches against God, against themselves or against others. But let's not use an ancient writing to allow us to become lost in the past as if the message of the text has no relevance today. Let's instead allow the text to push us to ask where there might be losses that are going ungrieved or unhonoured in our hearts, in our families, in our neighborhoods, in our congregation, in our city, in our region, in our nation - anywhere in God's world. God calls us to shape a better world than what exists. Holy Communion is a call to inner reflection but also to outward action. God calls us to remember Jesus today – and I daresay also to remember all those for whom Jesus gave Himself. God calls us to lament for the suffering and oppressed and marginalized, for lamentation means awareness and awareness spurs us to action.