Monday, August 13, 2018

Publically shared grief

 I have become (and so have people who won't admit it) a connoisseur of "makeshift memorials" -- those agglomerations of flowers, candles, cards, posters, teddy bears and balloons that appear after mass destruction even before the TV anchors board their aircraft to report, in the days and weeks to come, from the site where the news has already happened.
 The Brits are weak on balloons, and the French are hopeless on teddy bears. You must have bears, or your mourning is dreary.
 The reaction is not the result of my cold-heartedness, but an outlet for the anger and frustration that comes from knowing that the candles will still be usable, and not all of the posters will be water-logged when it happens again. I don't feel a need to judge makeshift memorials when they respond to  real acts of God -- only the ones that are triggered, fueled or solely the result of human arrogance and ignorance.
 There has been a school shooting. There is a makeshift memorial. There will be another school shooting. There will be another makeshift memorial. A cop feels threatened and shoots an unarmed black man who is running away. A memorial ensues. Repeat. Repeat again.  Could more candles and flowers have prevented the second time?  The third time? No. Reasonable gun laws and learning to recognize humanity (start by not closing ports to refugees nor bureaucratically kidnapping their children) might at least reduce the numbers of times. But not the candles-and-flowers routine. That's no better than presidential "hearts and prayers."
 It turns out, people have been thinking non-despairingly about the subject. Lizette Larson provided a tour d' horizon of their thinking Friday at Pray Tell. There is even, I learn,  a new academic field of disaster studies, centered in the Netherlands.
 
  Larson points out the obvious -- that the displays along the nearest fence or in the middle of the closest traffic circles are liturgical events in Western society that turned its back on liturgy as long ago as the Enlightenment:
 The Dutch conversation has helped shape important discussion surrounding the larger question of ‘what is the purpose of these rituals’? Whether from a theological perspective on what impact prayer has, why religious leaders are considered ritual experts, and what happens when we corporately remember and unmask the past; or from a therapeutic perspective, asking if rituals are an efficacious way of handling grief and processing of trauma; or from a cultural perspective asking if these public gatherings meet a desire for a positive mass of people to validate the experience or fill in the spiritual first-aid needed in a post-church world, disaster studies combine the insights of a number of disciplines to give us new perspectives and insights.
 The makeshift memorial liturgies are performed in the public square, and the Church has been diffident about butting in or risking involvement in something outside its book of rituals. But that is where there is a lot of theological, therapeutic and cultural action these days. There is no sense pretending the action will stop soon.
  Giving the matter of community response more serious thought will not eliminate my need to vent when the unspeakable becomes news again. But thought and study are a far better response than marinading oneself in cynicism.

25 comments:

  1. I don't know when the little roadside memorials at the site of a fatal car accident started to be a thing. I don't remember them in my youth, but now they are commonplace. I used to think they were tacky, but have gradually changed my view of them. Technically they're illegal, but usually the dept.of roads and the highway patrol leave them alone if they're not obstructing the view or distracting. I think what changed my mind about them is their perseverance. Some of the accidents happened years ago, but someone still tends them, tidying up and putting new fake flowers out. Maybe a needed reminder that grief is persistent. Life goes on, but in one sense, for someone, it is stuck in that moment. I always say a prayer when I pass one of those shrines; for the deceased and the person who tends the spot.
    Five years ago there was a tragedy; the 22 year old wife of a coworker was killed in an accident caused by a fourth offense drunk driver (yeah, you read that right). They had been married less than 6 months. I went to her closed casket visitation; she is buried in a country Lutheran cemetery near here. But every time we go down that stretch of road, I see that little memorial. I don't think it is her husband that keeps it up. I think it is her parents.

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    1. If that last sentence sounds like I am dissing the husband, that is not the case. I just am seeing them handling grief in different ways.

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    2. In Florida, the state itself erects a maybe 3-foot pole with a round (non denominational) top with the name and date of the accident victim. I pass at least four of these between home and church, less than two miles away. Three are on a straight stretch of road where you almost have to be drunk and speeding to be in an accident, and there are usually a lot of drivers on that stretch who are both, can't think why. Seems to me getting them into the slammer would be more useful than erecting markers for their victims.

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    3. Just for the record, that four times drunk driver is now serving a 20-year-minimum stretch in the state penn. Too bad it didn't happen sooner.

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  2. Thanks Tom..I too shudder at the photos and TV displays of balloons and teddy bears. My marinade seems to be skepticism more than cynicism, but maybe there kissing cousins.

    The article on "Pray Tell," sums up thus: "What will we learn stepping outside the door of the church to the plaza, what will we bring back with us for our own Sunday morning gatherings? What will the liminal space of private and public, ecclesial and secular, teach us about responding in faith to help all people – those who are far off, and those who are near?"

    My spontaneous answer is "nothing," we will learn nothing. Am I hard-hearted or hard-headed in suspecting that those spontaneous "memorials" are political and policy statements springing from the cause of death: guns, traffic accidents, bombs, kidnappings, etc., and not a genuine remembrance of the person.

    The virtue of organized liturgies is their reflection on the human condition (with or without invoking God) and the pleasures and travails of the dead one in meeting that condition. Both cosmic and personal without the teddy bears.

    The Vietnam and 9/11 memorials may have greater standing as liturgical because they are genuinely public, remembering and honoring not only the dead but reminding us of human folly and frailty. [I add here that the real remembrance for me of 9/11 is the steel beams in the shape of a cross that dominated the ruins for many months, not because it was Christian but because it seemed a lamentation for all who died: brokers, secretaries, firemen, waiters and waitresses, pedestrians, etc.

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  3. I guess my cynicism stems from the attention given to American deaths vs. everywhere else. Tragic and sad, yes, but the American war reaction to 9/11 eventuated in maybe two orders of magnitude more deaths. Perhaps we should be flying C130's full of teddy bears over to the mideast.

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  4. I used to scoff at the little white crosses until I saw a young woman clearing out the old plastic flowers and decorating it for Halloween. Presumably her dead child is buried in a cemetery, but she gravitates to his place of death, not his place of rest. I have noticed this cross for years. I sometimes have been tempted to write an anonymous note. "I say a Hail Mary every time I pass this cross. I bet you were a good mother. I grieve with you." But I don't.

    Yeah, the balloons and Teddy bears and candles are undignified and hokey. They make a mess. They get soggy. They are transitory. But that doesn't mean there isn't real grief behind them.

    I'm also not sure how you can see the kids at Stoneman High embellishing the white crosses and stars of David with notes and flowers, and not see a clear line from that to their activism. Was it the students who demanded that the school be done over and grief counselors brought in so they could "get past it all"? No, it was adults who wanted to try to put their spoiled innocence back in the bottle. The kids wanted to to do something with their rage.

    Funerals have never been very meaningful for me. What is said and done is decent, rote, dignified, and sterile. A funeral insists that we believe that the departed is much happier without us now. It insists we dress up nice. It insists we let others see that we have "moved on." It's not an occasion to "give way." That comes before and after.

    You can be jaded, cynical, and skeptical about makeshift memorials. But I see in these messy, unlovely accretions the messiness of death and grief itselfitself, when it is still fresh and appalling.

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    1. Jean, that's how I see the little memorials too. They mean somebody is still hurting. But if it was me, I'd prefer to do my remembering in a cemetery, because I like cemeteries. I like to walk through them and read the names and dates. And epitaphs. But people don't do those much anymore.

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  5. I agree they are a form of ritual for the unchurched. I think they supplement whatever goes on inside the churches. The old Christendom ideal of a village with a church on the central square, the bells tolling from the church tower to call the faithful in from the fields to prayer - that ideal recedes farther every year. When a teenager is killed in a drunk driver accident, her friends may be of 10 different religions or no religion at all. Their network of relationships is, in a sense, their faith community. And these roadside memorials are the ritual that those networks have hatched.

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  6. The Church's funeral rituals seem, to me, to come pretty close to what people are looking for in times of personal trial. For a long time, our parish was the go-to place for far-flung families looking to bury granny when other pastors consulted their envelope records and decided they never heard of granny. That turned out to be a good source of income from grateful family members. It also produced questions about whether there are "any parishes like this" where the far-flung family members were. It also produced some of the world's tallest and heaviest Paschal candles and permanent back problems for a deacon who had to carry one at Easter. The Church does bury people well.

    But that doesn't help with school shootings, terrorist attacks and night club mass murder. The public forms of mourning become watery when everybody has a do-it-yourself religion.

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    1. Just a few thoughts from the other side of the fence.

      My mother had no service for my dad, but specifically asked for a Unitarian memorial service for both her and Dad when they were both gone.

      This would have been fine had there been a Unitarian minister to tip-toe through the minefield of different faiths represented by her mourners. But the local fellowship was between ministers. Unitarian families often do their own memorial following a loose order of service, so that's what I was faced with. A do it yourself.

      There was a standard opening prayer giving thanks for the life of the deceased(s), a Scripture reading, a eulogy, a moment of silent remembering, a final reading or prayer, and a final blessing. I stuck to psalms for the most part.

      I offered "parts" to family members. Most declined.

      I opted for no music, though my brother unhelpfully suggested "Whiskey, You're the Devil" or "Body of an American" by the Pogues.

      Later, I wondered if what I had done was a sin. As a Catholic, ought I to be presiding over a Unitarian funeral? The traditional Protestant relatives found the whole thing a bit outrageous. "I don't know how you got through that," my Lutheran aunt said.

      The Catholics were slightly more kindly, "That was Tom and Sara, religious rebels to the end."

      My other option was simply to hold a reception at the funeral home with no one standing up to witness that, flawed as my parents were, we loved them and they mattered. Just couldn't bring myself to do that and then throw them in a hole.

      I suppose my folks' service was watery. But better than nothing.

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    2. Thank God for the prepackaged ritual funeral of the Catholic Church. I'm glad I didn't have to cobble up a funeral from scratch for my aunt as Jean had to for her parents. For the first time, I had a friend die who wanted no memorial. I rack that up to planning while demented. Some friends and acquaintances just had a funeral home gathering with a priest or minister dropping in to say a prayer. But public displays in the wake of a mass tragedy are another matter.

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    3. First of all, I agree wholeheartedly with your view of the Church's vigil, funeral and burial rights.

      Second, I think there is a special circle in hell for pastors who would refuse a funeral, especially over a reason as tacky as failure to donate to the parish. Churches typically charge a fee, which (if I'm not mistaken) should be built into the funeral home's expenses. So the parish should be financially whole (or more than whole) for any funeral. If the parish decides to waive the fee, even better.

      And I agree that the church's ritual is deeper than teddy bears and balloons. Which is not meant to detract from those heartfelt offerings. But why feed them thin gruel when the bread of life is available to them?

      I guess I'd also note that when we talk about grieving and healing, we're talking about real and important things, and it's part of a church's mission to tend to the living whose world has been rocked by the loss of a loved one. But there is also the aspect of praying for the one who died. That's also primary in the church's funeral services. Naturally, that introduces an element of Christian belief that may not be universally shared - the notion of life after death. That's okay. People can, and perhaps should, be exposed to things that they aren't yet ready to accept or haven't thought about before. Just my personal view.

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    4. Jean, I think you did the right thing. And it sounds to me like you handled it pretty competently.

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    5. I was implicitly too hard above on the pastors who refuse to bury granny. If they have no evidence of her church membership, they may have scruples about giving her a full Catholic burial, even if the kids attest that she was a Catholic all her life. IMO, such pastors should pray to St. Alphonsus Liguri, patron of people with scrupulosity. But I do understand them.

      But there is a specific kind of Florida tragedy. Pop sells the dry cleaners and he and mom move down here when they are 62. For awhile, they are very active at Our Lady of Mercedes, but as they age, they slow down. Pop dies, and Mom wants to stay in Florida. Eventually she sets her kitchen on fire, and the kids decide to put Mom into assisted living. Where they put her is in St. Ford's parish, 15 miles from Our Lady of Mercedes. St. Ford's has a priest who comes to say Mass at the nursing home when he can, but he speaks Spanish and has other appointments and can't hang around to chat.

      Mom dies. The alpha kid -- oldest sister of the one who has season tickets to the Jets games and airline miles -- takes charge. S/he wants things to go neatly, efficiently and have some kind of show if any of Mom's friends (s/he has no idea who they are) hear about the funeral. So s/he calls St. Ford's, pushes the secretary around on the phone and eventually reaches the pastor, who already wants no part of the caller, especially when s/he begins, "We are way past Catholicism now, of course, but Mom still was, and..." So the pastor blows him off. And another Florida tragedy has occurred.

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    6. A few years ago some relatives of my husband, who aren't Catholic, asked him to do a little graveside service for a cousin who had died a couple of months previously and had been cremated. He carefully prepared some scripture readings, some personal remembrances of the cousin, and some prayers (which he pretty much lifted from the church's committal rites). But when we got to the cemetery the wind was blowing about 40 mph and scattered his notes. He winged it the best he could, and nobody complained. And we all picked sandy prairie grit out of our teeth afterwards.

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    7. Tom - that is way too realistic :-). And quite clear. Many thanks.

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    8. Why would anybody in his right mind start a conversation with a priest saying, "We're way past Catholicism"? and antagonize the Church Ladies and priest? It seems to me you call and explain that Mom was in St. Ford's nursing home and enjoyed attending Mass there regularly, and she now needs a funeral Mass. Everyone in the local parish knows I lapsed a long time ago, but I can't imagine I would get hassled if I had to arrange a Mass for Raber. Pretty sure the Church Ladies would take me aside to make it clear I ought not to receive, but I can't see them denying the smells and bells treatment Raber has requested.

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    9. Jean, I specified it was the Alpha child. Most people would be respectful if they asked for something, even something they believed the deceased was entitled to. But Alphas always feel their Alphaness threatened (cf, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.) and have to begin on top. Plus, ex-Catholics have to make their ex-ness clear before they be asked a trick question by the priest. Alpha exes act exactly as I described, according to receptionists I know -- who are nothing like the church ladies you know.

      There are members of the family who could handle it better. But they don't have season tickets to the Jets.

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    10. I am the Alpha in our family. The very oldest and meanest of us all, as my cousins like to say.

      That's how I get stuck being called on for medical emergencies, trying to settle estates, preventing people from walking off with the family jewels, and planning the damn funerals. I can be extremely diplomatic when I have to be (with priestly egos) and bossy when necessary with mercenary in-laws.

      I do engage in passive aggressive behavior when I need to make a point. Complainers get bombarded with text messages full of details so that the minutiae that is eating up hours of my life cuts into theirs, too.

      I don't consider myself an ex-Catholic. I consider myself a Catholic on hold.

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    11. Jean, I wouldn't expect you to act like an Alpha if you had to arrange a future in Florida. For one thing, you aren't afraid priests will kidnap you and take you to reeducation camp.

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    12. Wow. Sounds like the alphas are pretty paranoid down there! Up Here, we alphas are the ones who re-educate everyone else.

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    13. Hah! You think the out-of-state alphas are paranoid. Some time I'll tell you about the guys (mostly guys) who sold their business up North and got themselves elected to the condo board so they can treat other owners the way they treated their employees.

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  7. Question: Has anyone written about or figured out what the teddy bear represents at these memorial sites? Winnie the Pooh? The "little bear" in Goldilocks? They seem ubiquitous and yet what do they mean, what do they evoke?

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    1. I guess I read the Teddy bears as evocative of infancy, innocence. Alone a Teddy bear represents the child who can no longer cuddle it. Or maybe it's a "present" to the dead child: we value all children, and this is the Teddy bear/symbol of comfort we wish we could offer you.

      Sometimes we (by which I mean me) grieve in strange ways. I take a can of diet Coke to a friend's grave every year. I drink half of it and pour the rest on her grave and say a Hail Mary. Why? It's pointless. But it makes me feel better.

      I kept finding makeshift "shrines" to our cat Butch who had to be put down when The Boy was about six. These would include Legos, blocks, pictures of cats, usually lit with a night light, in some unobtrusive corner. Once there was some cat food in front of it. I didn't comment except to make it a point to talk about things we liked about Butch. After about a month, it stopped. I mentioned it to a friend who said that something similar occurred with her daughter after a grandparent died.

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