Western religions less than helpful in dealing with grief

Q: Your essay on intellectualizing and denying grief was sent to me by a valued friend. You describe very effectively the truth that to love "guarantees the experience of loss." And yet, not to love? Simply out of the question. Life and death do follow, as day does night. Why, do you suspect, this fact as immutable as time, has not been the focus of mainstream Western religions? And conversely, well explored in the Eastern religions? -- D.C., Palm Springs, Calif.

A: Your question, D.C., rests its finger squarely on the pulse of a great irony of our time: the denial of death. You say death and loss have "not been the focus of ... Western religions."

That's an understatement. In Western civilization, religion is commonly conscripted to aid and abet the denial of death and loss.

Note that I did not say Western religion denies death and loss. I said it is conscripted in that service. See, competent religion stands squarely in a paradox: At once it stands apart from culture (to judge it and lead it), yet it is also a reflection of that culture. Christians often say it this way: "I am in the world but not of it."

I get it. But if you walk through a corral with new boots, you're gonna get some on ya. You'll begin to take on both the advantages and the hazards of life in the corral. And in the corrals of Western civilization, we deny death and loss.

I find this to be especially ironic in Christianity. The central symbol of the Christian faith is the cross, which, however beautifully it decorates our pierced ears, necklaces and altars ... well, before it stood for anything, it stood as a symbol of death. And not just any death, but a death barbaric and accursed beyond comprehension. Yet Christians point at this same symbol to stand for love and life also beyond comprehension. Why? How?

And it's here I wax reprovingly to the entire Western world: Because, big dummies, any possibility of truly living and loving depends entirely on our ability to embrace death. That's not a Christian truth. It's a truth-truth. Those three things are inseparable. Related -- by their very nature!

Sorry. I get carried away.

For all the beauty, meaning and truth that Western institutional religion has offered the world ... well, in its modern form, I give it an overall C- when the subject turns to grief. It is often not useful to sad people. Sometimes it's actually an impediment to healthy grieving. Sometimes antithetical.

You think I sound unduly critical?

In this culture, it's the norm for me to listen to grieving patients try to wrap bad theology around their broken hearts. For example: "I know that God won't give me any more than I can handle ..."

Oh yeah? Lots of things could happen to me today that I can't handle. If my son dies, I don't intend to handle it. I intend to come unceremoniously apart at the seams. And God will just have to handle me not handling it for a while.

"I know my (loved one) is in a better place ..."

That may well be, but your life stinks right now.

"If I just had faith ..."

Well, yeah, but not the way you're thinking about it -- as an alternative to suffering. True faith is a context for suffering. No way to leapfrog from Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday. All paths lead through Friday.

"I know God has some reason for this ..."

I think that's double-speak for "I'm furious with God."

Have you ever seen someone try to paste a religious smile across the gaping wound of grief, outrage and despair? It's creepy. And it's not faith. It's ego-faith. Huge difference. And it makes people miserable, depressed and bitter. It unnecessarily protracts grief.

In the 1987 movie "Roxanne," the fire chief finds his men blithely oblivious to a fire blazing merrily in the firehouse trashcan. He scolds them: "I have a dream. If, heaven forbid, there should ever be a fire in this town, my dream is that the people would not then say, 'Whatever you do, don't call the fire department.' "

I have a dream. My dream is that, if, heaven forbid, someone should fall into acute bereavement, the people would not then say, "Whatever you do, don't go to church."

Ironic, I say, because Jews and Christians share an idea eminently helpful to grieving people: "The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine." (Isaiah 9:2) Those same words were later used by Christians to describe Jesus' life and work (Matthew 4:16).

Where does the light live? It lives in the darkness. Want to see the light? You gotta be willing to walk into the darkness.

Grief is real darkness.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Couseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e--mailed to skalas@ reviewjournal.com.