Good Grief

Seeing the quality of our faith in the light of suffering

02/13/2017

Genesis 4:1-15, 25 

The man had relations with his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, "I have produced a man with the help of the LORD." Next she bore his brother Abel. Abel became a keeper of flocks, and Cain a tiller of the soil. In the course of time Cain brought an offering to the LORD from the fruit of the soil, while Abel, for his part, brought one of the best firstlings of his flock. The LORD looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not. Cain greatly resented this and was crestfallen. Cain said to his brother Abel, "Let us go out in the field." When they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him. Then the LORD asked Cain, "Where is your brother Abel?" He answered, "I do not know.  Am I my brother's keeper?" The LORD then said: "What have you done! Listen: your brother's blood cries out to me from the soil! Adam again had relations with his wife, and she gave birth to a son whom she called Seth. "God has granted me more offspring in place of Abel," she said, "because Cain slew him."

          Good grief! In the wake of my nephew’s untimely death, today’s Scripture recounts the first fratricide in human history: the murder of Abel at the hands of his brother Cain. Do I really need to hear about another sad and heart-breaking death? Why not a nice story about the triumphant Temple construction in Jerusalem (that would be okay), or a love poem from the Song of Songs (I wouldn’t mind that), or even waxing philosophic with a few verses from Ecclesiastes or Wisdom? But no, the Scriptures will not give me an easy-out, or allow me to avoid my grief. Rather, I’m invited to plunge deeper into the pain by contemplating the very first death recorded in Sacred Scripture.

          Over the years as a priest I’ve often recommended to people suffering the loss of a loved one that they read C. S. Lewis’ book called A Grief Observed. In it Lewis is brutally and bravely honest in describing his exact feelings. Anyone who reads it will grieve with Lewis over the death of his wife, Joy. Now, please know that I look up to Lewis as a towering figure of faith, but clearly Lewis’ faith crumbled under the weight of his loss. But then he offers this ray of hope to those who feel the same way he did. He wrote: “God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn’t…He always knew that my Temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down” (A Grief Observed, 49). But let me quickly add this critical clarification. God does not deliberately make us miserable so he can increase our faith, especially when someone we love dies. That’s not how he works.  The Scriptures categorically confirm God himself saying, “For I take no pleasure in the death of anyone” (Ezekiel 18:32). But when death does rear its ugly head, we have an opportunity to reexamine our faith. Indeed, God shines a light on our faith so we can’t miss it. It is only in that very limited and very cautious sense that we can say that grief is good, or “good grief” like Charlie Brown so often said.

          I realize that you may not be going through the grieving process like me, and I’m sorry for pushing this on you every time I preach lately. Maybe that helps me to grieve, so you’ll just have to put up with it! Nevertheless, ask yourself today (like I’m being forced to ask myself): what is the caliber and quality of your faith? We might honestly answer: “I think my faith is pretty strong. I go to church every Sunday, I love my wife and kids, I give to the poor, I say my daily prayers, I try to be honest, kind and good.” All that is good: keep doing it!

          But have you ever noticed how many people who profess no Christian faith do those exact same things? Romano Guardini, in his book simply entitled The Lord, stresses this point, saying, “No one has the right to judge whether or not another lives according to the Sermon on the Mount. There is no specific outward behavior that expresses it” (like those I just mentioned). Guardini continues: “Indeed, not even the chosen one himself can be certain how things stand with him…The chance is taken in faith” (The Lord, 107). In other words, your good behavior alone does not prove that you have deep faith.

          Often we only see the true depth (or shallowness) of our faith when it is sifted, like the wheat from the chaff, in the crucible of suffering. And when we see our faith naked and exposed to God’s light (like a prematurely born baby under a hospital heat lamp), we cry out like the father who wanted Jesus to heal his son in the gospel, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24). That is the sense – and perhaps the only possible sense – in which grief is good.

          Praised be Jesus Christ!