Death and Lament: Part 5, Searching for Faith Within Our Lament

The point I've made in this series is that our experience of lament has drifted from the experience of lament we see reflected in the Bible, the psalms especially. My argument is that this contrast is, partly, due to how the modern world has affected our existential relationship with death. Simply, lament in the psalms is mainly focused upon the moral (in)coherence of the world, whereas modern lament tends toward personal grief and bereavement. 

In making these observations, however, I have some concerns. 

In everything I've shared, my goal has simply been descriptive. In noting a change in how we relate to death, and how that relationship affects the content of lament, I'm not making a judgement about anything being good or bad, better or worse, right or wrong. I've simply been making some observations. 

Relatedly, in making these observations, I don't want to be seen as trying to minimize the trauma of death, then or now. My observations have more to do with how cultures approach death and how those cultures affect and direct expressions of grief. Personal grief is carried by culture, and cultures are very different when it comes to death. Consequently, it shouldn't be surprising that the American response to death might be very different from an ancient Near-Eastern response to death. Or that a modern Christian response to death might be very different from a Christian response to death in the Middle-Ages. Or a Western Christian response to death from a South American Christian response. And so on. 

Seen from this cultural perspective, then, it really shouldn't shock anyone, given the vast differences in place and time, to see some contrast between the Bible and our modern world in how death is processed and experienced. Which brings me back to this series: Is there any value, then, in trying to draw out this contrast?

For example, let's say it's granted--descriptively speaking--that the cultures we find in the Bible processed grief by meditating on the fragility and brevity of life and by resigning themselves to the mysterious ways of God. The Lord gives, the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Should that, then, become a normative response for us today? To put fine point on it: Should we try to make our response to death more Biblical? 

Now, if that seems like an odd thing to suggest, let me simply point out that a lot of churches are trying to do something just like this. Think about how many low-church Protestants are embracing the ashes of Lent as a memento mori, a contemplation of our mortality under the words "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return." Ponder how many churches are trying to puncture the illusions of culture characterized by a denial of death, where everyone has to be happy. The work of Kate Bowler comes to mind here. Many churches are working hard to normalize grief, recognizing the damage we can do by trying to rush people through their pain to restore them to the cultural default state of "happy." All of these trends indicate that many churches are pushing back upon the pornography of death, working to recalibrate our existential relationship with death in ways we see reflected in Scripture. Again, as the author of Ecclesiastes says, death is the destiny of everyone and the living should take this to heart.

I think these are all very good developments. As the author of Unclean, I'm very much in favor of deconstructing the pornography of death in the modern world. And yet, I also detect some frictions between the modern Christian embrace of death (and I'm mostly thinking here of progressive Christians) and the Biblical posture. Two obvious points of friction concern providence and eschatology. 

Regarding God's providence, while we do see an increased recognition of grief in many progressive Christian spaces, these same spaces are also wary to deploy a Job-like refrain such as, "The Lord gives, the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord." Death is more likely to prompt an angry rejection of God rather than a submission to the mysterious providence of God. We turn away from God in the face of death rather than toward God. Death nudges many modern Christians toward atheism rather than toward prayer.

Some of this is related to the diminished role of Christian hope and eschatology in progressive Christian spaces. Talk of heaven is practically non-existent. In preaching a this-worldly religion of social justice activism, most progressive Christians lack any eschatological framework for their experience of death. Consequently, while it is true that grief is increasingly recognized, embraced, and honored in these spaces, it's also true that many Christians in these spaces grieve as if they have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4.13).  

That said, I should also note issues I see among evangelical and prosperity gospel approaches toward death. In these spaces, a triumpalistic, heaven-heavy sensibility reigns and concerns about an over-realized eschatology seem legitimate. In these overly triumpalistic Christian spaces, grief isn't permitted as sorrow would be an expression of a lack of faith. To my eye, this appears to be another form of death-avoidance and death-denial. 

So it seems that we're trying to thread a pastoral and theological needle. On the one hand, we have Christians who embrace grief but who struggle with heavenly consolation and resignation to the mysteries of divine providence. On the other hand, we have Christians with such a triumpalistic and over-realized eschatology that they admit no room for grief and sorrow. 

Somewhere between these two groups, I think, is a properly Christian response to death. We're searching for faith within our lament.