I've been wondering about a commonly repeated statement, "But even though I suffered, I never lost my faith." And I wonder, what comfort does that provide? I don't understand how it makes someone feel better or how it helps to heal them, and I don't understand why people praise others for "keeping their faith."
But first, let me veer a little in the direction of bargaining. I must be blunt, if I had the option, I would lose my faith for my child to live a good and happy life with a mother and father who would have loved her to eternity. What am I saying?--as it is we love her now to eternity. In the religion I was raised, I would choose damnation if it meant that my child would live. There I said it, and I'm glad. Let me restate, "I would choose eternal damnation for the life of my child." I would not be obedient to the god that Abraham heard to kill his son, only to have him saved by an angel. I would fail the test; I would first fail in god's eyes and choose my child's life.
Oh, who am I kidding, I would probably be just as weak. If the burning bush boomed at me "do this" and "be obedient above all," I'd likely be a typical human and cave. I am after all the product of a patriarchal society, and it's unlikely I could resist my upbringing. Unlikely.
(Yes, I know the burning bush is Moses and not Abraham. I am purposefully borrowing where I wish. It's a blog, not an academic paper for cripe's sake.)
Crazy thoughts? To choose loss of faith for the life of my child? No, I don't think so, I've listened to the fervent and desperate prayers of mothers begging for their children to live and I'm intimately aware of my own pleas. When we say we would have done anything to save our children, I believe us. Eternal damnation does not seem like too high a price. But, we don't know, because, frankly, I don't believe we ever get to make that choice. The offer is never made.
Which brings me to wonder about this need to profess continued faith while living a life parenting a dead child? If I would have given my soul to save my child's life, then how could hanging onto religious faith comfort me in my sorrow? I suspect that I suffer the pain of my child's death, with or without faith. So, I question, is faith and grief truly related? Is grieving the loss of a child a mark or sign that one isn't faithful enough? "Jesus Wept" and well, wait, why does faith default to Christianity? What about other faiths and beliefs? I don't intimately know the grief response of other monotheisist or polytheisist religions. Moreover, I wonder about the so-called "faithless" agnostic who professes a belief that humans have a biological predisposition to be compassionate and loving toward others. And a bereaved parent who professes no belief in god. There are moms who profess no religious faith; they suffer as much as I and they heal as well as I. I will not be so self-righteous or delusional to believe they suffer more. That would be arrogant and wrong.
I respect that religious faith gives many comfort. In fact, the traditions of my faith were and continue to be of great comfort to me with wonderful prayers and rituals to honor my child and grieve her death and help me feel a sense of hope. But, I just wonder why the need to profess not wavering? Is it the sense of control of something, when we couldn't save our child? Or when we realized that our faith had no power to save our child? "I lost my child, but at least I didn't lose my faith. That I have the power to keep."
What are the implications for those who DO "lose their faith" or whose faith wavers? I can't help but hear the clear comparison of "I'm better than those who wavered or lost their faith." And well, that's just not particularly loving or charitable, now is it? More importantly, it doesn't truly comfort the one who professes with those words. That sentiment is mere fragments. It's a blanket with superior[ity] holes, and it won't warm or protect. And when I hear it said or see it written, I shrink with sadness.
Finally, why do some bereaved parents use the death of their children to propagate their particular faith? "My child died, but I still trust in God, and you should too," they say. One statement I've heard that simply stuns me is this "He has shown himself in this. God is great. No God, but God." I honestly don't understand how that is related to the horror of losing a child. It tells me, "I can still praise God, even though my child died." Well, I must say, and this may be shocking, but I don't see how it's related. In tandem, I don't understand the sentiment that the death of a child is a test from God of an parent's faith in him. Really? God caused my child to die to test my faith? That cannot possibly be the same God who blessed me with my child to show his love? I'm sorry. No, I'm not sorry. I don't want anymore of this. Oh, then I get told that I can't be angry with god for taking my child, because he blessed me with her. Really, I'm not angry with God, I'm angry with those who assume I have some anger at God, when what I believe is that God was and is helpless to change the world God put in motion and that God weeps WITH me. I can reason it no other way.
Now, this could go on and on and on with a fencing battle for me to own my grief and honor my love for my child by allowing myself to feel the emotions that arise from her death and those who need me to keep my faith above all else. I've felt attacked with statements meant to guilt, "remember that God gave his only son," suggesting that I should not feel as horrible as I feel because, God felt worse? OK, brace yourself, because for the traditionalist, this will sound like blasphemy, but it's irrelevant. God knows how bad this feels, then God knows that I need to feel how bad this feels and learn to heal. And if we're going to go literal on the bible here, God's son was dead for three days, then he went home. God got his wish, his child lives with him again. It is Mary that wailed with bereavement until her own ascension to heaven.
Now, I just wish there were a safe place to pose this volatile query. But, I'll get skewed for sure and prayed over and pitied for not understanding and bible-versed at and well, I don't have the energy for all that. Nor, do I desire to make others uncomfortable or feel a challenge to their beliefs. So, I'll just keep this to myself. Or not. Maybe I and others should think about this loss of faith "thing." Maybe a careful look is deserved.
My final thought . . . from my own religious tradition,
"But the greatest of these is LOVE."
