“The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them…they are in peace.” – Wisdom 3:1
I write this reflection with a heavy heart for several of my friends who have experienced losses recently. Please know that you are with me in my prayers and heart as I write. This Sunday, we commemorate All Souls Day and pray for all the faithful departed. One thing (of many!) I am grateful for about the Catholic Church is that we carve out seasons and specific ways to mourn. This time of year particularly, the readings of the liturgical cycle touch repeatedly on the end of earthly life and the hope of eternal life to come. If time allows, priests can offer the sacraments of Reconciliation, the Anointing of the Sick, and the Eucharist as viaticum: food for the journey, giving strength and comfort to souls in their last earthly moments. Funeral liturgies, rosaries, and Altar Society dinners (prepared by some of the most loving ladies you will ever meet) are beautiful and comforting services. We even have liturgical music specifically for commending a soul to heaven, called a Requiem (Here is a beautiful one: Faure’s Requiem Mass)
I was talking with a friend who recently lost a loved one. She mentioned that it is strange how even though grief is something we all experience, we rarely talk about it with each other. People are often left alone in their grief because many of us, even having gone through our own times of grief, don’t quite know how to help the person talk about their loved one who has passed. Perhaps part of the reason is because we muddle our way through our own grief and facing it in another is subconsciously frightening. Or maybe we are afraid of causing more hurt for the person already in pain, so we refrain from being there for a person in need.
It can be helpful to remember that two of the Spiritual Works of Mercy are tied to consoling those in grief: comforting the sorrowful and praying for the dead. Even just being present for a person in grief can be incredibly consoling. A simple card in the mail, text, or phone call letting the person know you are there in case they want to talk is a good way to let a grieving person know that you care, are available when they are ready to talk, and that you are praying for them and their loved one.
When our hearts are open to listening to and consoling those who are grieving, we don’t even need to say much–if anything–to comfort them. I’ve found it’s best the less I fumble over what to say and instead offer a listening ear, warm eyes, and a consoling hug. You could ask the person what they remember about their loved one. What are some good memories they’d like to share? Ask them what is most difficult. Then just listen. Sometimes there are no words, and that is okay, too. I have sat for a long while on my stairs with a friend in grief, not saying anything, just being together. That experience was a comfort to me as much as to my friend.
“‘God of mercies and Father of all comfort,’ comfort all our hearts, both those who are oppressed with such grief and those held down with any other sorrow; and grant us deliverance from all despair and increase of spiritual joy…” – St. John Chrysostom
I think that is how the Holy Spirit comforts us in our grief, by being the intangible but very real presence of God the Father and spirit of Christ for us. The Holy Spirit is called the “Spirit of Comfort” (John 14:26). God comforts us when we come to Him in prayer, enabling us to be His comfort for others: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
Come, Holy Spirit of Comfort. Please comfort me in my need so that I can become Your comforting presence for another. May all the souls of the faithfully departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.