There is an intercession in Anglo-Catholic services that ends with “…and anyone else for whom our prayers are desired”. I’ve always liked this bit because it drives home what my understanding of prayer should be: a personal conversation between you and whatever you need to be talking to in that moment, with the support of others. It’s a time when it feels like there’s truly a community behind you (and not the kind with pitchforks and torches).
What’s happening with “christo”-fascists propelling the radicalised right is of course actively damaging the good which can come from communal worship. These fools purposely misconstrue liturgy and theology for their own power games and profit. They are the ones most legit religions warn against.
But look. I’m not here to be an apologist. What do you with your own understanding of the universe is fine (providing your application if that understanding isn’t causing harm). And I’m not going to talk about the harm people acting on behalf of or in the name of organised religion have caused or how churches should be taxed as regular businesses (I don’t disagree). I’m here to talk about grief and the importance of community, whether it’s faith-based or not.
Our family recently lost someone we love very much. It has happened sooner than we thought it would, and we are fortunate to have had the time with our person to tell them everything we need to say, which truly is a gift. And through this process what has been very clear is the outpouring of love and understanding and support and empathy we have received from our community.
Our person would be, I’m sure, relieved to know none of us is an island and we are brought even closer together in our mourning. Community is strong. Powerful. Essential. Together we are unstoppable.
Do not let divisive rhetoric defeat us. We can’t afford to suffer the lies. We need to think critically, question, and follow the truth. Facts. Don’t let yourself be manipulated.
Love your people fiercely. Hold them close. Choose the path of least harm. Tell them how you feel. Share your laughter and your tears.
Grief is weird. It hits you at strange times and in strange ways. Grief is laughter and tears; anger and grace. Grief is big and it’s small and it can be sneaky.
It comes at the end of things, and marks the beginning of something else.
i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.