Does Time die with Death? Which Time?

“…But my hand was made strong
By the ‘and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won’t you help to sing
Another song of freedom? -
‘Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
‘Cause none of them can stop the time….” –Bob Marley

~
I understand that we have time on a structured, linear, dependable program. I understand that seconds beget minutes and minutes beget hours and so on–we go forward. It is all very logical and orderly. But why does time change when someone you love dies?

It does. It becomes impossibly slow and then impossibly quick and then a year has gone by, or three and it is a bewildering feeling. Because time doesn’t seem to have passed in its same regular way. Things have happened…big, deep, far-reaching movements.

The ancient Greek belief in two different forms of time is right, it seems. This is the kairos dimension of time that is experienced. Perhaps it is because when someone we love dies, a part of us leaves with them, just as they leave a part with us. They leave into a dimension without time. Could it be that we are then more aware, on at least the subconcious level, of some experience that defies time?

I was talking with Marci about funny movies, and she mentioned to me a movie Earl watched recently that made him laugh so much. Somehow just hearing about Earl laughing makes me feel so good. His humor is something I have valued so much. It is funny to think that just thinking of another person’s laughter can produce such a feeling of happiness. It is tangible and present in the now.

Few probably know that Jeff and I have had at least one person we love die every year since 2003. We have become quite too familiar with grieving/loss and all its waves and pieces. On the bright side, I feel a deeper connection to the Heaven because of this, and have at times glimpsed beyond the veil. I feel and know a connection. I also probably ruminate more than is necessary in trying to progress through all of it. It seems grief is borderless and complex.

And since I am sharing some personal information today, another thing few know about me is that during my training as a hospital chaplain I gave a sermon at a memorial service and officiated a funeral. That was certainly a step out of any expectation I have ever held for myself before. I held it as sacred and an honor. I also felt quite beyond myself in both instances. It is not something I would want to continue to do, but I am glad I had the opportunity to serve in that way. It is a gift for me now. I learned to look for the deeper meaning and value in the midst of death and loss. I plowed through my own experiences and weaved in the anchors that comfort me.

It is hard to believe that it has been nearly three years since Jeff’s father died. This is where I feel the bewilderment of time. Three years feels empty and deceiving. But how illogical of me, how emotional…no. Clearly, it seems, time becomes something that we have constructed and molded for our own narrow purposes, I think. And once the veil of life and death becomes very thin in our lives, we realize, much more is going on. In and through the seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months and years of our lives, there is alive and present something beyond linear chronos time–a different kind of time, in between, abstract.

Merry Christmas!

There were nearly 1,000 people at the funeral Wednesday night. Fr. Tom O’Neill gave the eulogy. He said, “I am a better priest and a better human because of Earl, can any of you say anything less?” Fr. Tom also spoke of the hope of eternal life, but stayed true in acknowledging the reality, the grief and sadness that is the here and now. That was true and good, much appreciated. Joseph, Rachel and Marci had the light of love in their eyes. Our prayers, love and Christmas wishes stay with them.

It is nearly Christmas. So often grief is woven through Christmas, despite the promise of joy and hope within it. It is a season of contradictions and the world appears to be covered in a darkness. I turn to an old friend,

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
–C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

“It is hard to have patience with people who say ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn’t matter.”
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

The memory of the newborn Jesus in this season brings forward the beauty of birth to our deepest pains and grief. It is a Divine Mystery. We step into the darkest day of the year and offer love and gratitude for all good and peace in our lives and soul.

Thank you God, for the water, the sun, the air, please bless it and us in all of this world, in all of it’s directions, with your Holy Spirit, and the newborn God.

Amen.

We so often find love in the midst of death and darkness, thank goodness for that. I find my own sorrow is lessened with the company of dear friends who also are bearing the sorrow.

The Psalms of the bible are songs. They were to be music, with singing and dance. My psalm is a song of grief, but it is woven with great love and faith. I think of how Earl would sing and Marci would dance.

In the Master’s program, in Earl’s stewardship class, he asked us to write a psalm. I wrote one, born of loss I was experiencing at the time and also greatly from Earl’s teaching and care he showed me and the class. I offer it again today for Earl and all who grieve:

Psalm:
Sacred Life, Love Eternal

Source of all Truth and Love,
Love in fullness and maturity,
Love of all Time, ever enduring,
Source of all Goodness,
Please, hear my cries of sorrow, sounding from the heart of my smallness.
Like a wolf, the grief seizes my throat.
Please hear my silent calls for you from the bottom of the deep well of loss.
I gaze upward; I see a graceful, strong three trunked tree stretching skyward.
You grace me with understanding in feeling and seeing.
Your compassion is unimaginably deep, profoundly outstretching, like the tree,
Like Beloved Jesus, who calms me, calms the waves of grief washing over me.
Your love is discreet, filled with dignity.
Your love is eternal and refreshing, like pure spring water flowing
Softly on a shining day.
As clouds gather and oppress me, when coldness seeps through me,
You do not leave. You never leave me.
Your Divine Mystery is my safety.
Your gaze is strong and knowing, making me squirm like a child.
Your Spirit’s Grace is unutterably good, ever unfolding, unceasing.
Your power takes hold within me, I tremble, I falter.
Dearest Holy Spirit, your unbelievable depth saves me, daily.
Your Holy Spirit cleans my breaking heart, tenderly embracing every piece of me.
Source of Holy Grace, send me your Love now,
Untold, unsaid, unutterably holy, hold me now in your understanding.
You have found me crouching in a hidden space,
Crying under the weight of death, and the ironic emptiness.
While life is still unfolding,
Please hear my praise for your Grace and Presence. You will not leave me.
This Love is Sacred and unending.

-C.S.S.

A Good Friend Has Died, We are all Grieving

A good man, a great man died yesterday, December 16th-2007, too young, too soon, we are forced to say goodbye.

Earl Madary is one who has empowered, inspired, brought wisdom, joy to countless people. The impact of his presence, relationship and commitment in this life cannot be quantified. However, we know it is significant and far reaching. He leaves behind an incredibly beautiful family, a wife and two teenage children, who he lived for, they are his treasure.

I met Earl when I was 16, and did not see him again until he and his wife, Marci and my mother and several others began a Catholic Worker house here in La Crosse. He remembered me well and I was surprised, as I was then in my early 20’s and just began to realize his remarkable capacity for memory and compassion. He began teaching at Viterbo when I began undergraduate work there.

Through the Catholic Worker and Viterbo I came to know and appreciate Earl and Marci and their children. They are the kind of folks who are always down to earth, witty, wise, compassionate, with strong moral spines and faith made of bedrock. Earl’s gifts are many, a musician, singer, theologian, musical liturgist, teacher, franciscan, prayer leader, youth leader, the list goes on and on. His humor was fiery and rich, his truth telling was fierce and healing at the same time.

Earl prepared my husband and I for marriage and sang at our wedding. He was one of my and Melinda’s teachers in the Masters program, who helped empower us to servant leadership. Our connection to Earl is not unusual, there are countless, countless people who have received generous gifts from Earl of his spirit, it is hard to impart to you his strength and goodness if you haven’t met him. Earl died in his 42nd year of life after a brave and miraculous battle with Cancer. He triumphs today in Spirit.

The loss feels raw and terrible right now. We all are holding Marci and the children in our hearts and prayers. Our grieving has only begun, and the empty space he leaves is so large.

Earl love-love-loved to canoe and share the Sacred in nature with his family and students. He found oneness with God there, and taught so well about it. He brought many to reconciliation through his humble wisdom, extraordinary knowledge shared with profound compassion. He had a startling, liberating ability to speak the truth. Earl’s religious beliefs and all he taught about religion was confirmed as true for him in his journey through the cancer. He shared that fact with me. He is sorely missed already. I miss his humor already. I join many, many others in this grief and remembrance of him with his family. It is a sad Christmas.

There is the joy of resurrection that we, as Christians believe in, but that does not alter the grief we have to walk through. I feel so happy and blessed to have known Earl, to call him a friend, to have shared in that goodness of relationship with he and his family. I feel deeply grateful for all we have shared. As for so many, he has been a guiding force of goodness and love in my life.
Thank you Earl for your love and generosity. I have learned so much from you. Talking with you was always enriching. Your voice is still here with us (I am listening to Gilead-Earl’s 2004 recording-so amazing and beautiful) and what you have built in this life will grow and live on.

much love and prayers,

Chan

Here is a beautiful piece about Earl from the La Crosse Tribune.