From the desk of Fr. Ignatius, c.p.

Sunday,December 6, 2009

Last week after the publication of the Dublin Report, a lady, who came from far, told me all she could do those days was weep.  She was not depressed, she had long gone beyond anger; she was just weeping; she was mourning. 

Three other people told me the same thing and they were equally clear that they were not tears of depression or anger.  They just needed to mourn.  They were mourning the rape of innocent children, the abuse of trust and power and the denial and cover-up by those who should have known better.  And they were mourning the pain and confusion of all the good people in the church and outside the church.  They helped me put words on what I was feeling because that’s all I was doing – feeling! 

I couldn’t think; I couldn’t understand; I was just feeling awful feelings.  Did I know anything about this church that has been so much of my life for so long?  I felt I could understand the sick perpetrators better than I could understand those in authority who were meant to be responsible and not sick.  And of course I was sure I wouldn’t have acted like they did were I in that role.  But how do I know?  If I were part of the same sick system, would I have had the insight and wisdom to see how sick it was and the courage to act outside it?

But then I remembered something that seems a necessary first step before we do anything else – and much more is needed.  It is what Richard Rohr calls “The Weeping Mode.”  It is different from beating ourselves up; it is different from depression; it’s a gentle release of tears that washes, baptises, and helps us see more clearly. 

Weeping leads to owning our complicity in the problem.  Weeping is the opposite of blaming and the opposite of denying.  It leads to deep healing when inspired by the Spirit.  Jesus wept a lot!  (Heb. 5:7)  The saints were always crying!  And they weren’t ashamed of it or scared of it as I can be.  It is often called the “gift of tears” though I didn’t always see it as such.  St. Francis cried a lot.  So did St. Clare.  In fact they spent time crying together.  St. Ephrem the Syrian said the freedom to cry was a clear sign that you had actually experienced God.

Other than in Celtic and Eastern spirituality, with their rich emotional component, most of the tradition of tears has been lost.  And when it’s lost, all our grief seems to turn to anger and accusation.  When the mourning that Jesus called “blessed” is lost, we move instead into a fixing, blaming and controlling mode.  According to Rohr, “Healing/grieving services would help us a lot more than suspensions, annulments and excommunications.”