Through the Valley

Before I dive into this, some disclaimers:

1. I am not a member of the clergy, a spiritual leader, or anything like that. This is just a thing I developed for myself that I figured I’d share in case anyone else found it useful.

2. I neither like nor agree with everything in the Bible, but I think it has a lot of beauty and meaning on the whole.

3. Although I, today, consider myself a person of some kind of faith, I still struggle with resentment and/or fear for my safety as an openly and visibly queer person when I see symbols like crosses, those fish outline jawns, or anything overly Jesus-y in public spaces. I only say this so you know: wherever you are, whatever you're bringing with you when you read this, that's all perfectly okay. You get to be where you are on your own path.

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Over the past few years, I’ve really come to appreciate the rhythms of the liturgical calendar that is used by most protestant churches. Specifically, I’ve come to value the slower seasons of intentionality and reflection of Lent and Advent. And something I’ve come to love about the Jewish calendar and tradition is the way it creates time and space to lean into grief. That’s something our Western culture really sucks at doing.

There has been a lot to grieve as of late. Wars, politics, mass shootings, an ongoing pandemic, tragic accidents - the list goes on and on and on. I’ve seen and heard a lot of expressions of fear, pain, and rage. Nobody is doing well right now. In my experience, pretty much all of these emotions tend to underline the bigger emotion that I (and the society around me) hesitate to name: grief. It’s a small word, a big concept, and sometimes a truly overwhelming feeling. I think right now we are individually and collectively in a deeply burned-out state of grief, and I don’t think it’s going to go away anytime soon.

In a few weeks, beginning at sundown on August 6, many in the Jewish tradition will be observing Tisha B’Av, a fast day which is specifically designated as a day of collective mourning. While the origins of this day of communal grieving surrounded the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, many communities and individuals also pause and reflect on more recent losses and tragedies. On this day, the Book of Lamentations is read aloud or chanted in synagogues around the globe. As a global Jewish community, small pockets of individuals actively sit with the very real pain of generational and personal sorrows. They don’t run from it. They don’t hide from it. They don’t try to downplay its magnitude. Instead, they embrace the nuance and reality that faith isn’t a way of avoiding pain and suffering, but a way of getting through it. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever encountered or heard of.

I don’t know about you, but I could really use a season of creating and holding space for grief right now. Using what I have learned from the protestant liturgical calendar and the beautiful intentionality of Jewish holy days, I have developed a thing - I don’t know what label to give it - that I have titled “Through the Valley: A Scriptural Journey with Grief.” For the five weeks leading up to Tisha B’Av, I’ll be pausing at sundown (or thereabouts) to light a candle and do a short 5-10 minute session of reading and reflecting, with the primary text base being the Book of Lamentations used during the Tisha B’Av services.

I developed this for myself, but it occurred to me that others might find it useful as well. Below is a calendar with the scheduled readings and reflection questions that I will be using for my own process. If you feel so moved, I invite you to use it in any way that will serve you. Take what you need and leave the rest, feel free to adapt as needed, and - of course - feel free to share these resources with others. Regardless of how we choose to move through this world that feels so difficult and threatening at times, may we all do our best to do so with a sense of kindness and compassion toward ourselves and those around us.

Through the Valley: A Scriptural Journey with Grief

Schedule of Readings & Reflections

(Note: Click the image below to see a larger version of the image. You can also find a plain text large print version of the scheduled readings and meditations by clicking the button below the image.)

View Large Print Schedule

The Liturgy

OPENING

(Groups doing this together may read responsively, bolded/nonbolded)

In my distress I call upon the Lord;

To my God I cry for help.

From his temple he hears my voice,

And my cry to him reached his ears.

PRAYER

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference, living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; taking this world as it is and not as I would have it; trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will.

READING #1 (See Calendar)

SILENT MEDITATION/PRAYER PROMPT (See Calendar)

READING #2 (See Calendar)

PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE (If practicing in a group, feel free to change singular pronouns to plural as you wish)

Wisdomkeeper, I acknowledge that grief contains multitudes and layers that ebb and flow like a great river. I recognize that under grief's turbulent surface lie gratitude and love, for I do not grieve things I do not love. Sometimes this bittersweet combination is especially hard to see and feel. Sometimes it doesn't feel like there's room for all of it in my heart at the same time. I pray now that you will wrap me in your gentle grace as I sit with these seemingly contradictory Truths.

(If practicing this in a group, individuals may be invited to respond to the following questions aloud or silently.)

For whom or what am I grateful for today?

For whom or what do I weep today?

CLOSING

(Groups doing this together may read responsively, bolded/nonbolded)

May your unfailing love be my comfort

According to your promise. Amen.