Lament may seem like an old-fashioned word, better suited to our grandparents’ days
than ours. Lament’s voice, to our modern ears, may sound plaintive, bemoaning,
keening. Yet so many of our religious traditions took seriously the spiritual practice of lament – and, given the times we are living in, and through, practicing lament may well
be exactly what our souls are yearning for.
In her profound essay on the subject of lament, María Alejandra Andrade Vinueza
writes, in Indigenous and Christian traditions alike, the practice of lament helps “to avoid
the temptation of running away from grief and, instead, give it enough space to restore
and give life.” In fact, “a spirit of lament is where we must begin if we are to step
towards healing.” Our spiritual ancestors knew a lot about lament. That’s why psalms,
ancient litanies and hymns, public ceremonies and memorials, even liturgical calendars
and anniversaries acknowledge days of remembrance, fasting, memorializing – all
grounded in an understanding of the power of a public acknowledgment of grief.
We grieve what we love, and there is so much to lament right now. Children without
food. Civilians caught in crossfire. Families torn asunder. Forests wrecked by drought
and fire. Intimidation of public officials. Abrupt endings of livelihoods. The absence of
care, support and compassion. Grief upon grief. Where to begin?
Vinueza offers an outline of the practice of lament; not quite a step-by-step guide, rather
a flow of noticing, feeling, practicing and resolving. Lament involves several
“movements,” usually addressed to someone, or something, outside ourselves. We first
recognize and name damage that has been done – the harm and destruction which has
been wrought, often by others, but also involving ourselves – our own attitudes,
behaviors and life choices, for we are truly interdependent. This calls for both deep
listening and honesty as we question our own beliefs and values even as we rail against
“others.” Next, we need to take the time to feel deeply, not rushing to try to fix or solve,
excuse or explain. Sitting with the sadness of what has happened is hard. We don’t
want to linger there. But this is the space grief needs.
However, the practice of lament does not stop at grief. After our expressions of sorrow,
we turn towards change. Depending on the situation, this may include remorse,
repentance, restitution, restoration – but in all, there is a commitment, a resolve,
towards a different path: a turning toward a different kind of future – one more justice-
filled, life-affirming, and hopeful.
Most importantly, lament often takes place in communal settings, places where we may
be witnesses, and witnessed. One role of spiritual leaders and religious traditions
throughout history has been honoring loss in community – from marking the passing of
an individual to leading vigils in response to society’s tragedies. Faith leaders and
communities hold a deep well of wisdom and practice in this area of communal living. A
rabbi friend says “How will your heart break? In a thousand pieces? Or open?”
Lamenting in, and with, community offers a public opportunity for our hearts to break,
and to be healed.
Far from being exclusive, public rituals of lament aspire to be accessible to all,
regardless of faith affiliation or belief. When we circle up on the town common, holding
candles for victims of shootings, we are neighbors first. Walking miles to show our care
for, and commitment to, those living with Alzheimer’s disease, cancer, or AIDS, we are
united by our shared pain and loss of those we hold dear. Laying a wreath or placing a
flag at the grave of one who lost their life in service, we join our sadness with the
thousands through history who have lost sons, daughters, brothers, sisters to war.
It is in this spirit that the West County Climate Circle will offer “Count the Cost: A
Peaceful Walk of Lament and Commitment” in Shelburne Falls on Wednesday, August
20. A small group of citizens has joined together to offer this opportunity for all who
wish to lament and reflect on the very real effects of recent executive orders, court
decisions, extra-governmental actions, and congressional legislation on our community.
We will stop at places which bear the brunt of the cuts in funding, court decisions, and
more in order to grieve the actions of our federal government, causing devastating
effects on our, and our neighbors’, lives. We will hear the voices of those affected by
these actions and lament the costs. And, in the spirit of the whole arc of lament, we will
both hear of possible consequences and commit ourselves to preserving what we
treasure in our community. The walk will begin at the steps of the Arms Library on the
corner of Main and Bridge Streets at 5 p.m. All are welcome.
The practice of lament has the power to bring us back to our fullest selves: to remind us
of what we most love and care for – how grateful we are for their existence – how deep
our pain when that is lost – and how much we have to offer as we dedicate ourselves
and our actions towards life anew.
The Rev. Alison Cornish is a Unitarian Universalist minister, lives in Shelburne Falls, is a
member of the West County Climate Circle, and serves as the Chaplaincy Initiative
Coordinator for The BTS Center. Find out more and connect at thebtscenter.org.