The Art of the Lament

If you are to work through your suffering and come into the light, you must learn the art of the lament. First one must avoid denial and admit the pain and horror of one's circumstances or situation. The alcoholic is notorious for failing to acknowledge his problem with drinking, rationalizing in any number of ways. For example, despite imbibing enough whiskey in one night to die of alcohol poisoning, the alcoholic may argue that he doesn't binge that often, maybe only once a month (at least for awhile). The friend or family member of the alcoholic may also deny that there is a serious issue, since perhaps the alcoholic does not drive drunk or has not lost his job. We all want to feel normal, and be perceived as such by others, so the suffering person puts on a happy face and acts as if nothing is wrong.

Maybe we also don't want to be whiners or be accused of being melodramatic. We were raised to pick ourselves up by our bootstraps and not ask others for help. True, we should not glorify suffering, but if we want to get better, we have to take the first step to grief and healing by learning to cry out our pain. The Psalms give us ample material for how to move from overwhelmed silence to the bold speech of lament. See Psalms 22, 44, 53, 77, 88, and 109 for a start. The Psalmist may even help you put your problem in perspective. You may be at least a little relieved that your plight is not quite so horrendous as his! Or if it is, then you have a comrade in your distress. Jesus himself offered a tortured lament from the cross, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?!"

Children have not yet become so constrained by society that they are self-conscious regarding appropriate behavior, so they will offer a lament quite naturally. "That's not fair!" they cry out against their perceived injustice, stomping a foot or kicking and screaming on the floor. "Don't have a fit and fall in it," an adult may advise. While we may not want to run through the grocery store knocking boxes and cans off the shelves to express our grief, we need to find a safe way to do it. Take your cue from the child who laments with abandon. Cry your heart out while taking a shower. Read one of the Psalms out loud, with full expression, and make the lament your own. Pray the sorrowful mysteries of the Rosary and unite your suffering to Christ's. Don't be afraid to bend the ear of a compassionate friend, a spiritual advisor, your priest, or a therapist. Such crying out to God allows us to both grieve and to grow into a mature covenant partner with Him.

Lament allows us to put our trust in God. That is the next step. The lament keeps us in conversation with God, renewing our faith and hope and keeping us on a path of Love and Grace. Matthew 10:29-31 says, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows."

The Blessed Mother also hears our cries, and the Memorare of St. Bernard is a powerful prayer for her intercession: "Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that any one who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, and sought thy intercession, was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee I come, before thee I stand sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate! despise not my petitions, but, in thy mercy, hear and answer me. Amen." You could even take a pilgrimage for spiritual and/or physical healing, such as to the Basilica of Our Lady of Consolation in Carey, Ohio.

Our Lady of Consolation

Basilica in Carey, Oh

The Memorare reminds us to acknowledge our sinful nature, and then we can move on to admitting that at times our choices have caused personal and social suffering. Now we can become ready to move toward repentance and a change of heart. We need to reach out to others, asking for help and receiving what they offer, allowing them to accompany us in our "dark night of the soul." At the same time that we break our isolation from others, we move toward God, who may seem very distant at this time. Lament, praise, gratitude--all these are forms of worship.

Years ago I read a life-changing idea in Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance: A Day Book of Comfort and Joy. I encourage you to adopt her practice of keeping a gratitude journal in which you write a list of 5 things each day for which you are grateful. It's okay if the only things you can come up with are the meeting of your basic needs--a roof over your head, food on the table, etc... Gratitude will radically alter the way you see your life and the world. Ban Breathnach also advocates daily journaling in which you write for three pages in a stream-of-consciousness style, just letting whatever is on your mind and heart pour out. In this way you can write your way to wellness (and you can whine all you need!).

Next we follow the life and ministry of Jesus and work as individuals and as communities to overcome and end suffering. Awareness of the world's suffering gets us out of our own pain as we directly express our compassion for others with a listening ear and comforting words, by preparing meals, running errands, providing transportation, or taking political, social, and economic action. We pray daily for those who suffer, offering up our own suffering for the blessing of another. We can't do everything, but we can do at least one thing to promote the relief of the suffering of someone else.

No matter what we are able to do, suffering remains a mystery. Therefore, we lament and act to overcome suffering, even as we acknowledge the incomprehensibility of the injustice and terrorism resulting from people's evil choices, or the pain that comes from horrible accidents. We can try to understand that the suffering of incurable disease or natural disasters simply happens in a world that is not yet fulfilled. We must ask how we can respond to suffering, what we can do to help ourselves and others, and receive the peace and joy that comes from profound trust in a compassionate God. As we continue this holy week toward the Resurrection, let's look forward to the time when we too will rise, and remember that the darkest hour comes before dawn.

* (Some of the ideas on the art of the lament have come from "The Mystery of Suffering," a Catholic Update article by Kenneth R. Overberg, S.J.)