Ministering to One Another

Having just celebrated Easter, the resurrection of Jesus, the greatest celebration in the Christian year, I am thinking about the women.

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, ‘Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?’” (Mark 16:1-3)

They were headed to the tomb. The borrowed tomb where Jesus was buried. But think about this: It was three days since his crucifixion, and in that climate, even in the cool of a cave, the body would have begun to deteriorate. Now, we know the end of the story. No body. No worries. But they didn’t.

His body, especially given the number of open sores and bleeding before he died, would have been really smelly. A disgusting odor. But they loved Jesus, and they were honoring their centuries-old traditions and practices of anointing a dead body. They were not thinking about the smell they would encounter.

Sister Chris Kean of the Benedictine Monastery at Mount St. Scholastica in Atchison, Kansas, says, “‘They were going to the tomb to preserve his body, but they were doing something else too,’ she says. ‘They were ministering to one another in their grief.’” (Atchison Blue, Judith Valente, page 53.)

Ministering to one another in their grief? I like that thought. I can see myself in that passage – especially the part about, “oh, duh, we’ve got this stuff we need, but, hey, that’s a huge stone, and besides it’s sealed with a Roman seal. And there are probably still Roman guards there, who are not going to be helpful at all. How are we going to get in there?” (The paraphrased gospel, according to Polly.)

Have you ever started out to do something and realized that you were missing an essential piece? Maybe making a certain dish or baking something, only to realize you do not have one critical ingredient? I have … many times. These women were not so much different than we are.

But in fairness to these dear women, they were grieving. When someone is grieving he or she may not be thinking clearly. A psychologist once told me, when I was in a muddled state, that phase is called retardation. It’s when you cannot think what to do when what you need to do is very plain and simple. Things as simple as what to put in your grocery cart or what to do next when clearly you need to shower and dress before you can do anything else.

It’s real. I have experienced it, and likely, so have you when you were grieving or coping with an emotionally troubling situation. If it hangs on it might become Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but it is a normal phase of dealing with a loss or difficult situation.

These two Marys and Salome ended up rejoicing when they discovered Jesus was alive. For most of us, when hard things happen the ending is not so happy. The person we love is not going to come back to this Earth. I believe I will see my husband, as well as grandparents and beloved aunts and uncles, again someday when I join them in Heaven, but for now, they are gone from me.

So what can we say to someone who has a loss of a loved one or some emotional upheaval?

I learned from things people said to me when my husband died that many well-meant comments actually hurt when the loss is fresh. Since then I have just been simply saying, “I am so sorry.”

Sister Thomasita Homan, also of Mount St. Scholastica, said, “I’m with you in your sadness.”  (Atchison Blue, page 43.)

I like that, and that is what I will say in the future.

It acknowledges that there is deep sadness. Those words also speak of being present with the person. It’s not about doing, although, of course, sometimes it really helps to “do” things, like bring food and paper products, provide transportation or other needs.

But more than doing, it’s about being. Walking along side someone, even if you are not physically present. And those words tell the person that you are sad, too.

Easter is about the end of death because Jesus is alive. I believe that with all my heart.

In times of loss, having someone walk with you is the way God intended it to be. None of those women mentioned in Mark’s Gospel went alone to the tomb. They supported each other. And that is what we need, too: someone who is with us in our sadness.