A Communal Lament

A month or so ago I reached out to my social media community asking them to participate in creating a communal lament. There is so much going on in our lives right now (communal, private, public, etc.) that I felt acknowledging those hurts and cries as a community could not only be powerful, but also help us see that there is still community to be found in the midst of our hurts. 

Below is the communal lament that I wrote based on the submissions I received. I hope it will be a gift to each person who reads it and that it will remind us that we are not alone in our suffering, even when it may feel like it. 

Thank you for allowing me to share in your hurts with you. Working on this has been a humbling, heart breaking, beautiful, and even hope filled, experience. I hope it will bring you some comfort, give you the space to acknowledge any sadness or hurt, and bring you hope for the future ahead as we continue to look for God's presence in the midst of life's joys and sorrows.

Peace to you,

Katelyn 

A Communal Lament

Written by Katelyn Hargrave with lament submissions from her social media community.

The resulting lament holds quotes and themes from twenty-eight submissions, as well as quotes from various Psalms of lament, and some original content.

Responses gathered in July 2020. Lament written August 30, 2020.

 

We have heard of your goodness and steadfast love, O God.

            In fact, many of us have seen your goodness and love time and again.

And yet, here we are, crying out to you.

 

We have heard the stories of liberation of the Israelites, redemption of Paul, and promises of new creation throughout Your written word, and yet – here we are, crying out to you and wondering where you are.

And in some cases instead of lament we cry, “Oh, for the mental space to articulate a lament!”

 

We long for the day where we can honestly say “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised!”

            But for now, we lament and say “How long, O Lord? Seriously, how much longer?”

 

“God in heaven, you are the El Roi: the God who sees. You see the suffering of your creation. You see the divisions, the tensions, the loss, and the injustice.

            You are also a God who acts, choosing to become incarnate, to suffer with.

We need your heart in place of ours.

Help us to see, love, and step into suffering for the sake of Your name and Your creation.”

 

See us!

Be with us!

Heal us!

 

We mourn “the loss of empathy in our country. The loss of putting others first.” Our “hearts ache at the posture ‘get mine’ and ‘my rights’ with no thought of the other.

            We mourn the loss of a communal and loving spirit.”

“We are deeply saddened by the lack of compassion in the world today.”

 

We lament that we Americans “have been so willfully ignorant of the suffering of our brothers and sisters, and so afraid of suffering ourselves, that we are willing to kill each other to maintain the illusion of discipleship.”

 

We lament the racial injustices our brothers and sisters have experienced. In the words of one, “(I lament...) the racial injustices I have experienced most of my life, and my mother only realizing the validity of them once George Floyd was murdered.”

            We lament not hearing our black communities.

 

We are grieved that our “children have to bear so much.”

That “my son won’t know the excitement of the typical first day of kindergarten.”

That “(our) children have grown broken and needy, not fierce and determined. I (we) long to be less needed.”  

            “I wish my family had the ability to spend time, regularly, as separate beings.”

While others of us long “to be able to spend time with family and friends.”

 

“How long, O Lord, until we can stop monitoring physical boundaries?”

 “We long for a regular rhythm.”

 

We lament “having to let go of family traditions and shared experiences, and having to isolate.”

            “It is tiring to live with the unknown and to have to place boundaries in hopes that we are doing what is best for those around us.”

 

We cry, “I miss human companionship and community. I am in uncharted waters in so many ways that I do not know where I’m headed – where we are all headed as people who share the planet.”

            And, “my deepest lament is the loss of the physical and emotional connection I usually experience...a hug, handshake, kiss, touch in the back or arm. All gestures that give us the ability to connect with others, especially our friends and family.”

 

We miss life before the Pandemic.

 

We “see the news and it tells (us) how many friends people have lost to the virus, but now how many friends people have lost to debates about the virus.”

We lament our loss of relationships, in all the ways that loss comes.

In that loss, some of us simply want to “hear my Mama sing again.”

 

In the midst of these communal experiences and hurts there are personal ones too...

Some of us feel like we are the very worst version of ourselves.

Some of us feel alone and like we will never be enough.

Some of us cry out that, “All of my close friends and family live far away and I miss being around people who really know and love me the way I am.”

Others of us, lament the years spent living with our bodies as our worst enemies.

Wondering “why now” and “why me” when illness strikes.

And others lament “the big life changes I was too slow and scared to make that have been put on hold.”

 

Our cries are personal and communal.

O Lord, hear our cries! Comfort our hearts!

 

Life is hard.

Jobs are unstable.

Life is fragile.

People don’t always seem to understand these things.

We lament that some of our fellow Americans do not see the trauma around them because

their own experiences have not been “as bad.”

We hate hearing “it could always be worse.”

Our trauma should not be pushed aside.

We need acceptance of our hurts.

God, help us to hear each other’s laments as real.

 

God, you are one who hears, who is with, who rescues...

            God, hear us! Be with us! Rescue us!

 

Hear our cries, O God, and listen to our prayers.

Do not be silent!

We are tired, exhausted, hurt, and worn.

“Lead me to the rock that is higher than I; for you are my refuge, a strong tower...”

O Lord, do not be far away!

Deliver and restore us.

Hear our cries, O God, be gracious to us and answer us.

 

We have “become like a broken vessel...”

“But (we) trust in you, O Lord;

            (Our) times are in your hand;

            Deliver (us) from the hand of (our) enemies and persecutors...

Let your face shine upon us and save us in your steadfast love.”

 

We wait on you Lord, trusting in your steadfast love

Give us courage,

We trust that you will heal, deliver, and show us your goodness.

“Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.”

Scott Erickson, The Sorrowful Saint, 2016