Scripture this week begins with the telling of the death of David's son, Absalom, and of David's mourning for his son. "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!" In the paper this morning, the photo of a mother, grieving for her sixteen year old son, drowned in the Columbia River while swimming with friends. A name given - is he our Carlos - the one who used to attend Scouts? Is he our young man? We don't even know yet - but we weep with that mother, "O Carlos, my son, my son, Carlos!"
And from there we go to Psalm 130, known by its Latin name, "de profundis", out of the depths.
"Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!" The Psalms are my refuge when I no longer have the words to speak to God. One of the psalmists will have found those words, voiced them already, and they are collected for me to use, for us to use as community. The "de profundis", often used in funeral masses, is one I return to, time and time again, at times of loss, tragedy, or sin. It reminds me, not only that others also experience the depths, from which it seems we can scarcely be heard, but it reminds me as well that my hope is in the Lord. I am called to watch and to wait for God's steadfast love, and power to redeem.
But the losses are no less profound - the depths are no less deep - the sensation that we are not connecting with God is no less present. When I am in the depths, "de profundis", I am indeed profoundly moved - but I am often also immobilized. Each person responds differently to tragedy, to loss, to separation. I tend to respond with an inability to respond. It is then that I count on a praying community to hold me. It is then that I depend upon those who love me and care about me to hold me up before God, offering me their strength, their prayers. And through the steadfastness of that community, I am able again to voice my own complaints, my own praises and my own laments to God.
It is a holy thing, to do this for someone else. To enter into their depths, their lament, and offer them to God as if they are your own - that is sacred work. May you enter into that work, as God calls you to enter it, and offer your voice when your friend, companion, or loved one no longer has the ability to voice for themselves their lament. Allow yourself to be profoundly moved by others, and bring them, with a full voice, before God.
