“Joyful are those in mourning; because, they will be comforted” (Matthew 5.4).
As I write this, none of those close to us have been infected with this virus that has upended our lives. No one close to us has died—not of this virus—this year. We mourn, like so many, but not in that way. Not in the way over a quarter-million families are mourning this All Saints Day.
Even so, I find Jesus’ words ones too easy to stumble over. Whatever could he mean? How can he possibly say that all those grieving in this terrible year are joyful?
I imagine many of those who have lost loved ones feel as the writer of Psalm 137 did. “Sing us a song of Zion,” the captors say to the Psalmist. The Babylonians who have taken the citizens of Judah into captivity far from home taunt the people, demanding mirth. “How can we sing the Holy One’s song in a strange land?” The Psalmist replies.
Despite the spiking cases, the weekly toll of five-thousand souls who are lost, there are many who want the grieving to sing. Come, go to the restaurant, go to the bars. Come, we need to get back to normal. Come on, sing with us as if nothing is wrong, as if nothing has changed.
How can anyone sing in this strange, strange land? Don’t they see? Don’t they care? Can’t they see that every song, every dance keeps us here another day? Don’t they know this will just keep on and on if they do not stop?
Don’t they hear the crying of those who are in mourning?
Jesus’ words upon the mount are not mocking words. They are true words, comforting words that speak of reality, but not the reality we are accustomed to seeing. Jesus is not pointing to the world—broken, wounded—that we think is all there is. The One is revealing a world that is being made new, and what it means to live in that world.
Why, then, are the mourning joyful? What is it about this new reality that kindles joy to burn amidst the winter of grief?
They will be comforted, Jesus tells us. They will not watch and listen to so many say their losses, their sorrow does not have meaning. They will not have voices telling them, as their world has changed so drastically, that they must, they must get back to normal.
Instead, they will have arms reach out to them. They will hear silence into which they can speak. They will see the nods that agree that no, nothing will ever be the same again.
Joy, Jesus promises, because the mourning will no longer be shifted out of sight, tolerated for a day before being told to get on with life. Joy, the One tells us, because others—strangers, family, friends—will recognize that something precious has been lost.
Joy is what we can give amidst so much loss.