In the months that have followed our grandson’s suicide, the subject of lament has dominated much of my thinking. It is reasonable to anticipate an encounter with lament in the midst of such a tragedy. Our grief was saturated with expressions of lament at a depth we had never experienced before. However, my primary motive for continued inquiry comes not so much from experiencing lament, but, the absence of lament.
In a post entitled “Intersections – Grief”, I wrote this paragraph:
Hopeful of some mystical elixir that would heal my grief, I attended church the following Sunday. What I encountered in worship was revealing. I did not experience comfort. The songs and music were offensive. The atmosphere of jubilance was hollow. Instead of feeling the embrace of community, I felt very alone and isolated.
I was deeply disappointed. I needed and hoped to receive solace, but departed with unrequited grief. The worship presentation was not unusual in any discernible way. An ordinary Sunday morning worship experience became inexplicably alien. As always, I was nagged by the question, why?
Perhaps, grief had impacted the chords of my heart in such a way that what had previously been harmonious was suddenly discordant. Certainly the tragic and unexpected circumstances of our grief was unprecedented for us. What I have come to conclude is, that, in fact, that Sunday worship was ordinary. It was worship as expected, even more than expected, required. What became apparent that morning was the prevalence of a culture of celebration. My grief filtered out, what would have, on any other Sunday, been an encouraging, affirming experience. I was left with silence. There was no place for lament that my soul desperately needed.
Those who live in celebration “are concerned with questions of proper management and joyous celebration .” Instead of deliverance, they seek constancy and sustainability. “The well-off do not expect their faith to begin in a cry, but rather, in a song. They do not expect or need intrusion, but they rejoice in stability [and the] durability of a world and social order that have been beneficial to them.” Praise is the language of celebration. Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times
My initial response was to minimize the issue and rationalize the absence of lament. However, as I began to read and study on the subject of lament, I found I was not alone in my concern. Numerous writings by scholars and theologians over centuries of Christian history have grappled with lament and its role in in the faith of the individual and community.
Richard Beck, writing in reference to Emmanuel Kant’s views on lament presents a challenging critique of lament in Christian culture:
If you live with a view of God that guarantees that your faith and virtue will be rewarded then, for Kant, your faith is simply self-interest. Again, virtue cannot exist for Kant if the outcome is guaranteed. If reward and eternal bliss are sure bets, well, can you really be praised for taking a non-existent risk?
This is really a profound critique of much of what is happening in Christian culture. For example, many have lamented (no pun intended) the excessive praise-orientation in much of popular Christian worship. Much of Christianity is triumphalistic. Health and wealth visions of the gospel are also very popular. By being a Christian we can get Our Best Life Now!
We often see these trends as symptoms of superficiality. But Kant’s critique hits harder. It is not just that these forms of Christianity are emotionally shallow. Kant shows that these praise-dominated faith systems are void of all authenticity. For when the links between virtue and happiness are fully in hand faith demands nothing of us. Religion reduces to expressions of human self-interest and selfish calculation. Kant calls this idolatry.
The flip side of the equation is that true authenticity is found in a faith full of lament. It’s not just that lament is emotionally “deeper” or more “real” than the emotions of praise. Rather, lament is expressed in the face of evil, in a world where the links between virtue and happiness have broken down. Thus, to have faith or to act with virtue in a world of lament calls upon something more than self-interest. Faith and virtue have no guarantees in the experience of lament. Thus, for Kant, only faith and virtue expressed from lament are truly authentic.
Thinking about the assertion that “true authenticity is found in a faith full of lament”, I would suggest that what the worship I experienced that Sunday morning was at its core, inauthentic. My conclusion is not a judgement based on the motives or hearts of the participants. Rather, it comes from the reality that many, if not most, of the hearts of those present on any given Sunday are broken or wounded and need to voice their complaint to a God who cares. To the extent that is true, worship without lament will be inauthentic.
If you dwell excessively in the world of Psalm 1 and never live in the world of lament can you be living an authentic Christian life?
I feel if I have only touched the tip of the lament iceberg . More to come.
