What becomes of the brokenhearted? The question is posed in Jimmy Ruffin’s song from the 1960’s. The anguish that is experienced in our lives often seems unbearable. We are alone in our grief. The abandonment and sense of being forsaken increase our desperation and we want to flee into the night. Good Friday brings this suffering to us without apology. It does not offer relief. Jesus stretches out his arms only to find them nailed to a cross. Simon carries his cross only to be mocked and rejected. The women weep without consolation. Still, there is an offering of hope. Jesus sees the grief and gives us a way through it. He says to his mother “Woman, behold your son” and to his friend John, “This is your mother”.What becomes of the brokenhearted? Good Friday gives them to us. We are responsible for them even as uncomfortable as it may seem. We are asked to be present. I experienced this when my own mother died many years ago. Her death was tragic and I felt like I was to blame. There was nothing that brought me any relief. We gathered at her house after the funeral. I was busy going from person to person trying to be a host of some kind. There was a frantic need to keep busy. As I rushed past the love seat in the living room, our cousin Jane Sandusky caught my eye and patted the empty seat next to her. I hesitated and then plopped down. My attempt to talk was met with a gentle “Shhh”. She took my hand, put it in her lap, and held it. There were no assurances from her that “everything will be okay” or platitudes of “it is not your fault”. She just sat there quietly and allowed me to grieve in silence. It was the most powerful expression of consolation and compassion that I have ever received.
It is true that nothing lasts forever. We can move through the pain and suffering. We can offer and receive compassion.
