As we serve or march, we must not push away the necessary grief | Opinion

If you live in Nashville today, just a handful of days after the horrific shooting at The Covenant School, you’re likely experiencing life in a type of haze where nothing at all seems clear.  To say that people in my neighborhood feel violated, angry, and deeply sad this week is an understatement. We’re still living in shock.

Nevertheless, in the past few days our community has rallied with generosity as I’ve never seen it. Go Fund Me campaigns have raised 25 times the goal. Red and black bows don almost every mailbox, and I’ve received a barrage of texts about yard signs, stuffed animal collections, marches, walkouts, letter writing campaigns, phone calls to government officials, meal trains, and questions about gifts for teachers and security guards at my own daughters’ school.

Even with this outpour, we still wring our hands and lament that we are not doing enough, but the truth is we are not doing something very important.

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We are not mourning

While the above initiatives come about from a place of heartfelt concern and care, I fear they are also symptomatic of our collective inability to grieve. To be clear, action - both personal and political - is necessary. But so is grief. My worry is that in the abundance of our efforts we have left the stillness of sorrow out of our response. Grief looks like canceling your to-do list, not adding to it. Moreover, by refusing to sit in our despair, we fail to acknowledge our need for God.

Students at the all-girls private Harpeth Hall make red ribbons for mailboxes to honor the memories of the victims of the 2023 Covenant School shootings. Harpeth Hall received thousands of requests for the ribbons
Students at the all-girls private Harpeth Hall make red ribbons for mailboxes to honor the memories of the victims of the 2023 Covenant School shootings. Harpeth Hall received thousands of requests for the ribbons

My hunch is that in our world of immediate answers we do not give ourselves time to grieve because it’s too uncomfortable and uncertain. After all, God is most confusing when He is silent. Therefore, we deduce, if we can busy ourselves we do not have to feel what we worry might be His absence.

The importance of intentionally setting aside time to mourn is not a new concept, as our Jewish brothers and sisters have been sitting Shiva for centuries. Our Muslim friends have a similar custom called Hidaad.

Are we, fellow Christian in 2023, developing a ritual of busyness as a way to sideline suffering we don’t want to feel? To be sure, mourning is not dignified or Instagram worthy, but it is essential in relationship with God, especially in times of tragedy, for us to ask, "Where are you?”

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We do not have all the answers

When I worked as a pediatric chaplain, I was presented with a case that involved a toddler who was abused. When I left the child’s room, I walked on to the sixth floor balcony at Vanderbilt Children’s and, when I realized I was alone, I began to scream at God. “Where are you?” I yelled as tears streamed down my face. “I hate you. You could have done something and you didn’t. I don’t know if I believe you care.” In my sadness that moment, I did not believe God was God. To move forward, I needed to acknowledge my pain and sit in it, not busy it away. I must have sat on that balcony for hours.

Mary Cady Bolin
Mary Cady Bolin

If lashing out at your creator seems disrespectful, allow me to reassure you that God can handle your anger. In times where we feel despondent, questioning God is an appropriate emotional reaction, but it is key to note that our feelings of despair do not mean that God isn’t right here among us- always.

Going through the process of grief forces us admit that we do not have answers and that we are, at the end of the day, helpless. It is that vulnerability that will turn us toward God, especially in the Holy Week ahead.

I often think about that afternoon on the hospital balcony, and I imagine God is there. He looks into my eyes as I rail at Him and when I am exhausted and out of tears, He opens His arms and enfolds me in them.

May we commit to taking time today to wrestle with our feelings in stillness, remembering that God can handle our emotions. As we grieve may we remember that God holds our grief and our sadness, and that in the final analysis there is the promise redemption and restoration.

Mary Cady Bolin is a writer and pastor based in Nashville. She writes about spiritual life, current events, and family.

This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Covenant school shooting: We must not push away the necessary grief