O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.

(Hymn 56)

A couple of months ago, a good friend from a previous parish died. It hit me rather hard, and for several weeks after his death, I found that I had less energy. My work, my life for goodness sake, seemed less interesting and engaging. While I resisted the temptation, I found that I just wanted to sleep. People told me that I looked tired, and as I looked in the mirror, I had to acknowledge that they were right.

At its core, grieving is really about loneliness. When someone for whom we have cared deeply dies, we just feel a little bit more alone. Perhaps it is preparation for the final loneliness of our own terminus. As a person of faith, I cognitively rejoice in my friend’s entry into the next chapter of life, believing that he is in fuller connection with the love and being of God. To be honest, though, my feelings are more pokey than my beliefs. My heart still “mourns in lonely exile.” I have lost a friend, and somehow it feels as if I have lost a chunk of myself in the process.

This sort of loneliness is odd. The truth is that I am far from alone. I have a family and friends. I am part of a parish community full of people that I care for and who care for me. My life is full of interesting and good things. I can’t quite come to terms with the loneliness that I am feeling.  

My hunch is that the lives of the ancient Israelites who longed for Emmanuel were full of good things as well. Certainly, they experienced difficult days, but I am confident that most also had families and friends and work and food and shelter. They had their faith and the many stories of their faithful God. And yet they yearned for a Messiah anyway.

It seems we are often yearning, always longing, never satisfied. Saint Augustine once said that “our souls are restless until they rest in [God].” Particular times when we are experiencing the loss of a loved one remind us of our restlessness, but I think that it is true all of the time. We may have people all about us and many close to us, and yet, we feel so separate and alone.

My friend is in a better place. I really do believe it. He is now without the pain and the struggle. He has entered a new kind of life in which loss itself is lost, where all is restored and all separation overcome. Those of us who are still living have yet to experience the fullness of the Kingdom that Jesus inaugurated, but our longing hearts bear witness to the sweetness that is to come. God promises that our mourning in lonely exile shall not persist because the exile itself has ended. We shall, indeed, come to understand with our hearts and minds and bodies the great truth that those who have died know already and fully… that all are in Christ, and Christ is in all, and no one is left in lonely exile.

~Father Art