silent vocation

yesterday, i was witness to one of the most sorrowful scenes in human life. burials.

well, to be more exact, it was a burial mass at a memorial chapel. i was requested to play the keyboards by a priest-friend who is a relative of the deceased. while it was certainly not my first funeral mass, what made the event more poignant and more moving was the fact that the little girl was only three years old and that the mother was due to give birth to her 3rd child anytime soon. that was why we weren't surprised to see an ambulance outside the chapel. the circumstances of the child's death are as to this writing still unknown. from what i gathered, the child was brought to the hospital last thursday having shown symptoms similar to having a flu. after a while she was discharged. by friday evening, she died.

during the part when family and friends were allowed to view the casket before it was brought to the cemetery, the entire room was in tears. i was particularly moved by the sight of the parents crying and embracing each other, trying to lend whatever strength they could muster to each other. i remembered having heard from an old priest that burying one's children is one of the greatest sorrows in being a parent. it is usually expected that children bury their parents and not the other way around.

i guess what really moved me about the event was the realization that had i been in the situation of the priest, i wouldn't know of anything to say to ease their pain. i realized that none of the principles i so deliriously studied in philosophy and theology would matter. if a person went over to the family and said, "hey, we're christians. we believe in the resurrection. so we have to believe that your child is in heaven. whatever pain your experiencing right now is caused by your imperfection, by your clinging to her. she was never yours anyway. she belongs to God", that person isn't a theologian. that person is a jerk. while what the hypothetical do-gooder said complies with every theological principle i know, the expression and timing is certainly most inappropriate and worse, inhumane.

i realized that there are times when even as theologians or students of theology, we are not required to always have something to say. theology is not about speaking but about listening. listening to God who speaks in the principles. listening to God in the history of the church. listening to God in the events of our lives.

listening involves being quiet.

and sometimes, it involves feeling pain in our hearts, and letting our tears flow. as i did while playing the keyboards during that funeral mass. i realized that i didn't have to have words to say to comfort the relatives of the deceased. they were good christians. they knew their theology. one just had to assure them that their tears were not uncalled for. that their grief was not misunderstood. that their sorrow was not beyond understanding. that their tragedy was not above compassion.

that their experience was not unheard of.

more than anything, our God is a God who listens to our lives. to our experiences and yes, sometimes, to our grief.

everyday, we are called to do the same.