Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

It's Good Friday. And I know most people won't be reading blog posts today, which is good. But I wanted to say a few things I've been reflecting on this Lent, and seize the last chance for linking up with Remember O Thou Man. :)

One of the things that I've noticed this Lent especially is the beauty of sorrow. 

Our culture expects us to be happy all the time. Our culture expects us to want to be happy all the time. And yes, as humans, we do desire happiness, specifically eternal happiness.

But what we mean by the happiness we desire is a little different than the culture's definition. We desire the lasting deep joy of union with God, which is not an emotion, but more like a state of being. 

It's unrealistic for a human being to feel happy all the time. The repression of sorrow in our culture is actually, according to a Catholic therapist I know, a big problem, which can actually lead to depression, as all the repressed sorrow bursts to the surface. (*Disclaimer*: I am not a psychologist. This is just what I've heard. There are clearly other causes of depression, too. Don't come after me. XD)

The Church knows this. And so, she in her wisdom has given us penitential seasons. Seasons specifically dedicated to feeling sorrow. Specifically for our sins, but also in general. A time to mourn, in addition to the abundant time to rejoice. Seasons where we simplify things, we make things quieter and less fancy, in order to remember why we're here, to remember the simplicity that comes with death (doesn't get a lot simpler than your body quietly feeding plants and animals underground, while your soul is either in heaven, purgatory, or hell), and to have the space to think about our sins, examine our consciences, repent and sorrow for our sins, and be forgiven. There's time for quiet.

And Advent is lovely, but Lent has the added benefit of meditation on the Lord's Passion and mourning for Him. 

"Blessed are those who mourn", Christ says in the Beatitudes, "for they shall be comforted." 

I used to be confused about this statement, especially when I was little. How could people who mourn be blessed, even if they were comforted? Isn't mourning just...sad?

Well, yes. But also, no.

This Lent, I've been embracing the internal silence. I feel like I have often forced myself to *feel something*, especially to feel happiness, when I'm praying. But it's okay if I feel nothing. It's okay to have the silence, internally. I can be close to God in that silence and maybe even a little sorrow. 

Stations of the Cross have been especially fruitful. It feels weirdly good to be able to enter into the sorrow of Christ's Passion on a regular basis. I've always loved the Stations, but this year for some reason, it's accentuated.

There's a blessedness in the sorrow and the mourning. We must mourn for Christ. He is the one who we should love most in the world, and he died in horrible pain, because of our sins.

If we couldn't mourn that, something would be wrong.

But in addition to the reassurance of love through mourning, it feels restful. To realize that there's no need to be happy all the time, that it's okay to be sad, to be able to relax into the sadness, and to be there. To breathe there. It feels like something I needed. Because maybe I did. Maybe I needed the space to be a little sad. That is, after all, one of the reasons why we have Lent. I'm especially mourning not being home for the Triduum. It's maybe the first time I've felt really homesick, and while it's not my favorite thing, it also reminds me how much I love home. Which is good for me. And I can give that sadness to God.

Blessed are those who mourn.

Today is the day of the most mourning, the most sorrow. Today is the day that He died in horrible pain because of our sins. We mourn for him, and we mourn our sins that caused His painful death. 

The statues are veiled.

There's a lot of silence.

There's no Mass.

And yet, we've read the story. We know how it ends. We enter into Good Friday, because it is important for us to mourn, and to be part of the story, the re-presentation. Because we know that it happened for us, that it's represented at every Mass, that we are part of the sacrifice.

But I don't think it's a spoiler for me to say that we know that joy is coming on Sunday. And that joy is all the greater because of the mourning. 

Can you imagine Easter without Lent? 

I can't. Mourning makes the comforting greater, more joyful. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for their mourning will make their comforting all the more wonderful.

Blessed are those who mourn, for their cups will be filled to overflowing. 

Blessed are we who mourn today, for it is what we need, and joy comes with the Radiant Dawn on Sunday.