Get the Ricochet app
Ricochet will work fine in a browser on your mobile devices, but for the best experience please download our app.
A couple of decades ago, when my father died, my mom, my brothers and sisters (and spouses) and I gathered in the office of the pastor of my parents' church to plan my father's memorial service.
There was some time taken for choosing hymns and assigning roles. But mainly, we told stories. We talked about our long car trips and how Dad would let us know we were only stopping for gas and would note the pot that was there for any emergency bodily functions. We talked about how he ate an apple, consuming everything but the stem. We did imitations of his laugh (with a snort) and his sneeze ("Ahhh...ahhh...chewie!"). We laughed. A lot. And we cried a lot — Mom, who loved Dad dearly, as much as anyone.
The church was packed for my father's service, people from my father's church, work, neighborhood, community. There was an open time of sharing, with people telling of my father's integrity, humor, compassion and kindness. During that service, like the family meeting with the pastor, there were tears and much laughter.
I've been thinking about that time as I observe social media managing to hit even greater lows than it has managed in the past.
When Erika Kirk gave her powerful online address days before the memorial service, she spoke about how the work of her husband would carry on and that she would be a part of that work. Some online suggested that if she was really grieving, she would never have been able to think about carrying on her husband's "fascist" work. (As a believer, I'm sure that Erika Kirk's strength comes from the Holy Spirit.)
At the memorial, Erika Kirk gave an even more remarkable address. While even Bill Maher and Jimmy Kimmel are acknowledging the grace of Erika Kirk in forgiving her husband's killer, there are jackals online mocking this woman in her grief.
The most inane and vile posts I've seen are those that post a picture of Erika Kirk smiling with such comments as, "So this is what a grieving widow looks like?!?" Of course, they're just as likely to post a picture of the widow in tears and comment that it's obviously just an act, all part of her mad grab for power and sympathy (for no one has more power in their world than victims).
This has all led me to think of some words of Jesus. (As, really, any situation of any gravity should lead us to think of the words of Jesus.) The following is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 7:
31 Jesus went on to say, “To what, then, can I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? 32 They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling out to each other:
“‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not cry.’
33 For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon.’ 34 The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ 35 But wisdom is proved right by all her children.”
I think Erika Kirk has remarkably shown wisdom and compassion in her darkest hour, all while her many critics are showing themselves to be children of darkness.
(FWIW, I wrote a post earlier in the year about grief in reference to my work as a hospice chaplain.)
This post was promoted to the Main Feed at the recommendation of Ricochet's members.
Discussion (17)
To read this bio, please join Ricochet.
And they seem quite proud of it, too. I saw a clip with a woman who imitated Erika's speech forgiving the assassin and then she grinned as if what Erika was doing were merely acting. People can be real crapapples.
To read this bio, please join Ricochet.
"Critiquing" a widow. I admire your restraint in language use for people mocking her, wishing her ill, and celebrating death.
To read this bio, please join Ricochet.
There is ordinarily a distinction between Christian missionary work and what we think of as community friendship with others who may engage in activities not endorsed by active Christians. We still witness the activities that make up that distinction even when not participating in them and we may choose not to associate. I think most here can figure out what I'm referencing.
To read this bio, please join Ricochet.
If you're trying to hide it from the non-cognoscente, you're doing it well.
To read this bio, please join Ricochet.
Yes, that does happen because it relates to things I don't do. They're hard to see.
You're seeing five of 17 comments. Sign in, or join for just $5 per month, to read them all and add your own.