When I was serving as a pastor, I tried to make an initial call to grieving families as soon as possible after a loss. I would express my condolences and tell grieving family members that there was plenty of time to make plans in regards to a funeral. My first visit was just to sit with the family and listen. Often I would jot a few notes to myself as I sat.

For nearly 20 years, I served as a suicide first responder. I was part of a team of volunteers who responded whenever a coroner determined that a suicide had taken place. We would go to the surviving family members as soon as possible, often in the middle of the night. We would explain coroner procedures, deliver packets of information on suicide grief and support services, and, as was the case with families in my congregation, to sit with those who were grieving.

Through those experiences, I learned a lot about grief. I also learned a lot about crafting meaningful funeral services. In the case of the suicide responses, I usually attended the funeral, but did not officiate. When I officiated as a pastor, my role was different. I became a public spokesperson for the family, sharing their grief and their love for the one who had died. I often told stories that the family had shared with me in ways that were meaningful to both the family and to the wider community.

Those experiences have given me a perspective on some of the origins of the Gospels in our Christian bible. I have noticed that each Gospel has a different perspective. In Matthew, there is a flood of stories. Jesus’ parables come one after another, as if a group of people were sitting around telling stories of Jesus: “Remember when Jesus said . . . ?” “Yes, and he also said . . .” Mark’s Gospel seems to drive quickly towards the story of the crucifixion. Once again, it is easy to imagine Jesus’ friends sitting together in their grief and going over the details of the death. Luke seems to want to collect and tell as many stories about Jesus as possible. The stories are blended with the same writer’s stories in Acts to present a more comprehensive picture - to tell more than just Jesus stores, but also the stories of how his life impacted others. And John tells the story in the midst of somewhat more esoteric theological reflections. He uses more metaphoric language and has a more poetic tone. Each gospel has its own personality, but each represents a style of remembering and telling stories that I have observed in my interactions with grieving people.

When a death occurs, those who are most closely affected gather together. When it has fallen to me to inform someone of the death of a loved one, there is an initial period, perhaps 20 minutes or so, of shock and anguish. People cry. They sometimes sit or even fall to the floor. They ask questions without listening to the answers. They do not remember what they are being told. But that period of time doesn’t last very long. After a few minutes, they become open to support. They become capable of listening to information given. In many cases, their support community begins to gather. The grieving persons may make phone calls, or family and friends receive the news from other sources and begin to gather. Neighbors drop in with a gift of food or words of compassion. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, healing begins.

One of the deep gifts of being trusted to enter into another person’s grief is that of being able to witness healing in its earliest stages.

I think of Holy Saturday as the day of initial grief. I imagine the disciples gathering. Perhaps a couple of them decide to take a walk. None of them is able to engage in any business as usual. Their lives have been disrupted. Their usual work and even common chores like preparing meals is suspended. They sit and talk in low voices. They share their grief. And like families who have experienced a death, they begin to tell stories.

All of the Gospels give insight into the grief of the early disciples. But in some ways, I have found Matthew’s version to be particularly reminiscent of a family gathered in the depths of grief. The stories seem to flood out. Sometimes in no particular order. I know the writer of the Gospel did some organizing and arranging of the stories to group them together. But there is a bit of rawness to the ways the stories are told.

Going through Holy Week is a very good way to practice the process of grief. Many of us have known seasons of grief in our lives. For us, thinking of the community of Jesus and their grief at his crucifixion reminds us of our own personal grieving. We note that grief is always a part of our lives. We don’t get over the deaths of those we love. We continue to grieve in ways for the rest of our lives. For those who have not had a close personal experience with grief, observing the services and rituals of Holy Week can be a way to practice for the inevitable time when grief enters their lives. It will come. It does to all of us. Practice can make the process a bit less painful. Returning to grief as part of the annual cycle of the church calendar can remind us all of the role of loss and grief in our lives. It helps us make sense of our experiences.

Today is the waiting day. After Good Friday and the Tenebrae services, after the candles have been extinguished and the congregation has gone home, the time comes to simply sit and wait. Because we have lived through the cycle of services for so many years, we know that Easter is coming. We have anticipation about tomorrow’s sunrise. But that is not today. Today is a time to wait. And it is a good time to tell stories. It is a good time to simply listen.

May the stories of this day bring meaning to your grief and healing to your life.