by Chris Koellhoffer, IHM, March 23, 2019
Loss has been taking center stage in recent news coverage carrying images of natural disasters. Wildfires burning uncontrollably, devouring acres of forests and wiping entire towns off the map. Unrelenting rains triggering massive floods and mud slides. The faces of survivors, numbed by the enormity of what has been destroyed, combing through the ruins for precious mementos. I’m reminded of seeing my own sister many years ago sifting through the ashes of her home for irreplaceable photos of her three young boys. That’s the look of loss that haunts me and that I see repeated over and over in media coverage around the globe.
We’ve probably all experienced losing something in our lives: keys, phone, money, glasses, paperwork, and more. My own recent loss of a wallet (with a happy ending), paired with coverage of disasters and areas of conflict, triggered some musing on what it means to lose or be lost.
We refer to the childhood story of the boy Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:41-50) as one of loss, although in typical preteen response he shrugged his shoulders and told his anxious and emotionally drained parents that he was fine the entire time of their frantic searching. In Luke’s Gospel (15:4-32), the adult Jesus tells his version of loss: the sheep, the coin, the child. These might more aptly be named the parables of the lost and found, because in the heart of the Holy One, the search and the hope for safe return never ends, and the desire to welcome home never ceases.
We experience losses of various kinds in addition to material possessions and objects that are part of our everyday lives. We also name as losses illness, injury, and mental and physical diminishment that alter our ability to do what we once did. We may suffer the more subtle loss of a significant relationship that gradually grows distant or is fractured by misunderstanding or hurt. When a reputation is damaged or a trust is shattered, that loss can change the dynamics of how we are with one another. And certainly, death might be called the ultimate loss, resulting in the physical absence of a parent, friend, partner, loved one. We see clearly that part of the human family’s profound yearning is for restoration and repair and return.
This deep longing was visibly present in an episode of Britain’s Got Talent that featured as one of the entrants the Missing People Choir.
The choir is composed of people whose family members, mostly teenagers and young adults, have gone missing. Also in the choir are people who work to find the lost ones and people who support the work of searching for those lost or finding out what happened to them since their disappearance.
The choir was born out of profound grief and came from longing for a way to find meaning in a terrible tragedy, the tragedy of not knowing where their loved ones had gone. In singing, the choir remembers all of the mothers, fathers, partners, guardians, families whose arms ache for homecoming, who grieve for all that has been lost. They echo the consolation and hope of the poignant song, “The Place Where Lost Things Go,” from Mary Poppins Returns.
The Missing People Choir does not surrender their hope. They refuse to live as if present realities—no matter how full of despair—are ultimate. They console and comfort one another and offer the kind of support only those who carry this kind of grief and heartache can fully understand.
And then they sing. Together. They sing as if the disappeared are held in tender memory and in every note, pause, and vibration. They sing as if death and burial are not the end of the story. They sing as if resurrection has already happened.
Sometimes, you know, singing is all we can do. And sometimes, it is everything.
Sit in stillness with the Holy One.
Reflect on a person you love who has become lost to you in some way (e.g., death, separation, distance, differences).
Name what you are missing about this person.
Hold this person in the tender love of God.
Bless this remembering, and give thanks.
Thank you for your prayer supporting all who gathered for a Lenten Evening I led for the National Pastoral Musicians, Scranton Chapter, on March 12.
Now please hold in your prayer all who will be part of these events:
March 29-31: Directed Prayer Weekend at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Wernersville, PA. I’ll be one of the directors for the retreat.
April 7: Presentation for the Rosary Society of St. Mary’s Parish, Manhasset, NY.
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4 thoughts on “Singing in the Places of Loss”
I am sitting in St Patrick’s Church and am
moved to tears by your post… the idea of a choir formed from those who have lost loved ones gives joy to my soul… yes singing our pain, sorrow, loss and hope is a gift!!!
Thank you dear Chris
Linda, dear, of course your tender heart would be especially moved by the suffering and loss of others. May you continue singing through your own challenges in the days ahead.
I love your reflections for their content and your beautiful writing style. These words from the Missing People choir struck me “families whose arms ache for homecoming.” I prayed for them.
I also said thanks for a friend I used to have whose leaving is still a mystery to me. It made me appreciate her.
Thank you for your kind words and affirmation, Elise, and even more for sharing your beautiful practice of praying for those who are missing from our lives. My prayers for your friend as well.