Marking Easter in the company of depression

Unlike Christmas when the mood of anticipation is ever upward, the Easter journey encompasses a wide spectrum of emotions. The growing tensions as Jesus enters Jerusalem, challenges the authorities in the temple and talks of death. The betrayal by Judas, one of Jesus' inner circle on the Thursday, other friends flee, there is a mock trial and a baying crowd. Humiliation, pain and death for Jesus. Grief, loss and confusion for his friends and followers - and his mother.   

Most of the range of human emotions are here, places to connect with the journey for people facing all sorts of situations. And the traditional Holy Week services encourage us to face all the different stages, to embrace those emotions.

Then after the waiting of Saturday we arrive at the 'first day of the week' - Sunday - and it is all Alleluias, and the proclamation that 'He is Risen' - the tomb is empty and Christ is alive. Wonder, awe and celebration are the themes, but should we forget the pain before? Is it like the claim about childbirth all forgotten in the face of a new life?

For some it seems so - as the churches together gathered midday Friday for an outdoor service a colleague from a different church tradition spoke on the victory of the cross, and how Jesus' death brings freedom from guilt, fear, sin and general misery and a saving from hell. Traditional enough Christian doctrine but to gloss over the suffering of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday felt like a glossing over of the pain of this world. A world that sees bombs in Brussels and Lahore, sees people facing death, sees people feeling despair. The message of the incarnation is that God came to be in this world with us, even to the point of knowing death.   Mere victory speeches take away from this message of God with us, and are like rushing from the entry to Jerusalem with cheers, to Easter morning.

As someone living with depression I find links with the Thursday in the garden, a long night of mental distress for Jesus whilst friends didn't understand and though trying to be with him fall asleep. Others may feel other connections, my point is that the full journey is important.

Yet in the Methodist Worship book the Easter morning prayer of confession says -

The empty tomb is in the shadow of the cross,
and the new life doesn't obscure the cross still present.

If we have fallen into despair
Lord, forgive us

If we have failed to hope in you
Lord,forgive us

If we have been fearful of death
Lord, forgive us

If we have forgotten the victory of Christ 
Lord forgive us

I know from discussing this online that some have found comfort in these words, but for me they feel like a stark rejection of the emotions that we have been invited to share on the journey through Holy Week, and for those who live with those emotions is it a rejection of our experiences too?   In my depression I can feel despair, can lack hope - these are symptoms of an illness not sin to be forgiven.

There are some corners of the Christian church where mental ill health is seen as spiritual not as an illness, one group locally even producing a booklet about the dangers of psychology and psychiatry, and that self pity is a sin of selfishness.  But they are not the majority and I am sure the compilers of the Methodist Worship Book (1999) did and do not hold such extreme views.  Maybe in the midst of depression I am over reacting to words that do not trouble others - but I could not offer those prayers with my congregation on Easter Day, and I wonder what message others like me might hear on what maybe their biannual church visit.

The empty tomb and sighting of the risen Christ on the first Easter are to be celebrated, but those who lived then needed time to understand, and gently Jesus gives them that time over 40 days of encounters to guide and reassure them.  And he showed the marks, even in resurrection glory the pain was not forgotten or dismissed, but part of the new hope

The pastoral visit

As a minister part of my role is to visit, especially those not able to join us at church.  Living with depression, as an introvert and probably with roots in my disconnect from others when bullied throughout school - I find this the hardest thing I face in the job. This is a poem that expresses how it feels when I am unwell and trying to visit -

It’s not you it’s me – the pastoral visit

I come into your home, your space

You welcome me, grateful that I have come

The church has come with bread and wine.

You deserve my attention

Care to the tales you tell

The memories you recall

I turn my face to you

Nod and smile in hopefully the right places

I mustn’t show the scream inside

Don’t let the mask slip

It’s not you it’s me

And this is supposed to be your time

Your time - that I have put off again and again

Denied you my time

Because, because, because…. I am broken

Because my head is full of fuzz

Because though I can do the act from the front

One to one I don’t know the script

People may see me visiting you in your vulnerability

But I am the vulnerable one

And you can unmask me

I feel a fraud – pretending to be normal

When inside is a mass of chaos and the suppressed scream

I want to be home, safe in a duvet cocoon

But finally I have made it here

I sit still, I nod, I break bread

And countdown to when I can flee

It’s not you it’s me

Helen Roberts Feb 2016

All change....

Been away too long, in that time I have moved from my 6 rural churches to 4 churches in West Yorkshire in communities closer to town, and with textile mill heritage, but now commuter villages. There is still enough rural to see sheep in the fields and occasionally meet a tractor, and good walks for Gabi the dog, though hedges replaced with stonewalls. Yet with a big town and ring road within a couple of miles.

I have been here since August for a September start with the churches. I had forgotten how tiring it is when everything is new, the people, the way things usually happen, finding places you are due to be at - rediscovering that it is not miles that affect journey time but traffic.

Gabi and I am settling well, 7-8 months have gone so quickly. The moods come and go too, moving home may allow for a lot of clearing out but you take yourself with you warts and all.