Lament for a Son

“We took him too much for granted. Perhaps we all take each other too much for granted. The routines of life distract us; our own pursuits make us oblivious; our anxieties and sorrows, unmindful. The beauties of the familiar go unremarked. We do not treasure each other enough.”

Wolterstorff uses parallel structure to list the various ways people become distracted from valuing each other. The repetition of “too much for granted” emphasizes regret and serves as a cautionary message to readers. This passage stresses the preciousness of life, while also critiquing societal values that prioritize individual pursuits over relationships.

“When we gather now there’s always someone missing, his absence as present as our presence, his silence as loud as our speech. Still five children, but one always gone.”

These lines convey the persistent void left by loss. Wolterstorff employs paradox (“absence as present,” “silence as loud”) to emphasize how keenly felt Eric’s absence is. The juxtaposition of “five children” with “one always gone” creates a tension between what should be and what is. This quote explores the motif of absence and the reshaping of family dynamics after loss, while also touching on the permanence of Grief and Intentional Remembrance.

“To us soft, small, fragile, unsurefooted creatures scrambling over them, the mountains are menacingly indifferent.”

This quote contrasts human vulnerability with the impassive strength of nature. Wolterstorff uses a string of adjectives to emphasize human frailty, juxtaposing this with the personification of mountains as “menacingly indifferent.” This creates a sense of the sublime, of awe-inspiring yet terrifying nature. The passage touches on the concepts of human mortality and the indifference of the natural world, providing context for Eric’s fatal accident.

“It won’t stop; it keeps on going, unforgiving, unrelenting. The gears and brakes are gone. There’s nothing I can do to make it stop. Farther back and farther yet, back into the dimming past. The gap begins to gape.”

Here, Wolterstorff expresses the relentless nature of time. He uses mechanical metaphors (“gears and brakes”) to convey it as an unstoppable force. The repetition of “stop” emphasizes the speaker’s desperation and powerlessness. The alliteration in “gap begins to gape” aurally reinforces the sense of an ever-widening chasm. These lines suggest the irreversibility of loss and the anguish of separation, capturing the overwhelming nature of grief.

“Each death is as unique as each life. Each has its own stamp. Inscape. The tree in Hopkins’s garden had an inscape, but so did the felling of the tree. And one child’s death differs from another not in the intensity of the pain it causes but in the quality. To see a young life wither and die is as painful as to see it snapped off.”

This quote emphasizes Each Experience of Death as Unique, a central theme in Lament for a Son. Wolterstorff borrows the term “inscape” from poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, using it to convey the unique essence of each death. The tree metaphor illustrates how the manner of death doesn’t diminish the pain, but alters its nature. This passage challenges the notion of a universal experience of grief, highlighting the personal and distinct quality of loss.

“I shall look at the world through tears. Perhaps I shall see things that dry-eyed I could not see.”

This statement reflects Wolterstorff’s embrace of grief as a lens through which to view the world, invoking his commitment to Grief and Intentional Remembrance. It suggests that sorrow can offer unique insights, challenging societal norms that often encourage suppressing grief. The expression of seeing “through tears” conveys both the pain of loss and the potential for newfound understanding, embodying the book’s exploration of grief as a transformative experience. This assertion also challenges societal norms surrounding gender, as Wolterstorff defiantly declares that he will display his sorrow, despite expectations that he will suppress it and remain stoic.

“We shall leave them out. We will not store the pots, not turn the photos. We will put them where they confront us. This as a remembrance, as a memorial.”

This quote illustrates Wolterstorff’s decision to actively remember his son rather than hide away painful reminders. The repetitive structure emphasizes his determination, while the term “confront” suggests both the pain and necessity of facing grief. This passage embodies the theme of Grief and Intentional Remembrance, portraying grief not as something to be overcome, but as an ongoing process of honoring and remembering the deceased.

“God made us embodied historical creatures and affirmed the goodness of that. We are not to yearn for timeless disembodiment. But this makes death all the more difficult to live with. When death is no longer seen as release from this miserable materiality into our rightful immateriality, when death is seen rather as the slicing off of what God declared to be, and what all of us feel to be, of great worth, then death is—well, not friend but enemy.”

Wolterstorff grapples with the theological implications of embodiment and death. He challenges traditional views of death as a release from physical existence, instead framing it as a severing of something inherently valuable. The shift from “friend” to “enemy” in describing death reflects the author’s struggle to reconcile his faith with his grief. This passage exemplifies the book’s exploration of how personal loss can challenge and reshape one’s theological understanding.

“Over there, you are of no help. What I need to hear from you is that you recognize how painful it is. I need to hear from you that you are with me in my desperation. To comfort me, you have to come close. Come sit beside me on my mourning bench.”

This quote addresses how to comfort the grieving. Wolterstorff emphasizes the importance of acknowledging pain and being present, rather than trying to fix or minimize the loss. The imagery of the “mourning bench” and the invitation to “come close” underscore the need for companionship in grief. This passage reflects the book’s broader message about the value of shared sorrow and the limitations of platitudes in the face of profound loss.

“The world looks different now. The pinks have become purple, the yellows brown. Mountains now wear crosses on their slopes.”

Wolterstorff expresses the profound shift in perception that grief causes. He uses color to convey how his son’s death has altered his view of the world: The transformation of vibrant colors (pinks and yellows) into more somber hues (purple and brown) symbolically represents the darkening of his outlook. The image of mountains wearing crosses alludes to the fact that Eric died on a mountain. This personification of mountains also emphasizes how all-encompassing grief can be, coloring every aspect of one’s perception. The short, declarative sentences create a tone of stark realization, reflecting the author’s newfound clarity about the changed nature of his world.

“I’ve become an alien in the world, shyly touching it as if it’s not mine. I don’t belong anymore. When someone loved leaves home, home becomes mere house.”

These lines capture the sense of displacement and alienation that grief can induce. Wolterstorff uses the metaphor of becoming an “alien” to express his feelings of disconnection from the familiar world around him. The image of “shyly touching” the world conveys a tentativeness and unfamiliarity in interacting with his surroundings. The statement “I don’t belong anymore” directly articulates the feeling of being out of place in a world that continues despite his loss. The final sentence compares the world to a home, suggesting that the absence of his loved one has stripped the world of its comfort and meaning, reducing it to mere physical space. This quote llustrates how grief can fundamentally alter one’s sense of belonging and connection to the world.

“I have been daily grateful for the friend who remarked that grief isolates. He did not mean only that I, grieving, am isolated from you, happy. He meant also that shared grief isolates the sharers from each other. Though united in that we are grieving, we grieve differently.”

This passage explores the paradoxical nature of grief as both a unifying and isolating experience. Wolterstorff acknowledges the obvious isolation between the grieving and the non-grieving, but more profoundly, he highlights the unexpected isolation that can occur even among those sharing in grief. The use of italics for “shared” emphasizes this surprising aspect. The author employs antithesis in juxtaposing unity and isolation, underscoring the complex dynamics of collective mourning. The final sentence succinctly captures a key theme of Lament for a Son: Each Experience of Death as Unique. This quote reflects on the social dimensions of loss, adding depth to the book’s exploration of grief’s multifaceted impact.

“Shalom is the fulness of life in all dimensions. Shalom is dwelling in justice and delight with God, with neighbor, with oneself, in nature. Death is shalom’s mortal enemy. Death is demonic. We cannot live at peace with death.”

Wolterstorff understands shalom as a comprehensive state of well-being and harmony (See: Index of Terms). The repetition of “Shalom is” emphasizes its all-encompassing nature. By positioning death as “shalom’s mortal enemy” and “demonic,” he establishes a stark contrast between life and death. The declarative tone in “We cannot live at peace with death” underscores the author’s rejection of facile acceptance of loss.

“I shall live with them. I shall accept my regrets as part of my life, to be numbered among my self-inflicted wounds. But I will not endlessly gaze at them. I shall allow the memories to prod me into doing better with those still living. And I shall allow them to sharpen the vision and intensify the hope for that Great Day coming when we can all throw ourselves into each other’s arms and say, ‘I’m sorry.’”

This passage reveals Wolterstorff’s approach to dealing with regret. The anaphora of “I shall” conveys determination and forward movement. Associating his regrets with his “self-inflicted wounds” communicates their painful nature. The author balances acknowledgment of past failings with a resolve to improve future relationships, demonstrating personal growth through grief. The final sentence introduces an eschatological perspective, offering hope for ultimate reconciliation.

“I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth and resurrecter of Jesus Christ. I also believe that my son’s life was cut off in its prime. I cannot fit these pieces together. I am at a loss.”

This quote starkly juxtaposes Wolterstorff’s enduring faith with the reality of The Tragedy of Unfulfilled Potential. The parallel structure of “I believe” statements emphasizes the tension between these beliefs. The expression of trying to “fit these pieces together” conveys the author’s struggle to reconcile his faith with his loss. The short, blunt final sentence, “I am at a loss,” succinctly expresses his bewilderment as he wrestles with unanswerable questions in the face of tragedy.

“I must explore The Lament as a mode for my address to God. Psalm 42 is a lament in the context of a faith that endures. Lament and trust are in tension, like wood and string in bow.”

Here, Wolterstorff introduces the concept of lament as a form of communication with God, alluding to the title of the book (See: Index of Terms). The capitalization of “The Lament” gives it weight and significance. By referencing Psalm 42, he grounds his personal experience in biblical tradition. The simile comparing the tension between lament and trust to “wood and string in bow” suggests that this tension is not only natural but necessary for faith to function, much like a bow needs both components to work. This quote encapsulates the book’s exploration of maintaining faith amidst profound grief.

“Faith is a footbridge that you don’t know will hold you up over the chasm until you’re forced to walk out onto it. I’m standing there now, over the chasm. I inspect the bridge.”

Wolterstorff uses the metaphor of a footbridge over a chasm to illustrate the nature of faith in the face of grief. In doing so, he portrays faith as something precarious and untested until one is forced to rely on it. The image of standing over a chasm evokes the sense of vulnerability and risk that comes with grief. The author’s inspection of the bridge suggests a critical examination of one’s beliefs when confronted with profound loss.

“And great mystery: to redeem our brokenness and lovelessness the God who suffers with us did not strike some mighty blow of power but sent his beloved son to suffer like us, through his suffering to redeem us from suffering and evil. Instead of explaining our suffering God shares it.”

This quote encapsulates Wolterstorff’s evolving understanding of God’s relationship to human suffering. The author presents the paradox of a God who chooses to share in suffering rather than eliminate it through power. The use of contrasts (“not strike some mighty blow” versus “sent his beloved son to suffer”) emphasizes the unexpected nature of God’s response to human pain. This passage reflects an important turning point in Wolterstorff’s musings—the point at which he conceptualizes a suffering God who empathizes with human anguish rather than remaining distant from it.

“The Stoics of antiquity said: Be calm. Disengage yourself. Neither laugh nor weep. Jesus says: Be open to the wounds of the world. Mourn humanity’s mourning, weep over humanity’s weeping, be wounded by humanity’s wounds, be in agony over humanity’s agony. But do so in the good cheer that a day of peace is coming.”

Wolterstorff contrasts Stoic philosophy with Jesus’s teachings to illustrate different approaches to suffering. Wolterstorff uses parallel structure to highlight the difference between detachment and engagement. The repetition in Jesus’s supposed words (“Mourn humanity’s mourning, weep over humanity’s weeping”) emphasizes the depth of empathy encouraged. The final sentence introduces a note of hope, balancing the heavy emotions with a forward-looking perspective. These lines reflects the book’s theme of engaging fully with Grief and Intentional Remembrance while maintaining hope for future redemption.

“For we all prize and love; and in this present existence of ours, prizing and loving yield suffering. Love in our world is suffering love. Some do not suffer much, though, for they do not love much. Suffering is for the loving. If I hadn’t loved him, there wouldn’t be this agony.”

The author explores the intrinsic connection between love and suffering, using concise, declarative sentences to present this relationship as a fundamental truth. The paradox of “suffering love” evokes a central concept from the book: That deep love inevitably leads to deep pain when loss occurs. The personal admission at the end grounds this philosophical observation in the author’s own experience, adding emotional weight to the intellectual argument. This passage reflects the book’s overarching exploration of the nature and meaning of suffering in human existence.

“So I shall struggle to live the reality of Christ’s rising and death’s dying. In my living, my son’s dying will not be the last word. But as I rise up, I bear the wounds of his death. My rising does not remove them. They mark me. If you want to know who I am, put your hand in.”

Here, Wolterstorff expresses the struggle to find meaning and hope in the face of devastating loss. He draws a parallel between his experience and Christ’s resurrection, using it as a metaphor for his own journey through grief. The phrase “death’s dying” suggests a defiance of death’s finality, while “my son’s dying will not be the last word” expresses a determination to find purpose beyond loss. The author’s use of Christ’s words to Thomas (“put your hand in”) equates his wounds of grief with Christ’s physical wounds. This emphasizes how deeply the loss has affected him and become part of his identity. The repetition of “rising” underscores the ongoing nature of this struggle, highlighting the tension between moving forward and carrying the weight of loss.

“Is there something more to say than that death is the mortal enemy of peace? Can suffering over death—not living at peace with death but suffering in the face of death—bring peace?”

This quote shows how Wolterstorff grapples with the paradoxical nature of grief and its potential outcomes. The rhetorical questions invite contemplation of the complex relationship between suffering and peace. The juxtaposition of “mortal enemy of peace” with the possibility that suffering might “bring peace” highlights the tension at the heart of the grieving process. The emphasis on “suffering” through italics underscores the active, often agonizing nature of grief, as opposed to passive acceptance. This quote exemplifies the book’s examination of difficult existential questions, maintaining a tone of open inquiry rather than offering easy answers.

“That the radiance which emerges from acquaintance with grief is a blessing to others is familiar, though perplexing: How can we treasure the radiance while struggling against what brought it about? How can we thank God for suffering’s yield while asking for its removal? But what I have learned is something stranger still: Suffering may be among the sufferer’s blessings. I think of a former colleague who, upon recovering from a heart attack, remarked that he would not have missed it for the life of him.”

Wolterstorff continues to examine the complex and often contradictory nature of suffering. He acknowledges the common idea that surviving hardship can inspire others, but he pushes this concept further by suggesting that suffering might also benefit the sufferer. The series of rhetorical questions highlights the paradoxical nature of finding value in pain while simultaneously wishing to avoid it. The use of the word “radiance” to describe the outcome of grief creates a striking contrast with the darkness typically associated with suffering. The anecdote about his colleague provides a concrete example to support his abstract reasoning.