I've been thinking about a story called “The Judgment of Solomon” in 1 Kings. Two women had two sons. One of the sons had been tragically, accidentally smothered in the middle of the night and only one son remained. Both women claimed the living son was theirs. The story goes, King Solomon said the best way to settle the matter was to cut the baby in half and give a piece to each mother. Of course, the actual mother pleaded with the King not to kill her baby, even if it meant she would not raise him. The grieving mother who had already lost her son said, "Cut him in two!"
This showed Solomon- and perhaps both women- to whom the child belonged.
I think about this story as it relates to unresolved grief, rage, and folks like Marjorie Taylor Greene. For MTG and others- perhaps even you- there is a profound sense of loss for “the way things were.”1 The way things were in America. The way things were in your church. The way things were in your family. In your work. Your personal life.
If that grief goes unresolved, it can turn into a manic, bloodthirsty rage; a rage that does not care about chopping up the lives of others because the life you had is gone and you’d rather everyone else feel that pain, too.
Oh yeah. I mentioned Marjorie Taylor Greene because of this tweet:
As soon as I read it, I thought of the grieving mother in 1 Kings. I thought of Solomon ordering for the living baby to be cut in half. I pictured both mothers’ eyes: one filled with terror, the other with rage. I thought about how unresolved grief can turn a person manic. Add to that politics, power, social media, money, and a 24/7 news cycle which feeds on clickbait. America is, in some ways, like a baby with a sword to our gut— this close to being cut in two.
But this post isn’t about Marjorie Taylor Greene. You know that.
In fact, my seminary is going through something similar. The person in charge is grieving his loss of power and our school is being sliced in two as a result. Rather than accepting his loss, this person would rather everyone else lose, too. Even when it’s at the expense of students, faculty, and staff. Yet, in stark contrast to this person’s grief-filled rage, there are others who are “deeply moved with love” (vs 26) and pleading to preserve the life of our institution.
But this post isn’t about my school. You know that.
I have been the mother in grief before- the person who would rather the whole thing die than someone else experience the life I wanted.
Have you? Is this ringing any bells?
Ash Wednesday is all about death: from dust you are and to dust you will return. All of us will die in the end, of course, but all of us also experience little deaths along the way. Today, I wonder what you are doing with those little deaths? What are you doing with all that grief? Is it sitting in you, unresolved? Is any of your grief simmering into rage?
Does any part of you want to slice the whole thing in two so nobody wins?
This post is about you and me. It’s about what we do with loss, grief, and death. Where do you find yourself in this story?
Sending my love to you!
-Savannah
Writing Prompt: Picture yourself in the story of Solomon’s Judgment in 1 Kings. Do you relate to one of the mothers? What situation comes up for you? What is God saying to you?
Recommended Reading: 1 Kings 3:16-28
I am intentionally not expanding on this because it would turn into a whole thing. But recognizing the experience of even perceived loss has been helpful for me in gaining empathy for folks like MTG who I struggle to find common ground with otherwise. I also want to recognize the loss she and others are experiencing is a good and necessary because white supremacy is from the pit of hell.
SAVANNAH. 👏👏👏
I agree; the devil loves division, and what a nice divisive strategy: to convince a section of people to wallow in pride.