Trusting to a greater power beyond political ideology at time of need and grief

FOUR decades ago, the funeral of Leonid Brezhnev brought to a close the career of a man who had been favoured by Stalin. Later snubbed by Krushchev he returned from the political wilderness in the 1960s. A political coup overthrowing Krushchev saw Brezhnev becoming leader of the Soviet Union in 1964, a position he held for almost twenty years. World leaders at his funeral spoke of a cold, precise, clinical affair reflecting the practices of the Soviet regime. There was little emotion on display although the thought of the 114 medals Brezhnev had awarded himself might have brought a smile to some faces.

The display of stoicism was broken by his widow. She looked into his coffin before it was closed for the last time. After a few moments of silent contemplation by his side, she leaned in towards the open casket. Onlookers expected a final kiss for her husband or maybe a last farewell gesture. What she did was heroic in a land where atheism had shaped people’s lives for almost one hundred years. Over his body, Viktoria Brezhnev made the sign of the cross.

Here was a woman at a time of deep grief and loss. Where does she turn for comfort and hope? Not to the ideologies of her political leaders but to one whose teachings her husband and others had tried to suppress. In her hour of need she went not to Lenin or Krushchev or Karl Marx. Instead, in the hour of death, she turned to a Nazarene carpenter who had lived two thousand years ago.

In the days and weeks ahead who knows what problems, challenges and trials await us all? When we meet them (as we surely will) where will we turn? To ideologies that can build societies but not change lives? To people who, though well-meaning, may well let us down? To ourselves knowing our own weakness and frailties? Millions around the world are not ashamed to say that whatever the future brings they will trust Jesus, the one who said, “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me”.