Blessing and Letting Go
14/05/14 05:11
A few years ago, I wrote a series of resources for Faith Practices, a United Church of Christ online faith formation resource. I had previously written and edited for the resources on the Faith Practice of hospitality. This time I was writing worship resources on the practice of blessing and letting go. As is often the case when writing resources, there is a lag between the writing and the publication and in that time, one moves on to other adventures and projects. I allowed those resources to remain on the back burner for some time as I worked in the midst of the day to day life of a busy and exciting congregation. I have returned to those resources several times in recent weeks as I have prepared and led worship in our congregation. Easter is, more than we realize it, a season of blessing and letting go.
This has been particularly true in our congregation this year. We have had an unusually high number of deaths in our congregation. It seems that there is a funereal every week and this week is no exception with the death of one of the elders of our congregation. The liturgical cycle of Lent and Easter has a natural rhythm of blessing and letting go, but we often fail to follow through with the complete process.
Lent begins with a growing awareness of the reality of death and loss. Our faith does not go lightly with the pain of grief and sorrow. We invest 40 days each year in the practice of direct contact with the realities of loss. It is a most uncomfortable season for those who take their faith practices seriously. We do not enjoy pain and loss. Lent can be a time of coming into full realization of the process of loss. Often we think of loss in its meaning referring to the absence of something to which we were attached. “I lost my wallet” is an example. There is something we once had that we cannot find. The item is missing, but you still know where you are. When a death occurs, we speak of the loss of the loved one. But this is only one dimension of the experience of loss. Loss also refers to the experience of an environment that is larger than your knowledge of it. One can become lost in an unfamiliar environment. One gets lost in the woods, lost in a strange city, and lost in life when the familiar landmarks are not visible. Both types of being lost involve loss of control. they are events that happen to you. During Lent we practice loss - both kinds of loss.
After 40 days of Lent we enter into the season of Easter. The Easter season is 40 days long and is divided into two parts. The first 40 days, the same length as Lent is devoted to thinking seriously about the reality of resurrection and the difference between resurrection and resuscitation. Our faith is not based in a near-death experience in which a person is revived through the ministrations of health care professionals or the good fortune of circumstances. Jesus really died. All the way dead. The realization that life extends beyond death is not an easy concept to grasp. The reports of Jesus’ resurrection almost all involve a lack of recognition. The presence is real, but it is often not recognized. The shift of perspective is dramatic. It is as if at one moment you are facing the back of a car, watching the world recede as the car races forward and suddenly you are turned around looking at the approach of a new world through the windshield. The grief and sorrow and loss of Lent involves a lot of looking back. Faithful Christians remember the actions of Jesus. We recall the stories. We remember that which we grieve. Then suddenly, at Easter, we embrace the reality that Jesus has gone ahead to a place that we are approaching. It is mind-boggling and can be disorienting.
40 days into the season of Easter our faith asks us to take another step Ascension is the focus of the last ten days of Eastertide. That is the “letting go” part of the adventure. We release the need for physical presence and realize that that our sense of distance and direction are not the only perspective.
Quite frankly, we aren’t too good at the letting go part of the process. We are inclined to want to hold on to that which is familiar. We feel the warm glow of remembering pleasant times and experiences and we want to hang on to the positive feelings. Letting go can leave us feeling lost once again in a whole new way.
The process, however, remains incomplete until we are able to both bless and let go. We release that which we have loved and trust that process of changing prospective. That which is truly released is no longer a part of our past only. It becomes an invitation to a new future. Letting go does not always feel like a blessing. Thus, like other faith practices, it requires continuing and repeating practice to embrace this gift of faith.
Ascension Day is still a week away. We still have much to learn and practice as we go through our annual journey of blessing and letting go.
Today I offer a prayer for the process that I wrote for those resources years ago. It remains a prayer to which I need to return regularly:
O God of all times of my life, you are with me in the times of letting go and the times of recognizing the blessing. Sometimes I recognize your presence even in the moments when I wonder why you seem so distant. Open my heart that I might perceive your blessing in the midst of letting go. Free me from the slavery to the way things used to be, so that I might embrace the future to which you are calling me. Keep me ever mindful of your people and the gifts they bring to worship each week. In Christ I pray, Amen.
This has been particularly true in our congregation this year. We have had an unusually high number of deaths in our congregation. It seems that there is a funereal every week and this week is no exception with the death of one of the elders of our congregation. The liturgical cycle of Lent and Easter has a natural rhythm of blessing and letting go, but we often fail to follow through with the complete process.
Lent begins with a growing awareness of the reality of death and loss. Our faith does not go lightly with the pain of grief and sorrow. We invest 40 days each year in the practice of direct contact with the realities of loss. It is a most uncomfortable season for those who take their faith practices seriously. We do not enjoy pain and loss. Lent can be a time of coming into full realization of the process of loss. Often we think of loss in its meaning referring to the absence of something to which we were attached. “I lost my wallet” is an example. There is something we once had that we cannot find. The item is missing, but you still know where you are. When a death occurs, we speak of the loss of the loved one. But this is only one dimension of the experience of loss. Loss also refers to the experience of an environment that is larger than your knowledge of it. One can become lost in an unfamiliar environment. One gets lost in the woods, lost in a strange city, and lost in life when the familiar landmarks are not visible. Both types of being lost involve loss of control. they are events that happen to you. During Lent we practice loss - both kinds of loss.
After 40 days of Lent we enter into the season of Easter. The Easter season is 40 days long and is divided into two parts. The first 40 days, the same length as Lent is devoted to thinking seriously about the reality of resurrection and the difference between resurrection and resuscitation. Our faith is not based in a near-death experience in which a person is revived through the ministrations of health care professionals or the good fortune of circumstances. Jesus really died. All the way dead. The realization that life extends beyond death is not an easy concept to grasp. The reports of Jesus’ resurrection almost all involve a lack of recognition. The presence is real, but it is often not recognized. The shift of perspective is dramatic. It is as if at one moment you are facing the back of a car, watching the world recede as the car races forward and suddenly you are turned around looking at the approach of a new world through the windshield. The grief and sorrow and loss of Lent involves a lot of looking back. Faithful Christians remember the actions of Jesus. We recall the stories. We remember that which we grieve. Then suddenly, at Easter, we embrace the reality that Jesus has gone ahead to a place that we are approaching. It is mind-boggling and can be disorienting.
40 days into the season of Easter our faith asks us to take another step Ascension is the focus of the last ten days of Eastertide. That is the “letting go” part of the adventure. We release the need for physical presence and realize that that our sense of distance and direction are not the only perspective.
Quite frankly, we aren’t too good at the letting go part of the process. We are inclined to want to hold on to that which is familiar. We feel the warm glow of remembering pleasant times and experiences and we want to hang on to the positive feelings. Letting go can leave us feeling lost once again in a whole new way.
The process, however, remains incomplete until we are able to both bless and let go. We release that which we have loved and trust that process of changing prospective. That which is truly released is no longer a part of our past only. It becomes an invitation to a new future. Letting go does not always feel like a blessing. Thus, like other faith practices, it requires continuing and repeating practice to embrace this gift of faith.
Ascension Day is still a week away. We still have much to learn and practice as we go through our annual journey of blessing and letting go.
Today I offer a prayer for the process that I wrote for those resources years ago. It remains a prayer to which I need to return regularly:
O God of all times of my life, you are with me in the times of letting go and the times of recognizing the blessing. Sometimes I recognize your presence even in the moments when I wonder why you seem so distant. Open my heart that I might perceive your blessing in the midst of letting go. Free me from the slavery to the way things used to be, so that I might embrace the future to which you are calling me. Keep me ever mindful of your people and the gifts they bring to worship each week. In Christ I pray, Amen.