Dear Church Family,
We are rapidly approaching the end of our pastoral relationship. Already I have started saying goodbyes; the youth group had their end-of-year picnic this past weekend, and I taught my last Godly Play class. This Sunday will be my last Celebration with you.
Last week in Contact you read about the boundaries we will need to keep when I leave, including the year of not contacting one another, even on social media. I acknowledge that this will be difficult for us. But I think it is a really good practice and I do encourage you to embrace it. Having a formal period of separation forces us to say a real goodbye, and not just to slide over the pain of farewell. I think this is healthy.
Grief and goodbyes are an important part of life, and they are opportunities for spiritual growth. The Bible is full of goodbyes, in a world without the conveniences of modern communication. Goodbyes then could easily be goodbyes forever, and letters were treasured so dearly they became sacred scripture. Over and over again the epistle-writers say “farewell” and “greetings” and “I thank God whenever I remember you,” precious communications sent across uncertain terrain.
Learning from those scriptures, I promise to do my best not to take our future meetings for granted. Yes, we hope that we may run into one another in the Berkeley Bowl, or see one another at presbytery meetings, or reunite down the line after you are well settled with a new staff person in place. But who knows what may happen in the year between… who of us might die, or get priced out of the neighborhood, or maybe even receive an urgent call to move to Saskatchewan. We might not get to see one another again in this life. Would we be left with important things unsaid – thanks, gratitude, amends, forgiveness? Let’s say them now, and not count on future opportunities we may not be lucky enough to receive. Let’s face the fullness of all that is before us – gratitude and grief and generosity and grace – and move through it aware and open-eyed.
Twenty years ago when I left a study abroad semester in Prague I did my best to avoid goodbyes. Over and over I told my Czech friends that I would come back and visit (And did I? No, I didn’t, I just took solace in convincing myself I would). But one dear friend gave me a memorable goodbye anyway. He firmly explained that even if I returned to Prague, he would be at architecture school on the other side of the country, and we were not going to see one another again. Except, he said with a smile, in heaven. His goodbye was simultaneously a sharp cut ending our friendship, and a warm invitation to consider it in the “forever” zone. It meant much more to me than the goodbyes of other friends who played along with my fantasy of returning. I hope the same for us. That at the same time as we say goodbye for real, we know our relationship is made of eternal things. A shaker song my mother taught me sings “now our meeting is over, we must part; and if I never see you any more, I’ll love you in my heart.” Faith, hope, love: these things abide and will continue.
I look forward to seeing you this Sunday to say goodbye in person. If by chance or circumstance, these words are indeed my last chance to say goodbye to you, then I will say it has been my honor and privilege to be your associate pastor for these years, and I will miss you and love you in my heart. I bid you farewell.
I leave you with this benediction:
Friends, remember that life is
short
And we have but little time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us.
O, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind!
And may the peace of Christ, the love of God, and the power of the Holy Spirit be with you this day and evermore.
Every Blessing,
Talitha