Lately I have been thinking a lot about the idea of newness in life. What does it mean to be new, in one's self, and in life? Is it possible, and if so how to achieve it?
Of course this is a subject with deep spiritual implications, so I don't expect to come up with answers just by thinking, but rather by prayer and deep meditation. Nevertheless, there are answers, and I have recently found some clues that have greatly helped me.
Last summer I was at a point in my life where I thought that perhaps my life was essentially over, and that I was simply waiting for death at this point. It was not that I felt I was imminently dying, but rather that the spirit of renewal had left me and would not return. This was partly due to my physical condition at the time, but it was buttressed by the fact that I was turning sixty, and a certain arithmetic tells me that however long I live, the years I have left to be vibrant in the world are fewer than the years I have let slip by, even during my adult years. The years ahead will pass quickly as well. What will I use them for?
I have no "bucket list" of things to do and see while I am on Earth, to borrow a popular concept. The only things that truly matter to me at this point are loving God and loving other people.
Loving God means in part accepting that God's will for my life will triumph over my own will. With that comes a great humility in accepting the difference, but as the saints know, out of this humility is a freedom and joy, even in the midst of suffering. God knows our hearts and He is always ready to forgive us. He is always ready to renew us in that sense, up to the moment we take our last breath.
But what about loving others, as we are commanded to do? The messiness of human life can leave us with grief and sorrow over past words and interactions with others. At some point the grief and sorrow can become so ingrained in us that it obscures the origins. The sorrow becomes a familiar comfortable burden that we carry with us, but one that separates us from others. We have to put down that burden of carrying it at some point, if we are to experience newness. This is so easily said, but how to do it in practical sense.
It helps greatly if the other person is your ally in this regard. It helps if they are on your side, patient with you while you figure things out. I recently experienced this with a close family member. We have been on good terms for decades, yet between us there was still a barrier that was the result of grief over actions long ago in the past. I recently decided, as part of this Lenten season of repentance, to address these point blank and wrote a letter taking responsibility in an explicit way that I had never done before. The result was a great burden lifted for both of us. The result felt like newness.
Newness implies a restored innocence. It means uncertainty over the future as when we were young, and this can tremendously disorienting in its own way. To stay sheltered in our grief means we can have control. Letting it go means loss of that petty control. It means that life becomes a voyage again, instead of static endpoint. Elliot famously wrote about this in "The Wasteland." Lilacs out of the dead land.
The appearance of this renewal is typically greeted by the voices of the Enemy in discouragement saying don't bother. Even knowing the source of these voices of discouragement, it can be a hard battle. Much easier just to avoid that struggle. Who wants to disrupt things too much by trying? Aren't you being a bit presumptive and rude? Some doors should be kept closed.
Winter kept us warm. What a powerful line, don't you think?
Perhaps it is the very awkwardness of the attempt, where one can feel a fool for trying, that is the necessary ingredient. The coming of spring means being chilly as one ventures outside. Maybe it has to be that way. In loving others, it is made possible by an awareness from our wisdom that we never truly knew the other person as fully as we believed--even as we may feel deeply recognized by them in fellowship. In that inevitable gap is the life and soul of the other person. In that gap is the newness--which leads us back to humility.
Who are you, after all? I am curious to know the real you, and brave enough to try to know you.
In this realization comes the ultimate newness which is that we never truly knew ourselves as well. The locked-in version of ourselves that we would assign to ourselves for the rest of our lives is itself a false one. In letting go of our perception of another, we let go of a perception of ourselves. We shed something we don't need anymore. We feel, in some sense, new. It is how we help each other in life.
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