the lesson of falling leaves

by Wesley Rowell, Associate Rector

 

I used to think of myself as a “summer person.” But I think my second summer as a Memphian has finally relieved me of that self-descriptor. That’s what seven straight weeks of temperatures in the 90s (including 100-degree September days!) will do to your beliefs.

 

One of the lovely things about Memphis is that, despite this summer that seemed to last for decades, we do have four distinct seasons. I love the expectation of winter, the renewal of spring, and the brightness of summer, but there is something about fall that makes me stop in my tracks. In her poem, the lesson of falling leaves, Lucille Clifton wrote:

the leaves believe

such letting go is love

such love is faith

such faith is grace

such grace is god

i agree with the leaves

 

There are very specific trees I fall in love with in fall, as I watch them change color, turn to fire, until the final leaf inevitably stops clinging and lets go. There’s a lot of theology in that.  In Ecclesiastes 3:1, of course, we hear, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Jesus is even more pointed: “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it (Matthew 16:25).”

 

If you’ve been paying close attention to the recent liturgical cycle, you may have noticed that the theme of surrender and letting go is central to the structure and message of Matthew’s Gospel. Disciples immediately leave their nets; Jesus says not to worry about food or shelter or clothing, and memorably tells the rich young man to sell all his possessions.

 

I think the question for us may be, what are we willing to let go of so God’s dream for our lives can flourish?  What are the resentments we cling to like lost loves? What self-delusions and self-abandonments are masking our true natures, distorting our Imago Dei?  And a brief caveat here-I fully acknowledge that some of the things we allow to get in our own way were vital coping mechanisms that kept many of us safe and alive.

 

My friend Jane always says, “Everything I ever let go of has claw marks on it.” I can relate. Maybe you can too. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. I think the important thing is to notice the small things that might be holding us back. What if that “idiot” who just cut us off in traffic is on his way to the emergency room to visit his dying father? What if the coworker who you swear is “out to get you” is struggling with their own insecurity and fear? Can we let them go?

 

Lucille Clifton wrote, “i agree with the leaves.” Perhaps God’s dream for all of us is that we become just a little more willing to let go of things which no longer serve us or God. May it be so.