"Be strong. Trust yourself, love yourself, and conquer your fears. Just go out there and do the things you want to do, because life just really isn't that long. There's a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn't that kind of the point?" -Pam Halpert, The Office Finale
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." -Matthew 5:4
Last night, I finished the finale of The Office. (Full disclosure: this wasn't the first time. I think it might've been the sixth or seventh time I made it through all nine seasons of Dunder Mifflin pranks, love, and mishaps.) I love this show, and every time we get to that finale party in the office, my heart wells up at the fact that the stories of all those characters is coming to a close.
I've never been particularly great with things coming to an end, whether it's the finale of a great show or something with a little more consequence. I've never left a funeral in which I didn't cry, even if I'd never met the person in the casket. I've never had a breakup that didn't crush me in some ways.
The last day of high school, I set up a hammock in the parking lot and waited as everyone filed out of our tiny parking lot to rush out in celebration. The day I moved out of my North Village apartment at Furman and turned in my key for the last time, I had to stop on the side of the road before arriving at the new house with my new housemates to collect myself. When I had a chance to say goodbye to students and families in Fort Worth for the last time, I had to sneak away to my office to try to pull myself together.
I hate goodbyes. Why? The memories.
I'm nostalgic, and I look back at all the things that made the saying goodbye so difficult. I think about all the laughs and struggles that got me to that point, the things that cumulatively shaped me. And then I realize that, at least in that relationship, in that era, in that place, there won't be any new memories to be made. The story ends.
At the very beginning of his ministry, Jesus sat atop a hill with his disciples and began to teach them. The first thing he shared was a bit odd. He named eight groups of people who were blessed, eight groups of people who ought to be happy. But it wasn't the usual suspects. It wasn't the rich. It wasn't the powerful. It wasn't the accomplished or the married.
No, it was the poor. The meek. The merciful and the peacemakers. Not the usual suspects, especially not in Jesus' time.
But one of those eight groups has always stood out to me. Jesus says, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."
I've always identified with the mourners, but I've never really understood why Jesus added them to the list. Isn't mourning kind of arbitrary and weak? There's nothing particularly noble about mourning. But I think I'm starting to get it.
Mourning isn't a sign of weakness. Mourning is an act of incredible courage. Why? Think for a second: who mourns? People who have lived richly and loved deeply. The only people who mourn are the people who risked deep connection and rejection and have something significant enough to look back upon.
Those who play it safe, those who never take a risk, those who board up the walls of their lives and hearts to insulate themselves from the potential of pain never live anything that could end worth remembering. To love is risky. To take chances could end in failure. But mourning only comes when the memories made and the obstacles overcome are worth remembering and cherishing.
Mourning comes when something significant comes to an end, and we're only left with memories to look back upon without the hope for new chapters. The end of things only matters if they were worth looking back upon, and we feel empty at the impossibility of new moments to cherish.
So may we live a life worth looking back on with remembrance and tears. May we dive into risks and chances to make the world a better place. May we risk pursuing relationships with the deepest parts of us that may not pan out and may leave us disappointed, because those are the stories that are worth looking back on and celebrating and mourning.
forever unfinished...
