Lent|Giving Up Control

Control

The beginning of Jesus’ time in the desert, those 40 days of trial and test, hold meaning that is deep and rich, difficult and awkward for the listeners who have since followed. Those who endeavour to follow Jesus and continue his work hear this story in different ways depending on our context, which ranges from such factors as time, gender, privilege, race and education. These factors all influence how we understand control and what it might mean for us to let it go, to give it up

My previous exploration of control had to do with it in respect to communities of faith. In this Lenten musing, I have found myself reflecting on control as a distraction – a temptation – for those who Have and benefit from the suffering of others. Should I be honest in this Lenten space, I acknowledge that I do indeed wear the clothes of one who benefits and would rather not acknowledge such temptation, except perhaps intellectually and academically. Yet the passage from Matthew serves well to illustrate the visceral, even literal, implications of confronting what it means to give up control.

Having named this, I have been confronting a sense of inertia.
Where do I go with this naming?
What does it mean to let go?

I believe that my particularity speaks to the generality that is, in many ways, the reality for main stream Canadian Protestant churches, who are wrestling with Call and identity in a generation in which old assumptions and moorings have become dislodged. This wrestling occurs because this place of Have is founded upon such realities of colonialism, misogyny and racism. Human constructed realities that separate people from one another. This sense of dislocation is, I would offer, contrary to Jesus’ ministry that we spy clearly in the Christian Sacred Scriptures.

What I understand is key to that ministry, for Jesus’ followers, is what is called the Great Commandment:

Letting Go … Letting Love

If Love is the key to the law, then control, in the context of those who Have, must confront this Holy command. This does not mean to imply that it is any easier, but the lens or criteria becomes discernible. If control, from this position, requires me and the inheritors of colonial privilege to let go, then this ultimate law helps us begin to gauge truthfully the degree to which we are willing to be humbled by Love’s statute.

I would offer two provocative Canadian examples that help me understand how this Love command helps in beginning to give up control:

1. In respect to Indigenous and non-Indigenous relations, Canada has begun a journey toward reconciliation. The possibility for healing for all us is directly connected to letting go of control. This letting go, however, is so difficult that it is well evidenced in a recent judicial ruling that concerned the right of Canada’s First People’s religious calling over against non-Indigenous for-profit activities. If Love’s command is the ultimate law, then such decisions beg us to ask whether such choices reflect the degree to which we are loving others as ourselves; and,
2. Canada, like many western democracies, has been greatly affected by the #MeToo The reality of the oppression suffered by women has not only become clear, but the underpinning patriarchal systems that perpetuate control based on gender is now openly critiqued and appropriately challenged. In the ongoing debate, Love’s statute confronts all who benefit from a culture that utilises violence to silence and marginalise. How we collectively respond to these horrific revelations speaks directly to letting go.

Giving up and letting go, like Lent, is a journey. It does not necessarily occur immediately, although, in some cases, it does. Letting go of control, whether as an individual or culture, takes both trust and vulnerability. Regardless of where you find yourself on the continuum of possessing control, reflection and discernment are rich tools with which to begin. But ultimately, this is not an individualistic endeavour. It requires us collectively to take seriously Love.

Love is too often framed romantically or as an intellectual exercise. As followers of Jesus, however, what does it mean if we consider it as an active verb – an act of being in the world. With the two examples shared, how are our decisions in relation to one another reflections of loving you as myself? And, should it be clear that Love is not the way I am treating you, then how I begin to let go to be Love requires both humility and courage. Both of these virtues require relationships, otherwise we simply perpetuate false human divisions that invite temptation to keep us apart, lonely and longing …