A Benediction for the Dying
by Ian Cummins
Note: When I wrote A Benediction for Mothers a few weeks ago, I mentioned I’ve been experimenting lately with what is a new kind of writing for me. Part poetry, part blessing, part theological reflection, these benedictions have been an enjoyable creative outlet and I would welcome any feedback you have (either in the comments or by messaging me directly). With this benediction, I attempted to write something that could be recited at a bedside or other poignant moment near the end of a person’s life. Let me know if you think it would work for that, or why it might not.
Audio version:
A Benediction for the Dying
Life is full of crossings-
moments when one step further
and we are no longer who we thought we were.
Moments that require all our bravery to face.
And it may seem
like this river you must now traverse
is like that. But it’s not.
Unlike before,
what is asked of you now
is not courage, but surrender.
A surrender not of something,
but into something,
like a river
releasing itself to the Sea.
A surrender born not of defeat,
but of trust, as you begin to understand
what your heart has always known:
that this whole beautiful mess
has been a love story.
Have you not glimpsed,
from time to time,
that invisible thread of grace
weaving everything together?
Or noted the way mercy finds its way
into even the most desperate corner?
And despite life’s hard edges and sure defeats,
would you not still call it
miraculous?
Not that your life has been free of pain,
which you would not have wanted anyway.
Nor free of fear,
though you see now
there was nothing, ultimately,
to be afraid of.
Nor free of struggle,
or confusion,
or loss,
which are more valuable to the shaping of a life
than any blessing ever could be.
But in the end,
has it not been a life of meaning
and beauty,
and something trustworthy?
And if living has been worthy of your faith
why not your dying too?
Are they not doorways inside the same house,
sourced from the same Mystery?
And as you stand at this river’s edge
that so many have crossed before you,
can you not hear that same Mystery
whispering to you now…
You are perfectly safe-
you always were.
You have everything you need-
you always did.
And I am right here beside you-
I always have been.
Ian,
I saved this to read while walking the Coastal Portuguese Camino. I’m glad I did. Your benediction feeds my soul, as your words always have. The Camino is, for me a threshold that I’ve approached in all humility and hope. Blessings to you, Laura, Ana and Ian!
Well, that is quite moving. I hope I can find it in my vast collection of saved emails when my turn comes to return to the sea. And, as is usually the case, it is very helpful in the midst of life, when death seems far away. Thank you, my friend.