The Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

Do not love the world or the things of the world. 
... the world and its enticement are passing away. 
But whoever does the will of God remains forever.

Although we are in the middle of the Christmas Season, we are rapidly approaching the end of our civil year. We can take this opportunity to assess (not judge, there is only one Judge) our passage through the past year. What of the world have I loved? How much did I suffer when I lost something that belongs only to this world? How did that suffering change me? Was I changed toward greater or less freedom in losing it? 

I think of Elizabeth Bishop's magnificent villanelle, "One Art:"

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster, Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three beloved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. -- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster. As the poet tries to make light of her losses -- and one in particular -- the loss of that lover crashes a devastating blow upon her.

We can lose things of this world – the door keys, the heirloom, even a beloved house – and shake off those losses. But the loss of a spiritual treasure – a friend, a child, relative or spouse – is hard to bear. And there are heavier losses yet: innocence, trust, respect, integrity, and so on.

It is hard to bear the loss of physical or mental health. They are anchors that fix us firmly in this world and when they’re shaken our whole world comes unglued.

In today’s gospel we hear the last paragraph of yesterday’s story. Anna, a poor widow of many years, has lost everything but her faith in God. Waiting for the Messiah she has done the will of God, and she remains forever. We pray that we will enjoy the same satisfaction as we practice the art of losing. It’s not too hard to master.