Shedding the shape of us

Suffer less by holding lightly

I’m all for understanding and showcasing our likes and dislikes, preferences, and present passions and interests. Some of the livliest conversations among my friends are around these things. Nowadays, anyone can create a little cartoon version of themselves called an bitmoji. I’ve made one and am rather attached to the way it looks.

We’re also offered many ways to project our present self to the observing world. Whether on social media or in real life we can present likes or more profound things, we can wear t-shirts, and awareness ribbons for even the most niche part of ourselves. We become walking bumper stickers of all our self-ness.

While relatively harmless and mostly fun, if overly practiced, it invites an unhealthy attachment to our present self. It may lead us to double down on what will undoubtedly fade, change, or be dropped altogether.

Easter as a shedding

If you’re a Christian, this past Sunday was a treasured celebration, Easter. It marks Christ’s resurrection. One thing the scriptures mention is the clothes Jesus’ body was wrapped in being left behind in the tomb. In John’s account, the face covering is described as folded. While the meaning of this is debated, I’d like to see the way this shows a healthy relationship with attachment to self. These discarded clothes were once in the shape of Jesus, carefully chosen, perhaps dearly, and thoughtfully purchased. Then, they were shed to take the next step in a grander plan.

While the death and resurrection of Jesus are actual, they are also a symbol of our passing from one form into another. Something that comes to us routinely when we follow God. To fully commit to and experience this, it’s best to hold lightly to how we see ourselves. To be open to shedding what might have been thoughtfully invested in and seen as who we are to others. The shape of us.

The less definite us

While self is what we attach to, we’re less fixed than we realize. Scripture describes man’s life as a vapor. We take that to mean brief, but to see the idea entirely means to know that man’s life isn’t solid. Everything is passing. It’s not even the more substantive rain; it’s mist. So don’t cling; it will only add to your suffering.

Richard Rohr describes moving deeper into stages of spirituality. Near the deeper stages, a healthy lack of clinging to self exists as we see it. He writes,

You see that every aspect of your persona — your roles, your titles, your functions, even your bodily self is a passing form, a passing ego-possession. At this point, you know your body is not fully you. You have found your soul, your True Self, who you are “hidden with Christ in God”

This is deep stuff, to be sure, but take a moment to ask if we don’t routinely set ourselves up for more suffering than necessary. We are goaded into attaching to perceptions of who we are and defend that against the tide of natural change and the direction of healthy spiritual growth, which is mainly shedding past versions of the self.

Those called to follow Jesus released the nets of their fishing profession, moved away from home, and even shed names they’d been given at birth. They became hidden in Christ, which led to the release of all but a deepening and developing love.

Let it go

Letting go is hard. There were tears at the tomb. Interestingly those tears were for being unable to see a past version of Jesus while a new, resurrected one stood there.

We’re not emotionless robots who quickly shed things, but living in denial of the impermanence of all we hold dear will undoubtedly increase our suffering. Moreover, we may trend toward protective over-identification, tribalism, and defending a fading version of us.

Death ongoing

Death allows for rebirth; it’s dark, seems hopeless, and confining, but it alone allows us to fulfill the longing to be the highest version of ourselves. Besides, much of life ends up being a release of what is — for what’s to come.

It might be nice if this death towards newness were a one-time experience, but it’s more a case of frequent visits to tombs big and small. In her book How to Do the Work, Nicole LePera writes,

singular transformative experiences…can take us only so far along the path to healing. To truly actualize change, you have to engage in the work of making new choices every day. In order to achieve mental wellness, you must begin by being an active daily participant in your own healing.

This idea maps onto our spiritual lives well. What might you be led to no longer see as permanent? What might you be defending that’s actually keeping you from a more vast unveiling of Christ in you?