Dear Westwood Family,

It’s been one of those seasons where it feels like we’re losing important people every day. This week, I was surprised by news of the death of Wendell Berry. Farmer, poet, novelist, and essayist, Berry has been one of those writers whose work has continued to influence me over decades in my life. I know he’s been that for many of you, too.

Perhaps “surprised” is not actually the right word. He was 92. And, for decades he’s written poignantly and authentically about death, grief, and loss, among other things. His “Fidelity” is one of my very favorite short stories; it opens questions about mortality and life, and how to die well in community.

Our culture usually seems relieved to avoid things that remind us of death and loss. Wendell Berry’s long faithfulness to his community and his farm makes talk of grief and dying unavoidable. Our faith ought to equip us well for these conversations–after all, at the center of our story of salvation is suffering, death, and resurrection. My experience, though, is that just because it’s central to our faith doesn’t mean it’s easy.

Something about the earthy, grounded, humble perspective of a farmer made it possible for Berry to write about death in ways that are realistic, unflinching, and also beautifully hopeful. One of his poems that keeps coming back to me is this one, titled “A Meeting”:

In a dream I meet
my dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
and yet he is the same
for the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,
ask: “How you been?”
He grins and looks at me.
“I been eating peaches
off some mighty fine trees.”

What reassurance and hope, to imagine those we’ve lost as able to enjoy some of the best and most beautiful things from this life. (Peaches are that for me.) And what a gift to be able to reflect on the ways we change, even after loss. Having thoughtfully pondered and reflected on loss and death, his words beckon me forward with an invitation to appreciate and savor the goodness of life.

I pray that you, too, would find a gift in his work: to be unfraid as you prepare for life and for death, to treasure the goodness around us, including friendship and fresh peaches.

grace and peace,
Pastor Molly