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Returning from war is never easy.
Following WWII, there were some Japanese communities who had the insight to understand that many of their returning soldiers were not prepared or equipped to reenter their new world--whether that meant a civil or human society. From their formative years through young adulthood, and in some cases into mid-life, these men had to be a "loyal soldier." Now that the war was over, they needed a broader identity to once again rejoin their communities as citizens.
Inspired, these communities created a communal ritual whereby a soldier is publicly thanked and praised effusively for his service to the people. After this is finished, an elder stands and announces with authority something to this effect: "The war is now over! The community needs you to let go of what has served you and served us well up to now. The community needs you to return as a man, a citizen, and something beyond a soldier."
In his own work, Richard Rohr uses this story to talk about the need for each of us to "discharge our loyal soldier."
Which is all well and good until you realize how well your loyal soldier has served you.
I do know this: My loyal solider has served me well. And whether male or female, we all know the feeling. . .
It is the role where we felt needed.
It is the role where we felt secure.
It is the role where we felt important.
And yes, at some point in our life, the loyal soldier was a "necessary" role.
But now I am being asked to let it go? To give it up? To move beyond?
And what if I give this up?
Lord knows, but it may be completely unpredictable, opening the doors to everything I have kept at bay.
Honestly. . .I'm not sure if my heart is ready.
But here's the deal: I know that are time in my life when I've played roles which no longer serve me or the people who love me.
--Because I associated the role with my identity
--Because I have used the role to garner recognition and praise
--Because there comes a time when "the role" buries authentic passion or wholeness or delight or fullness of life.
No, it is not easy. . .because to discharge the loyal soldier is to move from a place of "certainty" to a place of "uncertainty."
This past weekend, at the Franciscan Center in Tampa, FL, I spent time with a group of people talking about paradigm change. Paradigm, meaning the way we see or view or make our way through the world.
Whatever is honored will be cultivated. Plato
(Notice that it is not what we think or believe or affirm in whatever creed we may teach. It is what we honor--or intend or practice.)
Discharging our loyal soldier is about changing the paradigm. It is about changing what we honor.
So that's the sticky-wicket. We are asked to move from a place of productivity and usefulness and resourcefulness and efficiency. . .
to a place of openness and giving and learning and humility and soft-heartedness and receiving and most assuredly, unknowing.
We find by losing. We hold fast
by letting go. We become something
new by ceasing to be something old.
This seems to be close to the heart
of that mystery. I know no more now
than I ever did about the far side of
death as the last letting-go of all,
but now I know that I do not need
to know, and that I do not need
to be afraid of not knowing.
God knows. That is all that matters.
Frederick Buechner
(1) The story of the Japanese soldier adapted from Bill Plotkin, Animas Institute, Durango, CO
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