to curse or to bless?

 

I wonder when you last cursed something or someone?

Bloody politicians, they are all as bad as each other.

Here we go. Another storm. The weather is so miserable.

Why am I so clumsy?

I am a burden on others.

We might be surprised to realise how often we speak curses. How often we speak death.

The thing is, our words have power. You do not have to subscribe to the increasingly popular (at least among materially wealthy individuals) idea of manifesting to know that words have power.

If I curse the wind and the rain, it makes no difference to the wind and rain, but it does affect me. It concedes ground to the rule (kingdom) of death over me, as opposed to the reign of a loving, life-giving, life-sustaining God.

When I curse another person, it also affects me. But it can affect them too. Speak death over a life often enough and that life will be shaped by death. As will our own.

I wonder when you last blessed something or someone?

To utter a blessing is to speak the power of life and love in the world. To affirm a truth that may have been lost. To mend a part of the fabric of creation that may have been torn. Or simply to recognise and value what is in front of us. It does not so much create (as manifesting claims to do) material reality as it reveals the kingdom of God in the world—and allows both the one who blesses and that which is blessed to be shaped by that reality.

Uttering blessings does not seem to come as easily as curses. Like anything worthwhile, it takes practice. Some people journal between one and three things they are thankful for each day. Counting your blessings is not synonymous with blessing those things, but it may be a starting point.

Blessed are you, O wind, for you are strong and free.

Blessed are you, O rain, for you renew the face of the earth.

Blessed are you, O knife/pen, for you have been a faithful tool in my hand all these years. And blessed be the hand that made you, with such attention to the quality of their work.

Blessed are you, my cat/dog, for you have been a faithful companion.

Blessed are you, my child, strength of my youth and joy of my old age, for you will see things that I will never see and do things that I will never do.

Blessed are you, Members of Parliament, our representatives, for you seek to shape the world for the good of the people and give your strength to the common cause.

Blessed are you, O bird who sits in the tree, for you offer your song to the world without price.

Blessed are you, O tree, for you turn light into life, give shelter, filter air...

Blessed are you, food that we eat, for you nourish the body with nutrients and the soul with flavour and with the joy of companions [literally, those who break bread together].

Blessed are you, O farmers, for by the sweat of your brow you bring forth food from the earth.

Blessed are you, who get up while it is still dark to collect the waste from our homes and take it away, and you who sweep the streets by day, for you take upon yourself what others will not, and lift our burden.

Blessed are you, grandparent, for you know the joy of children given more than once in a lifetime, and the joy of returning them to their parents.

Blessed are you, who is unable for now to see yourself as a blessing, for you are loved by God; may you come to know your inherent goodness and beauty.

Blessed are you who are lost, in grief or despondency, for you will discover things you knew not of, and so could never have set out to find.

Blessed am I, for I am a child of God.