This past week held a profound weight in my spirit, a stark and beautiful illustration of life’s wild, circular nature.

As the ministerial consultant for my congregation, I often stand in the middle of two very different, yet similar roads: the quiet and solemn space of a memorial service, and the vibrant and hopeful celebration of a wedding.

To guide the same group of folks through both a poignant farewell and the joyful beginning of a new chapter in a short amount of time is not a terribly common experience, though, and it is one that can etch the rhythm of life and death just a little deeper onto the soul.

This rhythm is one we all know, deep down.

The fading and the blooming,

the tears and the laughter,

the goodbye and the hello.

We lose, we love, we grow, we’re born….we die.

It’s a cycle as old as time, yet to stand at its pivotal points, within the embrace of my own family, amplified this fundamental truth in a way I could never have fully anticipated.

Yeah. The death and the wedding were both in my own family.

My father-in-law, Ron, passed away recently, and it hit me hard. As in-laws go, I hit the jackpot. He was a wonderful man, full of mirth and wisdom and love. My own father was an ass, who died more than 20 years ago, and when Ron learned this, he “claimed” me as his own, telling me one Christmas that he was my dad now.

I adored him.

The wedding? That was my older brother, Max. He FINALLY married the girl he’s been with since they were in eighth grade. They’re both nearly 50 now, so it was about damn time. In all seriousness, my brother and his new wife are both autistic and resistant to change, so this was a huge step for them both, and we were so happy to celebrate them and their commitment to one another.

Losing Ron and gaining Dee in a very short amount of time was a wild mind-trip, and a little bit of a smack to the soul.

First came the quiet solemnity of Ron’s passing. As I stood by his bed, saying goodbye, I felt the weight of our collective grief and love. My MIL, and sister-in-law sat telling stories, both funny and poignant, painting a picture of this wonderful man who now exists only in our memories. There was a deep sense of loss, a tangible ache of absence, as we sat in unspoken acknowledgment of the natural progression of life, the inevitable farewell.

Then, just days later, I stood before a different gathering, this time filled with the delightful energy of Max and Dee’s Star Trek themed wedding. As I pronounced them husband and wife, weaving their promises and hopes for the future with humorous nods to warp drives and Vulcan salutes, the air crackled with joy.

The vows they made to each other were a powerful testament to the enduring human desire for connection, for building something lasting in this fleeting world.

There was an overwhelming sense of possibility, of a future stretching out before them, ripe with shared moments and perhaps even a few away missions (of the domestic kind, of course, and with no one wearing a red shirt).

All through the wedding reception, one particular phrase kept echoing in my mind:

“Live long and prosper.”

It’s the iconic Vulcan blessing, a wish for a full and flourishing existence.

What struck me so profoundly was its inherent appropriateness for both a wedding and a memorial service.

At a wedding, it’s a clear and joyful aspiration for the couple embarking on their shared journey.

May their lives together be long, filled with growth, happiness, and mutual prosperity in all its forms.

But then I thought about Ron.

Isn’t “Live long and prosper” also a fitting sentiment to honor his life?

While his earthly journey has concluded, the impact of his life, the love he shared, the memories he created – these will undoubtedly live long within us, prospering in the hearts and minds of everyone he loved. His legacy, in a very real sense, will continue to flourish in us, and in our children.

To hold both these spaces, to navigate the profound sadness of loss and the exhilarating joy of new beginnings in the same month, in the same family, underscored this powerful duality.

The joy of the new union, with its hopeful blessing for a long and prosperous future, felt particularly poignant in the wake of acknowledging a life that had run its course but whose impact would endure.

They truly felt like two sides of the same coin, united by that simple yet profound blessing: “Live long and prosper.”

It makes me think about the rites of passage we all navigate, both personally and within our communities.

The graduations,

the births,

the anniversaries,

the career changes,

the moves…

All these moments that mark transitions, beginnings, and endings.

The privilege I have, as a minister, to stand as a guide, a witness, for such deeply personal milestones, with this unexpected thematic resonance, has given me a profound new appreciation for their interconnectedness.

Maybe the spiritual heart of our human experience lies in accepting this wild circularity, in embracing the full spectrum of emotion that washes over us, from the quiet depths of sorrow to the dizzying heights of joy, and finding the common threads that bind us.

After all, we aren’t Vulcans. We are, for better or worse, emotional beings.

Both endings and beginnings are sacred parts of our journey.

So, as I’ve moved between these sacred duties of farewell and celebration, I’ve been reflecting on my own experiences.

Life is a wild dance, a constant turning of the wheel.

By acknowledging its circular nature, by bearing witness to both the endings and the beginnings, and perhaps even finding unifying blessings like “live long and prosper,” we can discover a deeper understanding of our shared humanity and a profound appreciation for the precious, fleeting moments in between.

And maybe, just maybe, we can find a sense of enduring hope in the understanding that even after a farewell, the cycle continues, bringing with it the potential for new love, new life, and the enduring prosperity of memory.

Where have you seen this unexpected interconnectedness in life’s major events? What phrases or sentiments have resonated with you across different rites of passage?