I can’t recall ever being blessed by my father. It’s neither a complaint or a whine, just an observation. It could be that my father did bless me when I was an infant, but I’ve no recollection. I’ve also no blame for him. It would surprise me very much to learn that my father’s father had blessed him, even though my father was the first born son. And there’s no blame being assigned to my grandfather either. I don’t know how many generations it has been since the Church taught blessing as a Christian’s prerogative. But I do know that when I’ve asked how many people in a congregation of 100+ were ever blessed by their fathers, less than half dozen hands are raised.
Blessing is a priestly act, but it doesn’t require a priest in the sacramental/institutional sense. As Russ Parker notes in his book Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing, blessing is more than just good wishes or nice words. It conveys the presence of God on the person being blessed. It can mark the healing of old and deep wounds. It can also restore a sense of purpose in the life of that person. Most of all, blessing is a sacramental unsaying of the curses our world loves to give. When Jesus instructs disciples to bless those who curse you he is doing more than just breaking a cycle of meeting curse with curse. He is inviting his apprentices to engage in a ministry of healing the wounds the world inflicts.
That’s good news, but there is even better news. Even when there is no specific wound to heal, when there is no curse to lift, blessing builds. That’s why I do wish my father had known he had both the authority and ability to bless. Even today, when perhaps our children are grown and the opportunity to bless in childhood has passed, it is still possible to bless our children and teach our children to bless their own. In the ministry of blessing we incarnate Christ’s new priesthood. The fallen priesthood of Adam, so often a priesthood of unmeaning, will now never have the last word.
The Apprentice Priest 