Death. There, I Said It

As I was driving back and forth between Elizabeth and Pittsburgh last weekend I was thinking about a lot more than just radio stations and Classic Rock.  Better than 14 hours round trip alone through the mountains of PA leaves a lot of time to think about things, like your life and where you've been, where you're going and what hopes and dreams you have along the way.  The fact that I was going to a funeral added to the reflectiveness, to be sure.  I joke that I'm living the dream as a Salesian priest, and that's no lie.  But there certainly are things I'd like to accomplish before it's time to shuffle off this mortal coil.  I'd like to leave St. Anthony's a better, stronger parish, building on the foundations left by my predecessors and leaving something to work with to my successor.  I've been working on a novel for almost three years, it'd be nice to finish that, maybe get it published.  This blog is an extension of my literary ambitions, to be sure; I'd love to see the readership grow.

It's important to dream, to aspire, to have healthy ambitions.  We were put in this world to be active, to share in God's creative work.  While only God can create in the true sense of the word, we have the ability to shape, influence and mold reality, leaving this place better than how we found it.  I truly believe that before we can do that we need to understand that we are only here a brief moment, and then we move on to the next phase of our existence.  There is an urgency to our lives because sixty, seventy or even eighty years are not as many as they sound.  We need to fulfill our vocations (not our destinies) because our peace and happiness in this life depends on it, and our eternal salvation very well may.

If you've noticed, I haven't used the words death or dying yet, but our death is exactly what I'm talking about.  We, as a society, have grown almost neurotically fearful of talking about it, and it's to our detriment.  It's ironic, really, because movies where people die by the score, sometimes depicted in the most gruesome ways imaginable, are among the most popular entertainments around.  For a long time film critics have bemoaned the fact that the movie ratings system here in the States has been applied in a tougher way to sexual content than it is to violence.  That's a topic for another time, only to say that as gratuitous sex in the media has desensitized us to the true meaning of our human sexuality, the trivialization of murder has done a similar thing to how we look at death.

In many horror films death is random, pointless and unmourned.  Without over analyzing things too much, I wonder if, as faith fades as a reference point in the popular culture, we don't actually see life itself in a similar way.  We are born, we forge a life of our choosing and we die. It's not that we don't mourn the dead, that we do.  But as the meaning of our existence becomes limited to the years we have here on earth, with no eternal consequences, death loses it's true meaning.  Death becomes an inconsolable tragedy because it really is an end, a black hole from which there is no return, so let's not talk about it.

What I experienced last weekend at the funeral of Br. Donald's mother was what happens when faith is the driving engine of our lives.  There were tears, for sure.  There was the pain and sting of separation.  I would not presume to guess at the internal thoughts and feelings, so I won't.  I can only testify that in the midst of the obvious grief, there was a peace as well; a peace that Mrs. Caldwell had run the race and used the last months of her life to prepare well to meet the Lord.  There was a peace among the children that, just as their mother had fulfilled her vocation as a wife and mother, they attended her in her need, fulfilling their call as children.  Peace comes when we know what our vocation is and fulfill it.  It gives our life meaning and makes regret a forgotten word.

It is not that Christians should face death stoically or with some affected cheerfulness.  Remember that Christ cried at the grave of Lazarus.  But understanding that life has meaning, that meaning is wrapped up in finding and fulfilling our vocation and that our vocation has eternal implications should give us peace.  We mourn, we cry, certainly, but not without hope.  And death is not something we should be afraid to talk about, but actually prepared for.  We do this by living everyday to the fullest, always ready to start the next phase when the Lord comes calling.