Spring
is the season most associated
with hope, promise, lightness of
heart; so too, one would expect
that a 19 year-old, in college and
in love would be filled with hope,
promise, lightness of heart. Yet, in the
Wasteland, T.S. Eliot writes, “April is
the cruelest month, breeding/Lilacs
out of the dead land, mixing/
Memory and desire, stirring/
Dull roots with spring rain.” And
tragically, I recently learned that the
19 year-old stepson of a friend of
mine committed suicide. It seems that
neither life nor death fit into neat
packages.
The distressing news from my friend caused me to ponder awhile on the complexity of the way we deal with (or do not deal with death). It seems to me that we are too familiar with the death in the abstract, but often we push away the tangible aspects of death. The pope, and many others have identified contemporary society as “a culture of death.” Indeed, one only has to look at the TV Guide, at movie listings, and at newspaper headlines to realize that death is a backdrop to modern life. From the popular forensic investigation television shows to the public debate on suicide bombings, war, capital punishment, euthanasia, and abortion, it is easy to see that death is often removed from its life context. Perhaps this is why some social commentators have identified modern first world societies as becoming desensitized to the idea of death.
It is abundantly clear that our society is uncomfortable dealing with death and mourning. Heidegger suggests that if we live authentically, we are “beings unto death.” Death, and therefore, mourning are a natural part of our existence and we must be conscious of this. Yet, as I am sure all of us can attest, there is an awkwardness that surrounds wakes, funerals, memorials, and burials. How often when near a person in mourning have you heard someone mutter (or even thought yourself) “I don’t know what to say”? John Donne reminds us in the famous phrase from his Meditation XVII, “. . . any [one’s] death diminishes me,/because I am involved in [humanity]; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” No matter how uncomfortable the circumstances, as Christians, it is incumbent upon all of us to comfort the mourner. James instructs us “to care for the orphans and widows in their distress.” (Jas 1:27) We are not called upon to be eloquent or even profound, simply to care and express our care. So, we pray for the faithfully departed, for their loved ones, and for us . . . for we are all of Christ’s body.
Certainly, space does not permit an exhaustive discussion of this topic, but my point is that unlike the cultural predisposition, Christian faith embraces death and provides for mourners. In a Christian context, death and hope meet. The pain and suffering associated with dying and mourning are not vanquished, but the despair and helplessness which can accompany dying and loss are given a context in the life, passion, death, resurrection, and assumption of our savior, Jesus Christ; in the faith of a God of consolation who turns the darkness of death into the dawn of new life.
A deeper understanding of death unravels for us as we experience each loss of a loved one and permit God to wipe away our every tear. The texts of our funeral rites are replete with beautiful images of the hope born through baptism, none perhaps more tender or beautiful than In Paradisum: “May the angels lead you into paradise: may the martyrs receive you at your coming, and receive you into the holy city, Jerusalem. May the choir of angels receive you, and with Lazarus, who once was poor, may you have everlasting rest.” Unfortunately, many of us never have an opportunity to sit with the texts of the Order of Christian Funerals unless called upon to choose the readings for a funeral liturgy. A reading of the prayers, selected scriptural readings, and even the flow of the rites themselves, offers a rich understanding of Christian way of life and death.
Helping youth to come to grips with the conflicting ideas about dying and death is daunting, but it is something they will confront with or without our assistance. As difficult as it may seem, we cannot shirk sharing this part of our faith with them. It’s so much easier to share our thoughts on life’s mysteries; let us not forget to share our thoughts on the mystery of risen life. Likewise, we should encourage our youth to comfort the mourners, no matter how awkward they may feel. This was one of the many gifts my mother passed onto me; whenever a neighbor lost a loved one, she made sure that the entire family paid a visit to show our concern. Whenever one of us children baulked at the idea, my mother’s apt response was “This is what Christians do.” And, so we did. And so the ritual continues in my life today; as difficult as it is to comprehend suicide and a young life cut short, I pray for strength to assist my friends through their grief.