Our Lives Are Short
It is terrifying to truly consider that each one of us will die.
There is nothing that fills me with such fear, such dread as death itself.
In death, the abyss of nothingness looms before us. How can we possibly comprehend it?
We can't. We look away. Our attentions are easily diverted from this
simple truth: time flies, remember death. Etched on gravestones,
and in old churches, written down again and again, trying to remind the
frightened mind of this truth – and still, we will not remember this.
Years ago I was in a program for spiritual directors at Shalem
Institute. I was only in my 20’s then, and surrounded by people a few
years and decades older. We met in a group for a couple of years during
the training. In our group, one of the members had recently suffered a
heart attack and then by-pass surgery. He was speaking quite simply of
the terror of realizing that he would die, and probably in just a few
years (in fact, as I think of him, I realize he is probably long dead
now). I was not at all comfortable with such morbid talk.
When he finished, I made some glib remark about living in the present
moment, something unreal and spiritual that did not in any way connect
with the truth that was trying to convey itself to us in that moment.
And others were easily influenced by the high-sounding words rolling
off my tongue so that I was about to divert the whole conversation in
another direction. (And it is easy to divert a group conversation away
from such an important truth). Fortunately, we had a group leader who
understood her duty to seek the truth no matter what, and she quickly
rebuked me and lead us back towards considering this simple fact – that
we all will die. That was then, and continues to be now, a truth that
needs to plant itself front and center in our lives.
Do we stop to consider that, in any sort of real sense? Have we
honestly felt the terror of it? God can not come to us as good news if
we haven't. We don't get the Gospel without facing the real terror that
we feel in the face of death. The Gospel is not good news when we are
in denial – when we live in a dream, the gospel comes as a slap in the
face. When we are living in our these fantasies of our own “gifts”,
Christ comes to us with a sword, the Passion is unspeakable, and we
will avoid Good Friday like the plague.
So here we stand – at the edge of the abyss. We face the week of the
cross, Holy Week. Are we willing to stand here and look, honestly look,
at the fact that our lives are short indeed?
If we do, it will change us. It will open us for God in ways we had never thought possible.
A few weeks ago in the ECC class, we learned about Athanasius. There is
this famous phrase in Latin that I taught to the children – Athanasius contra mundum, Athanasius against the world.
It refers to Athanasius’ service of the truth. During his time, the
church was taken over by the Arian heresy – and that lasted after his
lifetime as well. All during his life, the church he loved was teaching
heresy and in his love for the truth, he could do only one thing, stand
against it. He had to seek and speak the truth, no matter what, and it
meant persecution, slander, suffering. But he did it anyway.
I think that Athanasius knew he was going to die, and he did not mind
dying to his ego before his body died. The Gospel asks that of us, to
take up our cross, to die before we die. Athanasius knew his life was
not his own, for he had pledged his life in service to God, so God
could do what he wanted with him. And if God wanted him to speak the
truth like a lone voice crying in the wilderness, he would do it, for
he was not interested in currying the favor of important people either
in the church or in the world. Athanasius held fast to the faith he
knew and would not be swayed by the popular opinions of the church of
his times. He could only be steadfast in his faith because he knew his
mortal life to be short.
If only we could remember that.
As we look at the cross that looms before us this week, it is good to
remember that each one of us faces just such a cross. And there is the
One who loves us beyond all telling. He has gone before us, He waits to
meet us, He will lead us through.
Amen.
The Rev. Edie Bird
Palm Sunday, March 16, 2008
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