PHOTO: Mary van Balen – In scholars study lounge, Collegeville Institute “I have a prayer request for you,” my sister said. “A young man, twenty-six, discovered that he has stage four lung cancer.” Never a smoker. The prognosis is unknown, but it does not appear likely that he has long to live.
“It seems I am being constantly reminded of the fragility of life.” my daughter said when I told her of a friend of ours who was hit by a car while riding on his bicycle and sustained serious spinal chord injury.
“There is one word you will never hear around here,” my friend in the nursing home told me: “Death.”
She was right. At least from what I heard when I visited my father there. I suppose we were all trying to make the last years or months of life as full as we could. Conversation was often difficult since many of those living there were hard of hearing or very tired. Around the dining room table we talked about the food and about family or friends who had come to visit. When someone from the small group died, no one told the others. The absence of the table mate spoke for itself. Once, when I asked about someone who was gone, the aide whispered that he had died. They didn’t usually tell the others because they didn’t want to upset them.
I am sure this is done with all good intentions. Perhaps the news would upset some of the people there, but the unwillingness to talk about death struck me as strange in a place where most people go knowing they will likely die there or in the nearby hospital.
This conversation came to mind when I discovered that today is the feast of Saint Camillus of Lellis (1550 – 1614). Born in Italy, Camillus left a life of compulsive gambling and riotous living to become a servant of the sick and dying and eventually founded an order dedicated to that ministry. Serving the sick during the time of the Plague often meant putting one’s own life in jeopardy, and the willingness of Camillus and his order to do that made the commonly heard phrase, To serve the sick, even with danger to ones own life,” became a fourth vow of the order.
You can read more about the Camillians at their website. One interesting fact is the large red cross that Camillus chose to put on their black cassocks was the original “red cross,” a symbol we now associate with care for those in great need.
Our unwillingness to talk about death was brought to my attention yesterday in a piece on the Huff Post Religion Blog by Travis Reed that highlighted Stanley Hauerwas and his video series, “Living with Death.” A prominent theologian, Hauerwas contends that just what those in Medieval Europe feared was what we want: a sudden death. Those in Medieval times wanted to know they were dying so they could make peace with their family, friends, church, and God. Hauerwas thinks that modern folks fear death more than God and work hard to avoid dealing with it.
He raises interesting questions. While life is surely a gift to be celebrated and safe guarded, death is also a gift. At least that is what St. Francis thought, calling it “sister death.” More recently, Henri Nouwen wrote a wonderful book, “Our Greatest Gift,” that is a meditation on dying and caring for the dying. Many books dealing with this issue are available, but the words of my old friend echo in my head. No one wants to talk about death, especially to those who are dying.
I include here the video clip of Stanley Hauerwas. It is thought provoking, no matter our thoughts about the subject. While I would not want to embrace an image of an angry, vengeful God who needs appeased before I die, as those in Camillus’ time might have had, I do see the value in wanting time to prepare for our final act on earth.
Of course, all our life is preparation, filled with “little deaths” that present opportunities to prepare for or physical death. And living life well and full is a preparation, too. As Mary Oliver says in her poem When Death Comes:
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder/if I have made of my life something particular, and real./I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,/ or full of argument./
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”
Life and death. Inseparable mysteries. Gifts.
Speak Your Mind