Guest Post from Dr. Dennis Ortman, MSI Press Author: Dying and Living
Since today is my birthday, this guest post seemed very apropos!
DYING AND LIVING
“Yet if we love one another, God dwells in us,
and his love is brought to perfection in us.”
--I John 4: 12
I watched
Dad die. I was only seventeen at the time, too young to understand much of what
was going on. My father had been diagnosed with throat cancer two years before,
a disease common to heavy smokers and drinkers. He underwent brutal cobalt
treatments and lost his voice. He was in constant pain, unrelieved by the
medications. For the last three months of his life he was bedridden at home.
Mom, my
brothers, and I took turns sitting by his bedside, mostly in silence. He could
not speak, and I did not know what to say. It was decided not to tell Dad he
was dying, so he could keep up his hope. But he knew. The priest later told us
how Dad spoke with him about his dying and not to tell us. So no one said
anything about the elephant in the room.
In the
silence during my death watch, many thoughts raced through my mind. My mind was
anything but quiet during the silence. I thought about my relationship with my
father and how angry I was about his drinking. Then, I felt so sorry for him in
his unrelieved suffering. I even admired him. He never complained. This
agitated man seemed to be at peace. I imagined him doing penance for his
drinking. At the same time, a war was going on in me. Something was dying, and
something was being born. My simmering anger was beginning to die, and a seed
of compassion was being planted.
My older
brother John was in the room with Dad when he finally passed. I came home from
work to hear the news. It hit me like a thunderbolt, as if I did not know it
was coming.
Most of us
react to death as a shock. One minute we are here, and the next we are gone. As
much as we prepare ourselves, we are never quite ready. We know it is coming,
but never quite believe we will be visited. Death comes like a thief in the
night.
Like some
part of all of us, our culture encourages the denial of death. We believe in
the power of science, which promises unending prosperity and progress. Some
scientists even hold out the hope of the immortality of a reconstructed body,
the discovery of the fountain of youth. No wonder we are so shocked when death
arrives at our doorstep.
What if we
thought of death differently? Not as an abrupt end at a discrete moment, but as
a continuous process throughout life? Not as a once-for-all event, but as part
of a life-long journey, or even a continued journey beyond the grave? Perhaps
we would not be so frightened, and even learn to entertain a familiar guest.
TRANSITIONS
The
numerous reports of near death experiences suggest that dying is a process.
Those who have interviewed and studied the reports of those who have had this
fairly common experience observe similar patterns. The briefly deceased
experience an altered state of peace, separated from their bodies. They could
see doctors working on them and the reactions of family members. They report
entering a dark tunnel with a bright light at the end. Some call that Light God
or Christ. Their lives flash before them in review, like a final judgment. Then
they struggle to decide whether or not to return to their normal life, often
feeling resistant because of their overwhelming peace. When they return, they
feel changed by the experience to become more spiritual persons, more tolerant
and loving. (See Raymond Moody. Reflections on Life After Life,
London: Corgi, 1978)
Throughout
the centuries, many have reported such experiences, such as Plato, Pope Gregory
the Great, Tolstoy, and Jung. In addition to present day scientists, Buddhist
teachers and saints have experienced and studied the phenomenon. In the eighth
century, a classic book was written on the subject entitled The Tibetan
Book of the Dead. In his recent commentary of the text, Sogyal Rinpoche (The
Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, New York: HarperOne, 2002) relates
that there is a thin line between life and death. Following the teachings of
the Buddha, he attests that all life is marked by impermanence. Everything
changes and is in process of becoming. Everything is connected. All the parts
interact and create the whole.
Specifically,
Sogyal observes that we move continuously through time. This movement is marked
by transitions, called “bardos,” which occur throughout both life and death.
The greatest and most charged of these times is the moment of death, which
unfolds in a process. The “painful bardo” of dying is similar to the near death
experience, except it is a transition to rebirth. After the dissolution of
bodily and mental functions, the consciousness remains awake. In fact, it is
seven times more aware than during ordinary life. We experience a bright Light
which exposes our own radiance and character defects. We have the opportunity
in this intermediate state to purify ourselves of our unwholesome attachments
and become liberated. Or we can cling to them and be reborn in another form.
What both
Moody and Sogyal describe is similar to Catholic teachings about purgatory. At
death, we face our merciful Creator before His judgment seat. The light of
God’s love exposes both our divine beauty and sinfulness. Ashamed of our sins
and aware of the consequences of our actions, we have the opportunity to
repent. God’s love purifies us, burning away our imperfections. God then
invites us into one of the many dwelling places He has prepared for us.
Our
purgatory, the opportunity to cleanse us of our imperfections, can occur during
our life as we prepare for the moment of death. Sogyal points out that life
itself is a “natural bardo,” a transition marked by constant change. The dance
of change involves a process of something new replacing something old, of dying
and rebirth. It is a time for purifying our minds so we can see the Light. As
Jesus taught, observing nature, that a grain of wheat cannot bear fruit unless
it dies.
Death is
present from the moment we are born. We constantly die to ourselves in so many ways
so new life can be born. We are preparing ourselves for the moment of death
when we surrender the whole of our lives to God. Sogyal wrote about the
importance of this preparation: “We often wonder: ‘How will I be when I did?’
The answer is that whatever state of mind we are in now, whatever kind of
person we are now: that’s what we will be like at the moment of death, if we do
not change. This is why it is so absolutely important to use this lifetime to
purify our mindstream, and so our basic being and character, while we can.” (p.
115-116) Our reaction on our deathbed should be no surprise. We die as we live.
LONGING AND LOSS
Death is so
frightening because at that moment we lose our whole world. We live with so
many longings, both known and unknown. We may know intellectually that all
things are impermanent. They arise and pass away. But our every instinct cries
out for us to make something or someone permanent and secure in our life. We
long for a failsafe refuge as we grieve our losses. We struggle to accept the
limits life forces on us. Freud alerted us to this fundamental conflict. He
taught that we possess a life instinct (Eros) which motivates us to create,
preserve, nurture, and enjoy life. We also have a death instinct (Thanatos)
which drives us toward aggression, destruction, and death. We fight the battles
on three fronts:
Body:
We love
life and want to live it to the full. We spend most of our energy creating a
comfortable life for ourselves and those we love. We value our bodies and take
our health seriously. Perhaps, without even knowing it, we may begin to
identify ourselves with our bodies. Only our life in the body matters to us.
Death threatens to take it all away.
Science
reminds us that our bodies are not as solid as we think. We are made up of
molecules that are constantly being exchanged with the universe. For the most
part, our bodies are remade every seven years. So what body are we losing at
death? Furthermore, religion reminds us that we are made from the dust of the
earth. When we die, we return to the earth, our mother. Our molecules will then
be reborn into some other life form. Giving up our familiar notions of
separateness and specialness may feel like a painful death.
Our faith
gives us hope in this struggle. Jesus rose from the dead. He appeared to enter
a bardo state between Good Friday and Easter Sunday when he descended into
hell, the region of the dead. He rose with a glorified body. Paul proclaimed
that we all shall one day be resurrected and that even now we are the body of
Christ in the world. We are the sacrament of God’s presence. Paul also
envisioned that the whole creation, now in agony, would be transformed. Our
once separate bodies are destined to be something greater, merged with a
universe that is the manifestation of the Divine.
Mind:
We want the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Our natural love of truth
drives us to know more and more. We want to know Absolute Truth, so we keep
searching. We believe knowledge is power. It gives us control over our lives
and the world. Ignorance and illusion imprison us, while wisdom frees us to be
our true selves. Death terrifies us because it is a leap into the unknown and
unknowable.
We may tell
ourselves that we fear the unknown. But what makes that dangerous? Admitting
our ignorance can stimulate our curiosity, lead us to explore, and give us the
joy of discovery. The truth is that we tend to cling to what is familiar for a
sense of security. We develop comfortable habits of thinking and rest secure in
our opinions of ourselves and others. We may completely identify with our
thoughts, believing that what we think must be true and unquestionable. We
entertain so many judgments about how the world, our life, and others should
be. Even if our prejudiced ideas harm others, we do not question them.
Challenging our illusions can feel like a death. We die to old ways of thinking
so new insights may emerge.
Paul wrote,
“Now we see indistinctly, as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. My
knowledge is imperfect now; then I shall know even as I am known.” (I
Corinthians 13: 12) Our faith gives us hope that beyond death our deepest
longings for the Supreme Truth will be satisfied. Heaven is often described as
enjoying the “beatific vision.” We experience communion with God and achieve
perfect knowledge of God and ourselves. Perfect love creates perfect knowledge.
Spirit:
We long to
love and be loved. That is our highest aspiration. We were not created to be
alone. Love quickens our spirit, because it is the divine Spirit within and
among us. God is love. “No one has ever seen God. Yet if we love one another
God dwells in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.” (I John 4: 12)
The perfection of love brings us our greatest joy. Death frightens us so much
because we die alone. We dread separation from our loved ones.
While love
brings happiness, sorrow often accompanies it. Throughout our life, we
unavoidably suffer many separations from our beloved and experience intense
grief. Furthermore, relationships demand personal sacrifice to survive and
thrive. Relationships are like mirrors that enable us to see ourselves most
clearly. They expose both our strengths and our weaknesses. Jesus warned us
that we must die to ourselves, take up his cross daily, if we want to be his
disciple. He called us to love as he did. How often then we will need to
confront our self-centered desires and character defects that rupture our
relationships and cause misery.
Our faith
in the immortality of the soul gives us hope. Nothing can separate us from the
love of God, not even death. Our love shares in the eternity of God and never
ends. Our relationships will never really end. The Book of Revelations presents
a vision of our future: “After this I saw before me a huge crowd which no one could
count from every nation and race, people and tongue. They stood before the
throne of the Lamb, dressed in long white robes and holding palm branches in
their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, ‘Salvation is from our God, who is
seated on the throne and from the Lamb!” (Revelations 7: 9-10) At every
Eucharist we anticipate the heavenly gathering and banquet which promises
lasting joy.
Our life is
a dress rehearsal for our final performance at death. As we live, so we die.
THE LORD’S PRAYER
Living the
Lord’s Prayer can aid us in the transitions of living and dying:
“Our
Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”
We call God
our Father, an address of intimacy. He is not my Father alone, but all of ours.
We are together His children, His beloved. We remind ourselves of His
transcendence, that He is utterly beyond us in heaven. We together praise His
name, enacting the revealed vision of our final end. Together we will be united
in love praising God for all eternity. In the midst of the fast-flowing stream
of life, we need a rock of refuge in the eternal, the immutable, the supreme.
“Your
kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
What guides
our living and our dying is the will of God. Just as life and death are not as
separate as we imagine, so heaven and earth are more united than we think.
God’s kingdom, which is the consciousness of the Divine Presence, rules
everywhere and always. In the midst of all the changes of our lives, both
wanted and unwanted, we try to discern God’s hand at work. We believe He is our
loving Father. Whatever happens, no matter how difficult, we believe comes from
His love. We surrender to and even love our fate. Instead of being selfishly
willful, we pray to know what God wants of us in our unique life circumstance.
“Give us
this day our daily bread.”
God is not
only transcendent, utterly beyond. He is also imminent, closer to us than we
are to ourselves. We pray to Him daily for care, assured of His nurturance. We
pray to the God who dwells in our hearts. So we pray to do what we can to care
for ourselves and others. Our God is not a magician who works miracles without
inviting our cooperation.
“Forgive us
our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
The heart of
the Gospel is mercy and forgiveness, not judgment and punishment. We take a
great risk in making this prayer. We ask God to forgive us as we forgive
others. That means we must be godlike in all our relationships if we want to be
forgiven. We commit to extend mercy to others, especially our enemies and to
ourselves. We are often our greatest enemy.
“Lead us
not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Each day I
pray that God cleanse me from my unknown faults. We have an enormous capacity
for self-deception. There are so many negative influences on our lives, from
within and without, that escape our notice. We beg God to be our Protector, so
that we can do His will whole-heartedly. What keeps us from knowing God and
loving others is our character defects that arise from our selfish desires.
We die more often than we imagine. In our path to growth, we die to our old selves to make room for the new. Each night we fall asleep. That is a “little death” that rehearses our final passing. To fall asleep, we must be relaxed and quiet our worrying mind. We have to learn to let go. Our whole life is dedicated to surrendering to God’s will so that at the moment of death we can peacefully fall asleep in His arms.
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