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.

Dennis's book are all award winners. For more posts by and about Dennis and his popular books, click HERE.

Sign up for the MSI Press LLC newsletter

Follow MSI Press on TwitterFace Book, and Instagram. 

Interested in publishing with MSI Press LLC?
Check out information on how to submit a proposal.

Interested in receiving a free copy of this or any MSI Press LLC book
 in exchange for reviewing a current or forthcoming MSI Press LLC book?
Contact editor@msipress.com.

Want an author-signed copy of this book?
Purchase the book at 25% discount (use coupon code FF25)
and concurrently send a written request to orders@msipress.com. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In Memoriam: Carl Don Leaver

A Publisher's Conversation with Authors: Book Marketing vs Book Promotion