Restoration, the inspiring newspaper of Madonna House, has printed a remarkable letter in its November issue. It's written by a dying priest to his physician. Let me share some of it with you...
"Dear Doctor,
The other day, one of the staff related to me the conversation she had with you. She said that you expressed a concern that I do not seem to really appreciate the seriousness of my condition.
Because of my admiration for you, and because it makes a difference to me what you perceive, I would like to share with you a little of my philosophy of life. This philosophy has guided me through much of my 73 years of living.
It would require a book for me to fully describe this 73-year journey, but let if suffice to say that I have experienced, like everyone, alternate moments of discovery, of confusion, of misguided anger, of understanding, of joy, of love, of frustration, and of hope.
Having experienced the succession of and repetition of all these emotions, I have arrived at a lesson that can be succinctly stated: “I am not afraid to die.”
The unawareness by others that I live by this philosophy, often causes them to misinterpret my reactions to life as nonchalance or denial.
It is not a surprise to me that you could interpret my actions in this way. I can imagine that when you have to give a diagnosis of an illness as potentially fatal or terminal, such news must often be received with great sorrow, disappointment, and fear.
I have not adopted my lack of fear of dying in defiance of life, nor have I arrived at it from a stance of defeatism or pessimism. Rather, I have come to understand in my “Walk” that this life is not all there is to Life.
Moreover, it is a truism that we all have to “walk the talk.”
When we Catholics celebrate the Mass on Sunday, we recite the Profession of Faith. To me, the closing line in this Creed is most pertinent in our journey through this life, for it says: “We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”
We humans are quick to hurl the epithet of “hypocrite” at one another, especially toward the ordained clergy who are often accused of not “walking the talk.”
However, I have always maintained to my congregation that I consider it to be a supreme hypocrisy to boldly proclaim this line in the Creed and then proceed to live as though I am frightened as hell of death."
I'm perhaps still a bit too young and a bit too healthy to know whether I could sign my name to that letter. But I hope so. It may not be hypocrisy to live in fear of death but it certainly isn't what Jesus wants for his disciples.
And even if I'm not sure whether I fear my death or not, it's not the only death we fear.
St. Paul makes this clear in the second reading today. He is writing more about grief for others than fear for ourselves. He tells us how the Christian should confront the death of loved ones. He doesn't want us to be "uninformed" about those who have died--he wants to us, like the dying priest, to understand what our faith teaches about God's promises of eternal life.
And because we are informed, because we believe, we are not to "grieve as others do who have no hope."
Notice Paul doesn't say "don't grieve." There are some religious groups that say that, denying the legitimate place of sorrow. He is speaking of how Christians grieve--looking "forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come."
Long before I thought of my own death, I feared the loss of my mother and father. So this is something I can talk about without hypocrisy.
Despite my worries about the inevitable death of my parents, St. Paul's words did sink into my heart : "since we believe that Jesus died and again" we believe that "through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died."
When my mother and father reached the end of their lives, I really was comforted by the faith we will profess together a few minutes from now. And those experiences have strengthened the virtue of hope in me.
So when death comes closer, I expect I could write a letter at least close to what Father Sam Craig sent to his doctor. And in the meantime, I hope that you and I will encourage one another, as St. Paul tells us, with the promise that we will be with the Lord forever, together with all those who have died.
May they rest in peace--and may we live in hope.
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Although you can read the whole letter using the link to Restoration at the top, here is the inspiring conclusion that I did not quote in the homily:
"None of us can be certain of how
others will eulogize or memorialize us once we have crossed over the “bar.” But
I will be satisfied if I have left just one person with this agenda for life:
Live with conviction: for the person who does not stand for something will fall for anything.
Learn with an insatiable appetite, for he who thinks he has nothing else to learn is among the living dead.
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