A psychologist recently wrote in the New York Times: “Death is an insult; the stupidest, ugliest thing that can happen to a human being.” In its bald brevity the sentence is startling. The instinctive Christian reaction is to deny it outright. But the longer I look at it, the more tempered is my reaction. That sentence has forced me to face up to a profound question: What does it mean for a human being to die?
Tulalip tribal leaders said: “These are good times and we’re not used to such a tragedy. We do not expect it… and it leaves us even more saddened.” The parents, students and loved ones of the Marysville-Pilchuck High School victims wrestle in their cruel days with answers to questions people have been searching for since the dawn of history: Is there a meaning to our lives? Is this all there is? Does God call us home and why so suddenly? Is there life after death?
Even for those blessed with the gift of faith, this sudden separation from their loved ones is a jarring event. Of all the losses, of all the hurts, of all the pains we experience in life, there is none as strong as death. In the midst of death, believers take comfort only in the embrace of friends and in the words of scripture. They feel the compassionate hugs and hear the promising words like those of the poet John in today’s Gospel.
Our old Catholic notion of the community of saints is an echo of the biblical meaning of life and death – that for those who desire to believe in things both seen and unseen, there is the hope of eternal life, where death is not the last word, but life goes on forever. It’s unfortunate that the images of the afterlife which Christians have used over the years have been so boring and static: people sitting at the right hand of God’s throne playing muzak on golden harps.
Again the Bible comes to our rescue since one of the best images of life after death comes from the Bible: the image of the banquet. I like that image not just because I like to eat and drink, but because the image of the banquet means sitting around the table with friends and loved ones, interesting guests and storytellers. When we invite others to the table, we invite them to more than a meal; we invite them into our hearts.
The image of the heavenly banquet, of people sharing, giving and receiving, reminds us that for God life is energy, movement, friendship. For God, death doesn’t mean the end of life, but a change in life. For God, death doesn’t mean an ultimate separation, but the beginning of a new meal. Quite simply, from the death of Christ life was born. Like Jesus, we will all be changed and we will all be there at his table one day.
That is why, for me, the most rapturous words in the Gospel are the short words our Lord spoke to his apostles the night before he died – pregnant words that sum up Christian existence: “I live, and you will live.” More accurately: “I have life, and so you will have life.” With these words, if anywhere, we have the core, the pith, the marrow of John’s Gospel. It is Jesus who has life. In fact, Jesus is life: “I am the life.”
Don’t misunderstand me. I am not asking you to be enthusiastic about death. Even the Son of God did not quite scale those heights. I suspect I shall never really want to die. Not because my faith is infirm. Rather because there is so much life, God’s life, right here – in myself, in you. The authentic Christian tension is not between life and death, but between life and life. “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise them on the last day.”
Paul A. Magnano
Pastor