Prop
13c.07
August 5, 2007
One
of my all time favorite movie lines is from The Princess
Bride:
“Hello.
My name is Ynigo Montoya.
You killed
my father. Prepare to die.”
Of course, the wicked count whom Ynigo addresses does no
such thing.
He prepares instead to defend himself. He runs.
He resorts to trickery, violence, bribery – exhausts
all options.
But at no point does he prepare to die.
I wonder whether he had a clue how to go about it.
I wonder whether we do.
I wonder what difference it makes for our life now.
The author of Ecclesiastes was looking for a way to live
that counted
for something.
He considered devoting his life to acquiring stuff.
But then he realized the basic adage “You can’t
take it with you.”
–
so a life of acquisition
was rendered meaningless
by death.
In today’s parable, the prosperous fool
has already
lived a life of acquisition;
now he plans to kick
back and enjoy it,
relax into a life of
hedonism – “eat, drink, and be merry.”
But again death intervenes and renders the life of hedonism
just as
meaningless.
The fool had failed to prepare for death.
He wasn’t rich toward God.
Some years back, anthropologist Ernest Becker wrote
a classic
book, The Denial of Death.
Becker said most of our nuttiness, neurosis, and failure
to live well
stems from
our refusal to face our mortality
– the basic fact that we will eventually die.
Until we face death, we cannot truly live.
We can dare to face death, Becker said,
only by
giving ourselves to something bigger,
something that will
outlive us
– preferably something eternal.
Runners of races know that you can’t win a race
by running
to the finish line.
To win the race, you have to run through the finish line
well into
the space beyond.
Just so, a life cannot be well-lived,
with our
focus this side of life.
We need another world in view
if we are
to live well in this one.
Zen roshi Phillip Kapleau says,
“The
way we die reflects he way we have lived.
A good death
puts the stamp on a good life . . .
But if we have
lived a life of emotional turmoil and conflict,
or a selfish inane existence, our dying will be troubled
and painful.”
Kapleau cites Tolstoy’s novel, The Death of Ivan
Ilyich as an illustration:
“Tolstoy describes
the . . . spiritual suffering of the dying Ilyich,
who in the moment of
truth understands that in itself death is not frightening.
Rather, what evokes
the greatest pain is the type of life he has led
– the knowledge
his life has been sinful,
not in the commonly
accepted moral sense but in relation to the inner voice,
what we might call conscience. . .
(H)e feels that his
life was useless and ill spent.”
Contrast the fictional Ilyich with the 18th Century
New England clergyman,
Jonathan Edwards.
His biographer, George Marsden, says,
“Edwards spent
his whole life preparing to die . . .
(He) worked constantly
to cultivate gratitude, praise, worship,
and dependence on his Savior.
Whatever his failings,
he attempted to see Christ’s love in all things,
to walk according to God’s precepts,
and to give up attachments to worldly
pleasures in anticipation
of that closer spiritual union that death
would bring.”
Jonathan Edwards died of a sudden illness just after moving
to Princeton.
His wife, Sarah, had not yet moved so he sent word to her
by their daughter.
He called his daughter to his deathbed and said,
“Dear Lucy,
it seems to . . . be the will of God
that I must shortly
leave you;
therefore, give my kindest love to my dear wife,
and tell her
that the uncommon union
which has so
long subsisted between us,
has been of such
a nature as I trust is spiritual,
and therefore
will continue forever . . .”
There are loves that are for a moment, loves that are for
a lifetime,
and loves that
will last forever.
Jonathan Edwards’ love for Sarah was of the third
kind.
He could love like that because he lived at a deeper level
than ordinary,
a level too deep for death to erase
it.
There is a kind of life that is mortal, transitory.
But it’s possible to plant ourselves in a deeper kind
of life,
a life
that may not make sense in this world;
it may
not acquire as much stuff or bask in as much pleasure
–
but it is a life of love deeper than death,
a life that is eternal because
it’s godly;
it shares in the divine nature.
We
are here temporarily.
We will spend considerably more time in the nearer presence
of God.
Are we prepared for that – are we in shape for it?
Are we “cultivating gratitude, praise, worship and
dependence on our Savior”?
Are we, like
Jonathan Edwards, looking for “Christ’s love
in all things,
walking according to God’s
precepts,
giving up our worldly attachments”?
Are we true to the inner voice of conscience,
or are we, like
Ivan Ilyich, just conforming to social expectations?
Are we building our lives with the stuff of eternity,
or with use-once-then-throw-away
disposable values?
It isn’t a matter of being good so God won’t
punish us.
It’s a matter of shaping our souls for eternal life.
C. S. Lewis noted that as time passes
we get more and
more the way we are.
If that should go on for 90 years or so,
it might not
make much difference.
But a character trait that goes on growing for eternity
is another matter.
If we cultivate a little kindness now,
over the course of eternity, it may grow into
something splendid.
If we cultivate a little bitterness now, a little greed,
a little narcissism,
over the course of eternity, it may grow into
something truly monstrous.
We are shaping our souls now with every thing we do,
every prayer
we say or don’t say,
every time we praise God
or ignore God,
every act of kindness and
every act of indifference.
We are shaping our souls now.
When we have “shuffled off this mortal coil,”
our souls will
grow large, very large indeed
– so it
makes all the difference how we shape them.
That’s why we need to prepare to die,
and prepare to
live again.
We prepare through the sacraments, through prayer and study.
We prepare through service, generosity, and compassion.
We prepare through daily imitation of our Lord Jesus Christ
who is the Way,
and the Truth, and the Life,
and who said,
“Take up your cross and follow me.”
Amen.
