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Category: Death & Dying

Death & Dying (8) -Dying Well

Confronting finitude

A status report on my Dying Well Plan. You can read my previous post HERE.

People who want to die well must be willing to confront their finitude. We do not have to accept death, invite it, or wish for it. But we must be prepared to say, “Yes, I am human and therefore mortal. One day I will die.” We cannot both cling to the indefinite extension of life and effectively prepare for death.

The Lost Art of Dying

Since committing to develop a Dying Well Plan, it has become clear any such plan is a contingency plan. Planning for death is a crap shoot. Death is enevitable, time and circumstances are TBD. However, there are reasonable probabilities for my remaining time, and few factors in my control; with that in mind I maintain my commitment.

“People who want to die well must be willing to confront their finitude.” — is a basic tenet embraced in the process of developing a Dying Well Plan. Living out that conviction exposes inherent cultural resistance. Someone who reminds you “…you are going to die” is probably not who you look forward to having a conversation with. Discretion and discernment remain a challenge.

Willingness to confront my finitude has focused my attention. I see and contemplate things related to my mortality previously ignored or unnoticed; funerals and sermons, obituaries and articles, podcasts, et al, flood my consciousness. I attribute that change to paying attention. Reminders of our finitude are ubiquitous.

For me, confronting finitude includes reading secular, theological and spiritual resources.I am currently enrolled in a Life Long Learning Class entitled “End of Life and Human Flourishing”. Field work includes frequent walks through Wilmore cemetery. There are spiritual implications “…beliefs about God and an afterlife, if we have them, are often abstractions. If we don’t accept the reality of death, we don’t need these beliefs to be anything other than mental assents.1Tim Keller

Despite my rational, conscious acknowledgment that I would die someday, the shattering reality of a fatal diagnosis provoked a remarkably strong psychological denial of mortality. Instead of acting on Dylan Thomas’s advice to “rage, rage against the dying of the light,” I found myself thinking, What? No! I can’t die. That happens to others, but not to me. When I said these outrageous words out loud, I realized that this delusion had been the actual operating principle of my heart.

Tim Keller

Confronting finitude reveals the substance of our faith. Keller discovered: I had to look not only at my professed beliefs but also at my actual understanding of God. Had it been shaped by my culture? Had I been slipping unconsciously into the supposition that God lived for me rather than I for him, that life should go well for me, that I knew better than God does how things should go?

Unlike Keller, I have not received news of pancreatic cancer, but the truth is I am dying, and you as well. That realization is producing an opportunity for healthy self-examination. Arthur Brooks observed; “If you insist on ignoring your own demise, you are likely to make decisions that cause you to sleepwalk through life. You may not be dead yet, but you’re not fully alive either.”

Looking to be more fully alive!

…people die. All of us. We live on an edge, and people tumble off all the time. For that reason, the truth of the faith does not disappear. It is never irrelevant. Indeed, in the light of the truth of our existence, Christ’s Pascha, his death and resurrection, is the only truly relevant thing. Only if Christ has trampled down death by death can we face the naked truth of our existence with hope.

Fr Stephen Freeman

STILL ON THE JOURNEY

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    Tim Keller

Death & Dying (7)- Facing Death

…. supposedly from a First Nations tribe: “When you came into this world, you cried and everyone smiled with joy at your arrival. When you leave this world, may you smile with joy and everyone cry at your leaving.”

The series of posts on death and dying have been challenging, exhausting, frustrating, disappointing and rewarding. One thing I have learned for sure: If you are looking to have an extended conversation with someone; don’t start with death or dying. Almost without exception, anytime I introduce death and dying into a conversation, the conversation either ceases or is diverted to more relevant subjects i.e. weather; prima facia evidence of the denial of death.
It is an interesting contrast that the consensus of scholars, theologians, psychologists, sociologists, et al is awareness of our mortality is essential to living life well.

As a Christ-follower I can truthfully say that I do not live with a conscious, abiding fear of death; however, should I unexpectedly come face to face with death, it would be terrifying and I would desperately seek to avoid it. Coming to grips with those conflicting realities, it no longer seems so curious people who believe most fervently in divine healing also cling most doggedly to the technology of mortals. I can empathize with the woman, when faced with the immanent death of a loved one said,
“No, Doctor,” she replied. “We are Christians, and we believe that Jesus can heal. We believe in miracles. You do whatever you can to keep him alive.”

A recent Harvard study found that patients with high levels of support from their religious communities are more likely to choose aggressive life support and to die in intensive-care units. They were also less likely to enroll in hospice. Why might this be?

Dugdale, L.S.. The Lost Art of Dying (p. 6)

Tim Keller in his article entitled”Growing My Faith in the Face of Death” describes his experience with the troubling paradox some Christians experience when faced with death and offers a possible answer to “Why might this be?”

One of the first things I learned was that religious faith does not automatically provide solace in times of crisis. A belief in God and an afterlife does not become spontaneously comforting and existentially strengthening. Despite my rational, conscious acknowledgment that I would die someday, the shattering reality of a fatal diagnosis provoked a remarkably strong psychological denial of mortality. Instead of acting on Dylan Thomas’s advice to “rage, rage against the dying of the light,” I found myself thinking, What? No! I can’t die. That happens to others, but not to me. When I said these outrageous words out loud, I realized that this delusion had been the actual operating principle of my heart.

The cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker argued that the denial of death dominates our culture, but even if he was right that modern life has heightened this denial, it has always been with us. As the 16th-century Protestant theologian John Calvin wrote, “We undertake all things as if we were establishing immortality for ourselves on earth. If we see a dead body, we may philosophize briefly about the fleeting nature of life, but the moment we turn away from the sight the thought of our own perpetuity remains fixed in our minds.” Death is an abstraction to us, something technically true but unimaginable as a personal reality.

For the same reason, our beliefs about God and an afterlife, if we have them, are often abstractions as well. If we don’t accept the reality of death, we don’t need these beliefs to be anything other than mental assents. A feigned battle in a play or a movie requires only stage props. But as death, the last enemy, became real to my heart, I realized that my beliefs would have to become just as real to my heart, or I wouldn’t be able to get through the day. Theoretical ideas about God’s love and the future resurrection had to become life-gripping truths, or be discarded as useless.

Tim Keller https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/03/tim-keller-growing-my-faith-face-death/618219/

I fear, like Keller, the actual operating principle of my heart and the heart of many Christians is :“What? No! I can’t die. That happens to others, but not to me.” Beliefs not subjected to a crucible of memento mori (“Remember! You will die!”) will atrophy and become mental assents; ultimately useless when death becomes a personal reality.

People who want to die well must be willing to confront their finitude. We do not have to accept death, invite it, or wish for it. But we must be prepared to say, “Yes, I am human and therefore mortal. One day I will die.” We cannot both cling to the indefinite extension of life and effectively prepare for death.

The Art of Dying

 I am a big fan of the ideas of the art of dying. I’ve given it a lot of thought. And had some experience not of time but of being with people and helping them find a holy death of some sorts. The thing about death is that it is outside of our grasp, in most cases. That means for me that it’s one of those absolute wild cards. We don’t know if we will go quietly or with scream, as we don’t know if we will be covered in blood or covered in a quilt. We don’t know if we will be glad life is over or clinging to the last vestiges of every breath. It’s such a wild card. And even if we plan well, we have no idea when where why how. So it’s gotta be more like jazz than like a symphony don’t you think?

Marilyn Elliott

How real are our beliefs?

STILL ON THE JOURNEY

Conversations Matter – Death and Dying (6)

a Theology of Death

It seems curious that the people who believe most fervently in divine healing also cling most doggedly to the technology of mortals.1Dugdale, L.S.. The Lost Art of Dying (p. 6).

It is indisputable our society is characterized by avoidance of death. Dominated by a secular ethos, such a reality is not surprising or unreasonable. What I find surprising and unreasonable is avoidance of death in many western Christian contexts. Any attempt to answer why will reveal numerous factors. One significant factor is the absence of a theology of death. A coherent theology of death, will not sanction avoidance, but will embrace death and give it its proper treatment.
This post examines Richard Beck’s book “The Slavery of Death” which I found helpful in developing a theology of death .

The Slavery of Death

The central contention of this book is that death, not sin, is the primary predicament of the human condition. Death is the cause of sin. More properly, the fear of death produces most of the sin in our lives.

The Slavery of Death (p. 3)

Beck’s contention, if correct, is a game changer. Subject to debate, the book makes a compelling case in favor of his contention. Wrestling with the possibility that sin is not the defining predicament of my life has touched and opened questions about much I have either taken for granted or left unexamined — original sin, salvation, substitutionary atonement, human depravity, satanic power, powers and principalities, timor mortis, and more, I am still processing and revisiting my thinking; in some cases I have come to new and different understandings. This post cannot do justice to the whole book. I will share some excerpts intended to stimulate enough curiosity that perhaps some will pursue a theology of death.


The reason Christ appeared was to free those who , in the words of Hebrews 2 : 15 , “ were all their lives enslaved to the fear of death . ”

…an exclusive focus on sin tends to oversimplify the dynamics of our moral struggles .

The power of death that the devil wields is characterized here as a slavery to the fear of death . It is not death per se that gives the devil power . It is , rather , the fear of death . It is this fear that creates the satanic influence , a fear that tempts us into sinful practices and lifestyles , a fear that keeps us demonically “ possessed ” in our idolatrous service to the principalities and powers .

Salvation , then , involves liberation from this fear . Salvation is emancipation for those who have been enslaved all of their lives by the fear of death . Salvation is a deliverance that sets us free from this power of the devil .

Jesus came to “ undo the works of the devil ” ( 1 John 3 : 8 )

Genesis 3 might be less interested in explaining why humans are “ depraved ” than it is in explaining why we die .

We do inherit a predicament from the Primal Couple , but what we inherit isn’t a moral stain . Rather , we inherit the world they have left us . We are exiles from Eden . The world around us is not as God intended it . Death exists , but this was not God’s plan . We were created for incorruption but find ourselves to be , in the words of Paul ( Romans 7 ) , possessors of bodies that are “ subject to death , ” a subjugation that brings about moral “ wretchedness . ”

…the issue here isn’t to displace the importance or role of sin in bringing about death , but to embed our understandings of human moral failure within a richer theological matrix .

if the satanic forces in our lives spring forth from the fear of death , then emancipation from this fear will move us from darkness to light , into a life characterized by a perfect love that has cast out fear .

To be set free from the slavery to the fear of death is to be liberated from self – interest in the act of genuine love . Thus the sign of Christ’s victory in our lives over sin , death , and the devil is the experience and expression of love . This is resurrection and life .

Death is—apart from God—the greatest moral power in this world, outlasting and subduing all other powers no matter how marvelous they may seem for the time being. This means, theologically speaking, that the object of allegiance and servitude, the real idol secreted within all idolatries, the power above all principalities and powers, —the idol of all idols—is death.2William Stringfellow

Resurrection in Christ, then, becomes freedom from death’s power in daily existence. William Stringfellow describes resurrection this way:
Resurrection . . . refers to the transcendence of the power of death and the fear or thrall of the power of death, here and now, in this life, in this world. Resurrection, thus, has to do with life and, indeed, the fulfillment of life before death. [Christ’s] power over death is effective not just at the terminal point of a person’s life but throughout one’s life, during this life in this world, right now. . . . His resurrection means the possibility of living in this life, in the very midst of death’s works, safe and free from death.


STILL ON THE JOURNEY

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    Dugdale, L.S.. The Lost Art of Dying (p. 6).
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    William Stringfellow