So instead of complaining about how bad Trump is and how he is taking us down the dark road of authoritarianism, let’s ponder another cheerful topic, death. Now that Embry and I live at Collington, a continuing care retirement community of over 300 independent living units plus assisted living and memory care, it is impossible to ignore that all human beings die. Collington has over 400 residents whose average age has got to be in the mid-eighties or even older. Between 35 and 45 people die every year averaging close to one every week. You might conclude that being reminded on a regular basis that there is a beginning and an end to human life is depressing, but it is not. That is just the way it is for us Homo sapiens on the planet Earth. Most old folks here at Collington—as is true I suspect for all CCRCs– are survivors. We have lived long lives, outliving our life expectancy at birth by many years. Many here like us have much to be thankful for—wonderful children and grandchildren, satisfying careers, strong friendships, and generally good health. We all have also have made mistakes and have had our share of hard knocks. Many of us have lost spouses. But I would say that in general we are the lucky ones. Most of us, I also suspect, focus not on the inevitable end of our lives but rather on getting as much out of life as we can in this moment, running our last lap. I have called it squeezing the last drops out of the lemon.
It is also true that the checking out process is much more difficult and painful for some more than it is for others. Disability, pain and memory loss are the major culprits, and few get a totally free ride. Like many my age, I occasionally glance through the obituaries in The Washington Post and am amazed at how many obits compiled by funeral homes start off with “so-and-so died peacefully, surrounded by friends and loving family.” Really? I don’t think that is the way it usually works, and sadly for some the experience is very painful. Some have been dealt very bad hands for the checking out process. Life (and death) is not fair.
The question lurking in the shadows for all of us humans– but especially us octogenarians and older–is, of course, what happens next. This is where I get into trouble. Now as some may know, I am a “cradle Episcopalian” who has attended church regularly for my entire life except for a couple of lapses due to church fatigue. Embry has been more of a stalwart than me mainly because she loves singing in the choir. In any event we have hung in there through the various ups and downs, scandals and recoveries of the Episcopal churches we have attended. I even graduated from Union Theological Seminary in New York City and for a short while was a “postulant” in the Episcopal Church headed for ordination. Fortunately for me, my bishop was a feisty old guy with a big heart, a good sense of humor and a keen eye for people like me who had trouble with all the theological baggage and no business becoming an Episcopal priest. He did me a huge favor by advising me that for every year spent at Union— “that heretical Protestant seminary”- I would do “penance” at Nashotah House, an Anglo Catholic, hardcore, orthodox Episcopal seminary in the backwoods of Wisconsin someplace. Easy call and we parted ways.
Where I get into trouble is that even though I have stuck it out in church attendance, I continue to have the same nagging questions that so many others have about what happens next and what this short, fragile life is really all about. We Homo sapiens are just one of many thousands of species who over a course of millions of years evolved and eventually clawed our way to the top of the food chain. We live on one small, beautiful planet circling a run-of-the-mill star in a nondescript galaxy in a universe that scientists now believe contains something like a trillion galaxies. All this began with a “Big Bang” some 13.8 billion years ago and is still expanding with mysterious “dark matter” and black holes somehow holding it all together.
Can any of us Homo sapiens really figure out what all this means? Sorry, above our pay grade.
And yet we think we are it? That no “advanced life” exists anywhere else? That a divine deity we call “God” created us in “His image” and that when we die—if we believe the “right things”—we will go to heaven and live with Him for eternity? Well, that is what many who call themselves Christians say they believe. And many of those people also believe that if you do not believe the same thing they do you are going to spend eternity burning in hell, which some still believe is located near the center of the Earth.
Please.
Now you know why I was not ordained.
This year I attended a funeral of a dear friend. At the end of the service, the Presbyterian minister proclaimed that he had no doubt whatsoever, “absolutely none,” that this fine person now deceased was sitting in heaven with God on his right and Jesus on his left. When I complained to a friend that I thought this was going a bit too far, he responded, “Joe, if you do not believe this, number one, you aren’t a Christian and number two, if you do not believe that, life is not worth living.”
I immediately changed the subject.
But what you don’t believe is not a substitute for what you do believe and here I have to admit I fall woefully short. I do not have an answer as to what happens to us after we die. The answer to this, I believe, is that we have no choice but to live with the uncertainty. What we can do is celebrate the lives of those we lose, mourn for their loss and comfort those in pain. And we can be thankful for our own lives and those we love on this extraordinary planet.
I know that there are those reading this that are asking, ok, I get it, but why has this guy stuck with church all these years. I have been asked this question more than once. My answer is that religion in general–and Christianity in particular–offers glimpses of a dimension of human existence that falls into the category of the spiritual and that this dimension is real and part of what it means to be human. I am not giving up on that, and being associated with a church, warts and all, has been for me a pathway to access the spiritual dimension of life and to be part of a loving and supportive community. And the Chrisitan message of unconditional love, the call to love your neighbor, to respond to those in need, and to try to make the world a kinder, fairer, and gentler place is enough to keep me going.
At least for now. Before it is my turn to say goodbye.