The Mystery of Death
He’s not coming back. He’s dead. I’ll never forget those words, and yet I remember how they did not make sense to me. I was three weeks from turning four years old, and my older brother would be six the day after that. And our dad wouldn’t be there. A truck accident just took his life. The death of my dad felt like the crucifixion of my childhood.
For years on top of years I would chase what could never be, until I awakened to what forever is and what forever will be. I could spend my life chasing after the why of death, as if there is a satisfying answer to be found, or I could offer the pain and suffering of death to till the field of my soul for new life. There was no answer that could be given and no amount of blame to be carried that could fix or alter the outcome that is death.
I have come to find great comfort in mystery, because mystery offers endless searching, which leads to purpose and depth of meaning.
All of this takes me to the cross and that ancient barbaric execution system, perfected by the Roman empire, known as crucifixion. No, I am not going to blather on about the abstract, the minutia of a bullet point theological discourse drowning in esoteric theories. We’ll leave that tucked into the ivory tower of academia for the intellectually elite to play with and write volumes of books on. I’d like to run out to the secret playground of life. Mystery and secrets are to be searched for and explored with the soul. So, let’s do less monkey bars for the mind and instead dig into a bottomless bucket of Legos for the soul. A favorite writer of mine, a Roman Catholic priest named Ronald Rolheiser, walks this out really well for us:
“In the gospels, Jesus tells us that there exists a certain secret, a hidden wisdom, which, should we grasp it, is the key to unraveling all the deep secrets of life. Conversely, should we miss it, we will never really understand life.”
Are you intrigued? I know, and this is found in the preface to his short in pages but thick with soul book on the passion of Jesus. You could probably read it in a couple hours… or you could get out a highlighter and journal and spend weeks inviting the words to do a detox of your heart. Ok, keep going Mr. Rolheiser: “However, for Jesus that secret is not some exotic, gnostic, or hidden code, accessible only to intellectual elites or certain religious cults. For Jesus, the hidden secret that holds the key to understanding everything is the cross: the wisdom of the cross and the brokenness of the one who died on the cross.”
He goes on to explain that this wisdom is not something we can grasp intellectually, rather it is far more about swimming in the pool of the existential. It’s awakening to the realization that our suffering mysteriously connects us with the suffering of Jesus. When suffering has done its work, the deep and dutiful work found only in death, the resisted erosion of your soul suddenly becomes the womb that gives birth to the truest you.
“At some deep level we sense that suffering is working to mature us, to make us grow up, to make us more compassionate, and is opening us up more to hear the voice of God and the voices of others.”
And that mystery has been at work in me, like a determined archaeologist attacking a mountainous Tel with a tiny toothbrush. It reveals the simple, yet too often missed, way of discovering the full life is through a thousand little deaths. The death of the small self, the one that wants to conquer the world rather than serve the world. The mountain of deaths that reveal a thinking that life is about me, rather than me being about life. The full life of generosity, joy, and grace, which all spring from a heart soaked in gratitude. It’s sharing in the suffering of Jesus rather than just singing songs about Jesus. The pain on the cross, as described in the Scriptures, was not physical but rather emotional. Yes, of course there was immense physical pain, but that is not what is offered us through the text. It’s the bleeding heart, the pouring out of an anguished soul that is the ink on the paper. Jesus absorbed all of the hate, anger, bitterness, jealousy, and betrayal. And he in turn gave… forgiveness… grace… mercy… and love.
This a range of love that is gentle enough for the sweet old lady who is your neighbor… and deep enough for the mean, vindictive person who acts as your enemy. Therein lies the mystery of death to life. It confounds me yet simultaneously summons me to explore it.
Pain has always been our teacher, and in this season, we are asked to be very astute students. The temptation is to recoil into self-preservation, which simply guarantees the perpetuation of the little life. We are being invited to a master’s class on love, joy and generosity, found in the mystery and the paradox that is death to life.
I have an extra pencil if you want to register for class.
