Aging and death: Is there more?
It is a function of my stage of life. It began when as I child: I saw a cow die while giving birth. It continues throughout my life with the loss of treasured cats and dogs, grandparents, friends.
Right now, I experience it as disease. Three close friends are fighting cancer. You and I know this phenomenon as aging and ultimately, death. What hope do we have?
Theologian Ladislaus Boros asserts death gives humans the opportunity of posing their first completely personal act. Moving against the tide of outer dissolution is the counter current of becoming more aligned with what we were meant to be. What emerges as our bodies wither is what we recognize as the wisdom of age. Our elders take their years of joy and sorrow, struggle and victory, impatience and love, learn from them, and condense all the energy of their life into what can be called their “essential being.” Its strength is in the spirit side characterized by wisdom, mercy, reconciliation with self and others.
I noticed this with my mother who often fretted about her children: what we did and didn’t do right or pleasing. As she approached 75 she let things that used to send her into orbit simply pass by. She had a calmness, an ability to not respond, but simply let be what will be.
This time is also one of exploring the deep mysteries of life: Is there a Creator? Are we connected? How? Does it matter? Here I find an analogy helpful. Remember Moses and the burning bush story, the bush that burned but was not consumed? God is that spark of aliveness, generating power, within the bush and us. As we and all creation age the contained energy of the material yields to the pure energy of the spiritual, the ongoing creative force. We and the bush are never consumed or destroyed. We just change form from bush to smoke, body to spirit. Curiosity at such a mystery can turn our focus from making it through life (the material), to desiring unity with all that is (the spiritual), mirroring the Creator or first spark.
As the wonder of a rainbow brings together the land and sky, we wonder about continuity between this world and the next. Will I have a body? What will it be like? The resurrection appearances of Jesus show us this process. His resurrection body still eats and drinks. But he walks through walls, no longer limited by physical boundaries. When questioned, Jesus calls them to focus on the kingdom of God, which he earlier defined as within them. It is a call to attend to the spiritual, to develop their inner person to be like Jesus, a soul fully alive and consciously engaged. A children’s chorus delightfully captures this for me: “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine!”
As I have walked with people letting go of solidarity of body and wading into the deeper currents of resurrection life as spirit, I feel enlivened by their energy and confidence that there is more. Whatever that more is, they feel welcomed. It is almost as if they smell the scent of God’s burning aliveness and move toward it.
Oh yes. There are those who do not go gently into that last goodnight. I rest in the belief they, too, go to a God of pure love, a God of consuming passion that will not let them go and will embrace them in a way which I am sometimes unable to do.
What hope do we have? Paul assures the Corinthian church and us of this great mystery: We will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. Physical body will decrease; the spiritual body or energy will increase as we become all God intends us to be. Think pure fruit of the Holy Spirit. We become all love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
I look forward to walking through walls like the resurrected Jesus. More seriously, I hope to follow the scent of God’s aliveness. Won’t you join me in moving toward the mysteries of life that will be revealed?