Living in Dangerous Times: COVID-19 and Our Mortality

            Every few years, Canadians collectively raise our eyebrows and notice that something quite out of the ordinary is happening, and . . . it might not be good. Do you remember, for example, the Y2K scare? The stock market crash of 2008 and 2009? Or SARS?

            When the Y2K scare happened, Irene and I, as well as our friends Nick and Nandy and our kids, loaded a large picnic cooler with mementoes of our lives—tapes and a tape player, articles we had written for journals, pictures, newspapers, awards and even a coin collection—we loaded it all into the cooler, wrapped the cooler up in multiple layers of plastic, and on New Year’s Eve, before a roaring bonfire, we buried it, at midnight. We left maps for our grandkids to find it back and open it in the year 2050. It was our way of thumbing our noses at Y2K.

            And yet, given our raised eyebrows, we also socked away several jugs of water and a few weeks’ worth of canned food, rice and beans at home. You can’t be too careful.

            When the stock market crash happened, in 2008, we again did as all the experts suggested. Nothing, this time. We didn’t panic. We didn’t buy gold or sell our stock portfolio. You can’t be too careful.

            And now we are all collectively raising our eyebrows again, this time on account of the COVID-19 virus. We don’t know how serious this epidemic will be, compared to, say, the 2003 SARS outbreak. It spreads more easily but fortunately the COVID-19 virus is less dangerous than SARS, if you catch it. The vast majority of people who catch COVID-19 will be fine.

            So, we are now washing our hands more often and bumping elbows in church and wondering about whether or not we should travel. Irene and I have cancelled a vacation to Baja, Mexico. We were supposed to fly out March 18. But you can’t be too careful. We’ll have a staycation, instead. Our dog, Jex, will thank us.

            Still, if we’re honest, our eyebrows are raised and it is all a bit unsettling. What can I say? I’m not a doctor. I see guidelines for washing-hands everywhere. We ought to be religious about following them!

            The elephant in the room when it comes to COVID-19, of course, the thing we’ve all thought about more than a few times, even if only briefly, is death. I read a nice little story about death this week. It goes like this:

            Once some tourists from Canada were visiting Poland. They had heard about the famous Polish rabbi Hafez Hayyim and managed to receive an invitation to visit him in his home.

            When the tourists arrived, they were surprised to see that the rabbi’s home was only one simple room filled with books. His only furniture was a table and a bench.

            “Rabbi, where is your furniture?” they asked.

            “Where is yours?” replied the rabbi.

            “But we are only visitors here,” answered the tourists.

            “So am I,” said the rabbi.

            When it comes to life—and death—we are all tourists. That is why as a minister in a United Church I have made a point about preaching sermons about death regularly over the years. But preaching about death is challenging for me.

            In part, it is challenging because the members of the church I serve hold to a variety of views about what happens when we die. For example, some of my parishioners have beautiful traditional beliefs. They hope that when they die they will go to heaven. They are with the Apostle Paul when he writes, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us,” And, “We wait for the redemption of our bodies,” he adds, in case we were not sure what he was talking about.

            But other members of my congregation are much less certain about all that life-after-death stuff, or maybe don’t even believe in God at all, or believe in some very different kind of God, as “post-theists.” These members of my congregation take what Paul says about life after death with a large grain of salt. They are more with the Psalmist who says, “In death there is no remembrance of Yahweh; in Sheol, [the afterlife], who can give you praise?” These parishioners believe that death is simply the end of the road. And there are many, many positions in between.

            What do I think? Well, I am okay with the uncertainty.

            Many Christians, and for that matter, many Hindus and Buddhists and Muslims and Pagans have come up with 101 detailed explanations for what happens when we die. In Christianity, for example, we talk of intermediate states, and resurrection and judgments, of New Earths coming down out of heaven and meeting Jesus in the sky. Who knows? Maybe one group of Christians or Pagans or Hindus actually got the post-life map exactly right. 

            But what is more interesting and alluring to me than the details different religions differ on is the near universal sense that most humans have always had that there is more to this life than just this life. That seems important to me—and mildly hopeful. Whatever the ultimate truth about death is, I like the title of Julian Barnes’ beautiful book, nothing to be frightened of.

            But when people try to put me on the spot about life after death, I answer, “I hope so. When I die, I hope that I will awake to a grand adventure. I really like that idea. But, if not, when I die, I will get my best night’s sleep ever.” 

            What strikes me as more important than “I’m not sure,” however, is that following Jesus is for the living and not the dead. Remember that story I told you a few minutes ago, about being tourists? The rabbi’s name was Hafez Hayyim, which means, “responsible caretaker of life.” In the spirit of that insight I offer two pieces of advice for anyone who has thought of death since the COVID-19 epidemic began.

            First, and most responsible of all, make sure your affairs are always in order enough so that in case you do die those who survive you know what to do next. As a minister I have too often seen family grief compounded when the persons who died refused to plan for that eventuality. Most importantly, have a will and an advanced care plan or directive. Married or not, make sure that your bank accounts and credit cards and mortgages and insurance are all in order. Leave a file behind, where it can be easily located, with your will and on your computer—a file entitled, “In case of death.” Fill that file with the practical information people will need to tie up your affairs in a gracious manner that does credit to you. 

            Doing these sort of things isn’t merely responsible; it is also spiritual, because doing them is kind and loving.

            But there is one more, more inspirational piece of advice I also have for those of us, who as Bruce Cockburn once sang, live in dangerous times.

            It is this. No matter what your age or risk category, though perhaps especially if you are elderly, remember: now is always the right time to do wonderful and beautiful things with your life. We are called to be responsible stewards of our lives; but not merely responsible. If we are tourists, it is because we wish to take delight in the journey and with our companions, just as Jesus did with his disciples. So, now is the right time to do wonderful and beautiful things with your life! Now is the time to say that you are sorry. To give a gift to someone who is beloved or to donate to a cause that matters to you. Now is always the time to embrace a child or grandchild or an elderly parent and to be truly present to them, even if it takes time and energy. The apostle John writes, "My children, our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love, which shows itself in action." 

         In the end, before the end, be responsible and love no matter what what the flu season does or does not bring.

Life and Death Spiritual Matters

I've been doing a lot of funerals at my church lately. Watching the families cope with death, visiting with parishioners on their death beds, and thinking about what this all means, I came up with the following list. It isn't exhaustive, but it is stuff I wish that all my parishioners considered, at least.

• To celebrate a life-well lived at a funeral is fine; but this celebration must never be at the cost of giving ample opportunity for those who mourn, to do so. After all, spiritually, if death is not “the” enemy, it usually isn’t a friend either. Death often robs us of people we loved. Their absence must be overcome. Their love, even in their dying days, can be life affirming and precious. We will miss it. For such reasons, even in those cases where someone dies after much suffering, so that we say, “we’re glad he or she is at peace,” we ought to remember that this death may well have left a large hole in the lives of loved ones. Mourning is appropriate.

• Another and more difficult reason we sometimes mourn the passing of others is that they hurt us deeply. Some people, when they die, stop being difficult and become difficult memories instead. We may have unfinished business with them. We may even wish that we had been kinder or more understanding or more forgiving. The mourning at funerals is not all about missing the one who has died; it is often more about wondering what to do about our wounds. Talk to a wise friend, or a pastor, or a counselor. Get those difficult emotions to a place where you can talk about them, so that they don’t hijack you.

• Every death of a friend or relative—besides being an occasion to remember with thanksgiving and mourn the absence, ought also be an occasion for us to ponder our own impending deaths and the meaning of our lives. It is never too late to rededicate ourselves to old loves or goals, or to make a mid- or even late-course change. Don’t avoid this sort of self-examination if you want to finally come to your own death satisfied that you ran a good race.

• Probably the most common initial response to death is denial. Denial has many forms. We use euphemisms such as “passing” and “no longer with us.” Denial makes itself known in our stubborn refusal to prepare for death by making wills, taking out life insurance, or writing living wills. Among Christians, it sometimes manifests itself in putting more emphasis on praying for a miracle than on preparing for what must come. For the one dying, denial may take the form of refusing to grapple with the truth about poor health, personal habits, or telling friends that death is on the way. In each and every form, denial robs us of our ability to finish well, to care properly for our loved ones, and to deal with our own hopes and fears. Denial robs you of fully living the life you have left. Denial robs us of the support we could receive from friends, fellow church members, and family. Don’t deny death. Instead, even if you cannot make it a friend, make it an acquaintance.

• If you are willing to make death an acquaintance, then by all means explore the spirituality of death. What happens when we die? Is there eternal life? On what basis? Is there punishment for those who do evil? Are humans both body and soul? There are all sorts of books on these topics that bear witness to thousands of years of human thinking about these issues. We have not reached a consensus, even, as to what the answers are. But one of the mysteries of human thought and wisdom is that nearly all religions offer hope for something more, something glorious even, beyond the grave.

• Forgive others and seek forgiveness. This is hard. All of us live with strained relations and with long running feuds. We have been hurt and hurt others. Hopefully, long before death, you will try to set these things right, asking forgiveness where appropriate and offering it freely as well. Doing so is called love, and it is the Christian way.

• Along the same lines, since we rarely know when we will die, one of the most profoundly beautiful ways you can prepare for the unexpected death is to prepare letters of blessing to be left with your will. These letters will be for your children and spouse—perhaps others. And in the letter you will thank those people for their place in your life, and give them your blessing and best wishes for the future. Especially when death is unexpected, such letters can be a powerful encouragement for those still living.

• The funeral is not just for those who are left alive. It is also a last opportunity for the person who has died to make a statement. You can do so by planning the funeral ahead of time. What scripture would you like read? Who would you like to speak at the funeral? What core message would you like to have the audience hear from the pastor? At a minimum, discuss this with your loved ones and write something up that you can leave with them and a pastor to help set the tone of the funeral.

• Consider a child—an heir—named charity. And it is natural for all people, rich or poor, to want to leave a gift to family and friends when we die. Do not forget, however, the many good causes that you either did, or wish, you had supported when you were alive. When you write your will, consider adding a child called “Charity” to the beneficiaries, and leave her a share. I hardly need to add that one of the charities I sincerely hope that you will consider supporting, even in death, is this church.

• Teach children about death, and what we believe about death. There are many excellent children’s books about death. I have always loved Nana Upstairs & Nana Downstairs, as well as Now One Foot, Now the Other, both by Tomie dePaola.

• Along with teaching children about death, take them to the hospital, pray with them, and take them to the funeral. Late life denial of death is often rooted in early-life silence about death. Death has terrible power to disrupt and hurt our lives, but this power is only magnified if it becomes, for children, a topic whispered about, avoided, and never put into context.

• Prepare an Advance Healthcare Directive, or as it is sometimes known, a “living will.” This is an act of kindness and generosity to the living. Make sure your spouse and/or trustees know about it and that you have discussed your wishes with them. Doing so can save your family from endless disagreement and conflict and can give you a measure of control over even the most difficult part of the road of life—the last mile. Making such a directive is another great antidote for denial, as well.

• If you have elderly parents who were spiritual, and loved church, do not let their age and infirmity get in the way of their participation in church. Talk to the pastor. Insist on ongoing pastoral and spiritual care. Find ways to bring them to church or church to them. Ask for communion, if they desire it; for visits and scripture reading and prayer.

In conclusion, I want to say two closely related, substantive things about dying. First, while I cannot say with certainty what occurred to Jesus after his burial, something so amazing happened that it inspired a bunch of illiterate fishermen and women to found a world religion. Nearly every world religion bears testimony to similar hope. Second, and building on this first thing, you can be sure that the God who is with us and in us and beyond us in this life will not abandon us in death. Death may be an enemy, but Jesus’ example suggests that it is one we can face and in some measure even triumph over. Death does not have the last word--though I'm interested in knowing what you might add to this post.

Denying Death and Some Kind of Ecstasy

            Facing death, we often slip into denial.

            Sometimes such denial is tragic. I remember a friend who had terminal lung disease. Over time the disease left him constantly out of breath. He was confined to his home, then to his living room chair, and finally to bed. No doctor offered any hope for healing.

            Remarkably, my friend refused to face his impending death. When I tried to talk about it, he claimed that he wasn’t worried because he was waiting for a miracle. When I brought up some issues related to his will, he said, “later." When I said he needed to check into a hospice, he claimed my lack of faith was going to be the death of him. A few friends dropped by to pray for his healing and anoint him.

            And then, one day, he died.

            Now, I don’t want to give the impression that my friend was an idiot. Death is the last enemy, says the Apostle Paul (1 Cor. 13:26). It is an especially difficult one to face in your forties. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross told us long ago that in such circumstances denial is a natural emotional response.

            Still, right to the end, my friend remained in denial about his impending death. And that was sad on a number of levels. His affairs were not in order. He didn’t say goodbye to all his friends and family. He wouldn’t go out in public because he didn’t want to be embarrassed by the paraphernalia of dying he had to drag along. For months, he isolated himself from the world.

            My friend was an extreme case. The truth, however, is that most of us also deny death, often in mundane and thoughtless ways. Euphemisms such as “passing” and “no longer with us,” are used to get around mentioning death. Many of us stubbornly refuse to make wills, take out life insurance, prepare Advance Health Care Directives, or name someone to have power of attorney. We don’t have conversations with loved ones about end-of-life health care or financial issues. We don’t take children to funerals for fear of upsetting them. And, denial of death sometimes means putting more emphasis on praying for a miracle than on praying for courage or comfort.

            I’ve also noticed that people have begun speaking of funerals as “celebrations of life.” Family members will sometimes say that, “You know, Joe wouldn’t want us to be sad. He wants us to be happy.”

            Of course, when an elderly person who has suffered finally dies, it is natural that we are relieved that the suffering is over. At the same time, even the death of elderly people robs us of their company, their wisdom, and often, their love. To celebrate a life-well-lived at a funeral is fine; but this celebration should not come at the cost of giving ample opportunity for those who mourn to weep.

            Of course, denial shields us from the inevitable. Denial means never having to think about the pain or circumstances that might accompany our own end. But denial does so in the manner of a narcotic that sends us on a trip to Never Never Land.

            Denial also robs us of our ability to finish well, to care properly for our loved ones, and to deal with our own hopes and fears. Denial robs us, in other words, of the ability to fully live the time we have left by leaving a good part of that time in shadows we are too afraid to explore.

            Finally, denial even robs us of solace, of what Canadian composer Bruce Cockburn, in his song, “Wondering Where the Lions Are” describes as, “thinking about eternity.” A time, hopes Cockburn, when perhaps even “some kind of ecstasy” will get ahold of us.

(Do you have an example of denying death? What do you think? Leave a response!)