If I was ever diagnosed with a terminal illness, I've often wondered, how I would I react? Would I be filled with fear and dread? Regret? Or would I suddenly be seeing life here on earth in technicolor?
I would hope, the day I received my death sentence, that it would be in many ways "the first day of the rest of my life." That it would not be viewed as "taking away" something, but infusing a great gift of grace into my life.
I feel like I have been spending the majority of my life in preparation for that moment, and yet it remains elusive, like a can continually kicked down the road. I could have another ten, twenty, fifty years left here on earth, which to be honest fills me with weariness. St. Bernard of Clairvaux said, "How consoling it is to see a just man die! His death is good, because it ends his miseries; it is better still, because he begins a new life."
Thomas a Kempis noted that it is even more dangerous to live long,
Alas! length of days doth not always better us, but often rather increaseth our sin.
O that we had spent but one day in this world thoroughly well!
Many there are who reckon years of conversion; and yet slender is the fruit of amendment.
If to die be accounted dreadful, to live long may perhaps prove more dangerous.
(Imitation of Christ, XXIII)
Like the early Christians awaiting the Parousia on the edge of their seat, as the weeks and months go on you eventually you start to doubt, perhaps, that Christ is going to be coming back in your lifetime. But when you were convinced he was, you lived each day on the cusp of Judgment as if it were your last.
Those who live with a constant surge of cortisol (stress hormone) throw their body and endocrine system out of whack. We weren't meant to live in that constant 'fight or flight' state continuously as we do in the modern age. What we are meant to do, however, is not presume upon a tomorrow, as scripture says (Ja 4:13-15). This is the "Beginner's Mind" approach to seeing the world anew, every morning--that your life is a gift, not something owed. That each breath you take is a privilege, not a right.
It can be transformative to live in the "Sacrament of the Present Moment," as Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade calls it. You take nothing for granted. Your only preoccupation, then, should be to live in a state of grace, accepting what comes from the hands of Providence (Mt 6:34), as if each day was your last on earth. We can enjoy the fruits of this Sacrament of the Present Moment as this story from the East illustrates from a somewhat different vantage point:
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!
The intimacy which takes place at the foot of Calvary during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and the union with which we achieve with the reception of Holy Communion, can also be easily taken for granted. We speak about "having to go to Mass" on Sundays rather than having the privilege of assisting. We do not recollect adequately the state of union during the reception of Holy Communion with more than a few moments of silence.
But what if this Mass you attend...what if it were the last Mass offered on earth?
How would it change your disposition? To what extent would your hunger for the Lord burn? What would you sacrifice to be there? Like intimacy in a marriage, which can sometimes become commonplace and taken for granted over time, we find we have lost that "first love" of the Bride that quickened our pulse and took away our breath initially.
If we were told, "you have one month to live," would the world become lit up with color? Would the strawberry taste sweeter? Would our Communions become mystical? Would we be filled with fear and despair, or hope and joy? Perhaps this is a good litmus to keep in mind when we evaluate where we are on the narrow way.
We take our lives, our loves, and our Lord for granted with the presumption that we are owed a certain number of years, or the Mass, or good health, or what have you. The Lord in his desire that we fulfil the First Commandment to love Him with all our heart, mind, strength, and soul will take from us the idols of presumption, because He is a jealous God (Ex 20:5; 34:14; Deut 4:24).
In his loving chastisement, He may take things from us. It may even be the Mass. For those He disciplines He loves (Heb 12:6). God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose (Rom 8:28). We have the chance to be born anew each day, to experience the Sacrament of the Present Moment, to view life through technicolor, to taste and see the goodness of the Lord (Ps 34:8). Let's not squander it. Assist at each Mass as if it were your last on earth!
I've thought a lot about this since Masses were suspended in 2020 and since the motu proprio. CS Lewis discusses this in the Screwtape Letters, suggesting that the reason why most of us have died young is because of the likelihood of sin growing with age.
ReplyDeleteAuthor Stefan Zweig writes about musical performances the aftermath of the First World War in Austria:
"There never was any certainty that the opera would last into the next week, what with the sinking value of money and the doubts about coal deliveries... Every singer, every musician did his best, his utmost, for each had in mind that perhaps it might be his last time in this beloved house. And we strained and listened as never before, because perhaps it was really the last time. That was the spirit in which we lived, thousands of us, multitudes, giving forth to the limit of our capacity in those weeks and months and years, on the brink of destruction. Never have I experienced in a people and in myself so powerful a surge of life as at that period when our very existence and survival were at stake."
I agree when the masses were suspended during Covid we did miss it terribly, while I think others just left and never came back because they found that it wasn't that important to them in the first place. I always figured it was some kind of test God allowed to remove the lukewarm.
DeleteHmm, it seems unfair that you could live a youth full of virtue and then become corrupted as an older person as sometimes happens and it's your ending character that decides your fate. If you had just done it the opposite way, gone from a scoundrel to a saint you are saved. Why not the whole life be judged like a balance sheet and if the good outweighs the bad, well, maybe you have hope. I guess it doesn't work that way! But I agree, the older you get the less excuses you have for sinning. You darn well better know better by then, right? I guess the only good thing is you can use those later years to teach your hard earned wisdom to the young. They need all the help they can get.
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