A Death that is Living

“For you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19).¹ The reality of this proverb often inflicts great strife upon the heart of the human person. It is a resounding certitude that strikes man to his core. Regardless of the situation, everyone experiences death at some point in their life. Whether it is foreseen or unexpected, peaceful or tragic, the inescapability of man’s fragility and finality remains a chilling truth. Why must man experience death? Can this death ultimately be a good for the human person? If it is a universal reality, how does one die well? Is it even in the realm of possibility? Such a quest ultimately leads man to contemplate truths about his very nature and essence. For to understand what it truly means to be a human, one must embrace the mysterious shroud of death that awaits him. Only in contemplating his end can man truly come to know the significance of his creation in the image and likeness of God.

Human death and dying reveals not only the wonder of the body and soul of the human person, but it ultimately instructs him on how to live well in accordance with the good. Indeed, the evil destruction and punishment of death offers man a glimpse into the eternity of sublime communion with the Divine. It brings to completion the salvific work of Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection. “For through the horror of death, man plunges ever anew into the vastness of being, in which [he] is simply overwhelmed with joy.”² The terror and finality of death is a punishment for humanity’s error; however, it offers an opportunity to embrace an interior state of humility, which ultimately sanctifies and prepares the soul for the Judgement of God. The whole of theological thanatology points toward something beyond the fear and misery of the mere natural. “For through Christ and in Christ, the riddles of sorrow and death grow meaningful, and the light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.”³

To many individuals, death is something rather peculiar, even something to be feared, avoided, and put off for as long as possible. To understand death, one must investigate the beings of the human person. Man’s being involves the marriage of body and soul. Josef Pieper articulates their intense bonding saying: “the soul is connected with the body not like a workman with his tool…rather it is ‘in’ him the way the stamped form unites with a blank of liquefied silver to make a coin—anima forma corporis.”⁴ That is, the body and soul is what gives the person his being and existence. It is for this reason that the unity of the body and soul are integral to the life of the human person. Removing one of these components results in the destruction of man. “It is not the body nor the soul which dies, but the man himself [since] both are from their origins amicable and dependent on one another. In death what is called man simply ceases to exist.”⁴ Why must man undergo this horrific process that inflicts great calamity upon the harmony of the person? For such a rupture is undoubtedly a catastrophic occasion. Such a question returns the investigation to man in his primordial infancy.

Prior to man’s disobedience, he existed in a state of preternatural holiness, that is, a life without the possibility of death. “Yet, man set himself against God and sought to attain his goal apart from God.”³ Through sin, he desired to change his destiny separately from God and departed (exitus) from the eternal rest and blessedness of the seventh day of creation. Benedict XVI quotes St. Ambrose saying: “death was not part of nature, it became part of nature. Human nature, because of sin…began to experience the burden of wretchedness in unremitting labor and unbearable sorrow. There had to be a limit to its evils; death had to restore what life had forfeited.”² In a way, the unnaturalness of death was necessary for man’s return (reditus) to rest in God’s act of creation. Death becomes retribution for the ultimate crime and tragedy of abandoning God. “Indeed, the unnatural punishment of death is something bad which is at the same time just; an evil and nevertheless a good; far less of an evil, in fact, than a good.”⁴ Death enables man to experience the greatest suffering one can endure: abandonment, discord, and loneliness of the soul with nothing to embrace nor animate. This is the horror of death, the great calamity of human misery. For it is in death that man receives what is due: cessation of his person. The soul then must go before the Divine Judge to give a reckoning of his desire for reditus or exitus from the state of eternal beatitude.

If death is ultimately a punishment, then is it possible to die well? While the very nature of death is unnatural and horrific, there is an intrinsic good embedded within its mystery. To articulate this, one must first delve into the nature of man’s gift of reason and intellect. For that which separates man from the beasts is his interiority. “For by his interior qualities, he outstrips the whole sum of mere things.”³ It is this unique ability of man that enables him to contemplate that which is true, good, and beautiful in Christ. Most importantly, is that this interiority offers human beings the ability to not only recognize the meritorious nature of suffering, but to partake in it. When humanity departed from blessedness and brought upon themselves the capital penalty of death, God did not forsake them. For God, in his unfathomable love and mercy, took on human flesh to atone for the failings of his children. “In his passion and crucifixion, Christ is given into the mystery of our sinfulness and abandonment of God and to make reparation for the human race by love offered to God from within that place of dereliction.”⁵ God’s response to the suffering and death of humanity is to enter into it. Through his Incarnation and death, Christ perfectly and innocently undertakes the same punishment that is due to humanity. It is through this redemptive mission that God manifests the concept of theosis. This is the Greek notion that God became man, embraced man’s sufferings through death, and glorified it so that man might become more like him. “By suffering for us, He not only provided us with an example for our imitation, He blazed a trail, and if we follow it, life and death are made holy and take on a new meaning.”³

To die well is to suffer and die as Christ did, that is, to adopt an interior life of humility that seeks first and foremost to love as Christ loves. This love produces an interior change within the person. For human death and suffering becomes the divine way to eternal blessedness. The reditus to the Father’s house occurs through uniting one’s death and destruction to the sufferings of Christ crucified, as St Paul says: “in my flesh, I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” (Colossians 1:24).¹ The sincere gift of the self to the Creator becomes the pathway to authentic Christian maturity. “The redemptive love of Christ, therefore, always remains open to the love expressed in human suffering for all ages, since the dawn of human creation to the end of times.”⁶ In the salvation of Christ, man receives the opportunity to embrace the wretchedness of death in a new light. For the shadow of death becomes a living joy, an anticipation of suffering alongside the crucified Christ — becoming a sharer in the salvation of creation.

As one approaches his death, he ought to consider the strenuous nature of this pilgrimage. Most importantly, he must strive to live a life in accordance with interior humility of the heart. This humility should mirror Leo Tolstoy’s character Gerasim, who selflessly undertook the most irksome and repulsive tasks in caring for the sickly Ivan Ilyich. “For it was only Gerasim’s strength and vitality that gave him comfort in those trying moments of life before death.”⁷ For it is when one humbles himself that he is better able to recognize the face of Christ in the most vulnerable. The truly humble man embraces charity even in his most fragile state. Indeed, he who stoops low enough to unite himself to the lowliness of Christ understands what it means to offer up his life to the One who offered his life for all. In addition, one preparing for the Last Things ought to remain close to the Church and her sacraments. In particular, they ought to receive Extreme Unction. “The principal effect of this sacrament worthily received is interior healing from the detrimental effects of sin.”⁸ God imparts an abundance of grace upon the recipient for the forgiveness of sins and the fortitude to make his final charge toward the seventh day of eternity.

The pangs of the horrific separation of the soul from the body through death will inevitably befall all. Yet, through God’s salvific mission, this punishment became transformed into an opportunity for man to emulate Christ, that is, to become more like Him. Indeed, this is what it truly means to die well: to humbly offer the sacrifice of one’s own person completely and wholly back to the Father. For through this, one discovers a death that radiates with a living, insatiable joy. “I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice and no one will take your joy from you” (John 16:22).¹ Especially during this most holy season of Lent, let us pray that, Mary, the Mother of the Child Jesus, who so perfectly proclaimed her fiat, may guide and protect us in this life, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.