Funerals have never been my thing. For one, I just don't know what to say or feel. I look around and see so many tears, and then I feel guilty for not experiencing the same thing. My emotions shut off and I watch. I pay attention to the emotions of everyone else.
My grandfather passed away several years ago, and the funeral was beautiful. There were bagpipes bellowing out the sounds of Amazing Grace. There were stories of how he stepped into my grandmother's, dad's, aunt's, and uncles' lives and became the husband and father that they never had.
One of the greatest memories I have of my grandpa was his massive collection of baseball cards. Inside one of his closets, he had shelves full. As a collector myself, I would step into his closet and get drawn into his collection. I would spend hours scanning through them, in awe of the good condition they were in. He was the person who first introduced me to collecting.
When he died, everyone knew it was coming. He had suffered through cancer for several years, and was getting weaker and weaker. He got skinnier and skinnier.
My grandpa represented life, and his death was a reminder of that life. His death was the last gift he had to give to us - leaving me with a lasting impression of the awe I felt when I would browse in his closet four hours. He left my family with the lasting impression of what it looks like to step into the darkness of family dysfunction and to bring light and love. Although he wasn't blood related to my dad and his siblings, he was father. His death was his farewell gift to the family, as if the silent understanding around the casket was, That's who I want to be like. Thanks dad.
My grandfather believed in life. Not just the humdrum monotony of the nine to five, routine, get by so I can retire kind of life. He believed in a life that was filled with meaning. He believed there was more to life than just getting by and moving from one thing to another.
The interesting thing about life and death is, they bump up against one another. Life can't happen without death, and death can't happen without life.
There was a guy named Lazarus. He was very good friends with a man named Jesus. Lazarus died. Jesus waited four days to show up. Jesus told his friends, the disciples, that Lazarus was sleeping. Martha was Lazarus's sister. She believed that if Jesus had been there, her brother wouldn't have died. Jesus told her, whoever believes in me - even though they die - will live.
In order for a garden to be fruitful, there has to be a source of soil, water, sunlight, and energy. Soil is composed of the decomposition of other plants, among other things. The nutrients and minerals from dead plants brings life to a new garden. We know that a process called photosynthesis happens in the life cycle of plants, but we can't see the energy processes that are happening. We can touch the water, get our hands dirty in the soil, feel the sun's rays beating down on us, but photosynthesis - now that's a mystery. Yet, we attribute this intangible process to the creation of life.
Death requires life, and life requires death.
If we were to step out onto the forest floor and take a sample of the topsoil, we would find death. Skeletal remains, scavenging bacteria, dead leaves, feces. If we were to only look at that sample and not look around, we would think that the world which we were looking at - the small sample - was ultimately a depressing world.
Under the microscope, we would see something completely different. Movement. Energy. Life.
Life has to be more than the presence of breath. It has to be. It only takes a microscope to see that the most "lifeless" objects in our daily existence contain a world of movement and adventure that we just can't see with the naked eye. When we look deeper, we find vitality, energy, and process.
One of my latest "conspiracy theories" is that the Bible I read and the theological systems around me are all just propaganda trying to get me to believe in ideas that were created by man. I really don't know if Jesus was real. I don't know. I believe in Him and I believe in what he says, but I don't know if he was a real person. Sorry, but I can't prove it. However, take away the Bible, theological systems, and everything we have available to us presently, and what are we left with? Does that shake our belief systems? Does that scare us?
This guy Jesus talks about life a whole lot. I find it interesting that so far in the book of John, he hasn't mentioned anything about a place called heaven or hell. He's talked about life - real life and eternal life. He keeps pounding this idea into heads of the people around him. Believe in me and you will find real and eternal life - right here and right now. Your physical body will die, but you will live.
To Jesus, life and death compliment each other. One can't happen without the other. Whether its a garden growing in the backyard, or my grandfather passing away, life and death both play a part in real and eternal life. When plants decompose, they became the life source of the plants around them. When people die, their energy goes back into the earth, creating life as well.
Other deaths happen in our lives as well - spiritual and emotional. Do we see these as compliments of life too? Do we understand them like we do physical death?
Life is a gift. Death is a gift. The ongoing cycle and patterns involving these two point us to the reality that we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. We are part of something that could possibly have everything to do with an infinite process.
Today's Action: In what ways have we experienced death, physically, emotionally, and spiritually? In what ways have we experienced life after these deaths?
I was hoping I could explain a bit better what I meant yesterday evening about faith in the context of a "better place". What I hear in Jon's posts are "life", "freedom", "sight", "God loves us just as we are" etc. I've heard an undercurrent of thirst, unrest and maybe dissatisfaction too.
ReplyDeleteAlso, from the stories I've gathered from Kim, I might be able to gather up a list like, not as awesome, but like Hebrews 11 for the "da funk" peoples. Of course Kim sees the rosier side of things so I don't have any bad stories yet - consider yourselves lucky... and I don't look forward to any dirt but it's inevitable - like the fact that we now know that I was a truth dividing slayer of the Word wielding the two edged sword of faith, proudly and mightily fending the homeless, the fatherless and the widow from the misguided help of Satan's pack of do-gooding unbelievers - the sinning humanist deceived Wordless pig dogs. Thanks, Kim, Miss Rosy, for bringing up the repressed memories! That is not what I was getting at... lol
What I have heard/seen from you guys parallels Hebrews 11 - stories of faith that there is a better place and actions to suit that - where the "economy" is a good one - where the better place is truly a better place - where the well-intentioned "changing the world" isn't going to screw it all up but actually make it better for all of us. It's encouraging. I want you guys to know that because I think you might not see it.
The best way I can describe my unrest is, imagine that you found a cure for depression. This cure was supposedly in the form of a pill. The doctor said to take it three times a day, and that depression would never strike again.
ReplyDeleteSo, you keep taking this pill and it's really working!! No depressing thoughts, no isolation, no hopeless feelings upon waking up in the morning. You go about each day, overwhelmed by the absence of depression. Life is now an opportunity to be grasped, and not a veil of tears. There's only one rule though. Don't stop taking the pill. You read this every morning, afternoon, and evening as you take one pill out of the bottle. Pretty soon, you forget what depression even was. Life is so good and so joyous that the thought of depression is a distant memory and holds no power over the here and now.
Imagine that in this period time in which the depression has become a distant memory, a stranger comes up to you and tells you about how he got rid of his depression. He says that his couldn't be cured with a pill, but instead by destroying his self-centeredness. He says that there was nothing or no one who could cure his "disease," and that a stranger had come to him and told him what he's telling you now.
The stranger goes on to say how every day, every moment, he has to pay attention to what he's thinking, doing, and saying. He has to watch for resentment, selfishness, dishonesty, and fear, because when they crop up and are left alone, they will eventually lead on to full blown depression. He says there's only one rule: He has to get rid of himself.
The man taking the pill listens but decides that he's found the cure. All he has to do is take the pill three times a day and everything will be okay. As long as he exists in the state of being that he's in when he takes the pill, everything is okay.
For the stranger talking about how he keeps depression away, there is no pill so there is no such thing as a plateau state of existence. He knows he has two solutions, and one of them leads to the miserable, depressed life. The other solution leads to a life that guarantees one thing: freedom from depression.
The moral of the story is this: Some people find themselves okay and chill with having something outside themselves reach in and fix the problem. They just have to take the pill three times a day. They find freedom in that, and are okay with staying like that. All fine and well.
Others find themselves not okay and chill with having something they can't outside of themselves reaching in and fixing the problem. For some reason or another, the right belief or right thinking didn't fix the problem. The pill wasn't sufficient. They had to find a way to believe and put that belief into action in order to be free from depression.
I am part of the latter group of people. My beliefs aren't enough for me to live a life free from anything (including depression, alcoholism, drugs, porn, stealing, etc.) I have to attempt to put those beliefs into action, or, in other words, work with a higher power than myself in finding freedom. Freedom is infinitely available in many different ways, so I am constantly on the lookout for new ways to increase the freedom I have in this life. My unrest is this inner question going on at all times, "How much freedom do you want Jon? Are you good? Have you graduated? Are you fixed yet?"
In a nutshell, I have to be grateful for where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. If I stop paying attention to where I'm going, the "depression" will soon creep back up and take back over. It's "cunning and baffling" the way that the "old way of life" will put on new masks and woo me over. More freedom is what I'm after. How bout you?