The Problem of Death

Years ago, I came up with a little line that still amuses me a bit:

“After considering all the evidence, I have concluded that I am immortal.”

That’s right, I’m immortal. You may think me a fool but let me first state my case:

For as long as I can remember, I have been alive. I see that people around me are dying, but that is them and not me. I have been alive, and I am alive, so I have no reason to believe that I will one day die. Statistically, I have a 100% life rate so far, and thus, I have been immortal. I see no reason to assume that will change.

While I am just joking about this, it does seem like we can easily slip into a mindset similar to this; a mindset where we live in denial of death.

I think the Stoics got it right when they claimed that it is important for a person to ponder his death.

Today, I want to discuss three questions regarding death:

1. Why is it so hard to contemplate one’s mortality?

2. How do we currently deal with the challenges presented by death?

3. Why should a person contemplate his death?

Let’s get right into it…

Why is it so hard to contemplate one’s mortality?

We live in a Western society that has removed death from everyday life. Animal death now belongs in slaughterhouses, human death in hospitals. And so, we have been estranged from the personal experience that recognizes that a life must come to an end.

As far as I can think, there is only one area in life in which death has become more widely known, discussed, and common, and it is perhaps one of the cruelest things ever accepted by our society: the killing of unborn babies. Ironically, those who are pro-choice would likely disagree with me. For them, this topic is not one of death at all. Beyond abortion, however, death has nearly been entirely removed from conversation.

Having taken death out of homes, farmhouses, and towns certainly makes it harder to contemplate. It is as if we have been stripped of our reminders. And if a topic is uncomfortable to think about, we need numerous reminders to get our thoughts flowing in that direction.

Furthermore, it is challenging to contemplate one’s death because the topic itself is heavy. We don’t like losing things. If a flood were to tear through our town and rip away all our belongings, we would be devastated. Even if a thief were to steal only a few of our valuables, we would still be upset. Perhaps we refuse to acknowledge death because it is the biggest thief. It rips EVERYTHING of this earth from us.

Perhaps dying is a bit comparable to moving to another town while not being allowed to pack anything: not your house, not your teddy bear, not even the shirt on your back. All the material possessions you bought, earned, and were given – everything you've accumulated – are no longer yours. Everything you worked for is no longer yours. You leave behind every friend you’ve ever had and every family member you’ve ever loved.

All you’ve ever known is your world through your eyes and a life in your mind and your body. Death strips you of all this and thrusts you into the unknown.

That is HARD. There is no way to make it easy.

Perhaps even more difficult than being stripped of what is ours is losing what we never had. Our future exists in our minds. Many of us expect our lives to go a certain way. We dream of having a certain job, getting married, raising a family, going on vacation, and becoming grandparents. We paint pictures in our minds of what our lives will look like one day. To contemplate our death is to realize that those paintings might go up in flames before we even get the chance to live them.

How do we currently deal with these challenges presented by death?

It seems that the most common solution is to simply not deal with them. We prefer to believe ourselves immortal, at least subconsciously. But reality does not bow to the comfort of lies. And refusing to ponder or talk about death does not add even a single day to one’s life.

Sometimes, on the occasion that someone we know passes away, we say they will live on in our memories. But the only parts that truly live on are the ones we liked. We kill the memories containing the things we despise about them; we speak of them with such reverence that they could be ordained as saints. Perhaps we do this because we know that we, too, have done wrong and hope that our sins will die with us.

Finally, when faced with the death of a loved one, it seems even those who do not believe in God begin uttering religious phrases. It is as if, even in the absence of faith, the only comfort can be found in at least pretending there is a deity. Perhaps death without God and the nothingness that awaits is too unbearable to imagine. Or perhaps religious traditions are so ingrained in our society that one simply cannot go against them.

And so, at funerals, everyone becomes religious for a day as the body is buried in a church graveyard. Then everyone abandons God at the gates as they leave and go their separate ways. In the end, these rituals become just another way in which societies cling to religious traditions that neither reflect the original biblical teachings nor correspond with their current beliefs. It seems that these rituals are little more than the skeletal remains of a faith our forefathers shared. And wishing not to stray from our origins, we dig up these bones whenever someone dies.

Finally, why should a person contemplate his death?

Even though it is hard and even though we don’t want to, each of us must contemplate our death. We have become strongly accustomed to the idea that we are the masters of our fate. Death is, however, the last reminder we receive that tells us we cannot save ourselves. It is inescapable. One can live a life in denial of reality, one can try to escape consequences, and create a world that bends to their ideals, but death cannot be cheated. It is real and it awaits us all.

Contemplating death lends a certain urgency to life.

Our days are limited, and so time becomes a valuable resource.

Our words are counted, and so each one must be spoken with care.

Our movements will one day cease, and so each action must bear importance.

Thus, death lends an urgency to life.

I have spent a fair amount of time pondering my death, so to finish off today’s contemplation, I would like to share five things I have learned from this pondering and how they have changed my approach to everyday life:

1) Contemplating my death has helped me recognize just how fragile life truly is. It does not take much to end it – a glance at my cell phone while driving is enough.

I see this fragility not only in myself but also in those around me. I now see how every moment I spend with a loved one is a privilege that I do not wish to take for granted.

2) We like to place flowers at the graves of those we miss. The dead do not need flowers; the living do. It is the living who need to know that they are loved.

3) All too often, we are quick to judge and treat those around us harshly. It is not until someone dies that our words hold them in high regard. Contemplating death has helped me treat people with more patience and kindness.

4) Contemplating death has made me quicker to forgive and unwilling to hold grudges. How many graves are watered by the tears of those who lost a loved one while quarrel still burdened their relationship? Death can surprise us at any moment. I do not want to delay forgiveness.

5) Contemplating death has helped me avoid getting caught up in the trivialities of life. Instead, it has allowed me to recognize life’s singularity. I have been gifted with one earthly life. To live it carelessly would be foolish and disrespectful toward myself and toward God.

I believe the discussion of death is very important (as evidenced by the length of this writing). If we avoid it, death has the potential to be a source of fear, regret, and worry. If we spend time pondering it and recognizing its reality, death can urge us to live purposefully and intentionally.

I urge you to contemplate your death.

'Far Shores' - in Greek mythology, Charon escorts the dead to the underworld