DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME

DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME

 

This is not a gloomy mindfulness. End of life is on my mind more frequently than it ever was in previous decades. The proximity of death is easily apparent to me, particularly because of my age.  I am 78 years old. Furthermore, the passing of close friends and acquaintances who are my contemporaries occurs with increased frequency. Two days ago another friend’s life on planet earth ended. She was four years older than me.  

I am no stranger to dying and death. At the age of 27 I began my work as a church pastor. For forty years one of my responsibilities was spending time with dying parishioners and residents of the community. I sat with families as their loved one weakened and I comforted them when the loved one died. Many who died were close personal friends. I had my own load of grief to manage. I officiated funerals within the churches that I pastored.  I lost count of how many hundreds of funerals that is. Death is not a stranger to me.

My grandparents and parents and most uncles and aunts and some cousins have died. We have been people of faith, not just any faith, but Christian faith. Early in my life and then through concentrated linguistic and theological investigation I confirmed for my own satisfaction that my faith rests on promise based on evidence. So I am content to trust that God was telling me the truth when he inspired writers to record that eternal life awaits those who trust that Jesus was divine and resided on earth for the purpose of atoning for human sin. I believe that Jesus’ own dying words to a dying convict promising him life in paradise was true, and is true still. What this comes down to is assurance and hope and peace. 

Yes, I have bought the whole meal deal. It’s a worldview that includes a future beyond life here. Not for one moment do I believe that it is easier or more intelligent to accept that life began spontaneously in some cell somewhere or through some cataclysmic celestial explosion. I rest my trust in a transcendent pre-existing God who created this remarkable universe and chose to fashion humanity in his image, and who has prepared something for us after this. I am unafraid and I am content.   

YOU CAN MAKE F.R.I.E.N.D.S. ANYWHERE

A NEW LEARNING
She is always smiling a pleasant smile. I always wondered why all the male curmudgeons that preceded her at this corner bothered reporting for work. They never talked to the children. They never smiled. They barely responded to my good morning greeting.

She is a crossing guard at our local Martha Currie elementary school. She is in her mid forties and she wears the customary guard coat, hat and big red cross over her body and she carries a Stop sign. Each day when I do my walk/run, still more walk than run at this point, she greets me. We exchange a courteous salutation or weather comment as I pass by her on her corner.

Today she asked, “Did you enjoy you holiday?”
Not always certain about my own memory I was sure this time that I hadn’t ever conversed with her about a vacation so I asked, “Did I tell you I was going on a holiday?”
“Maybe I confused you with someone who looks like you,” she answered as we stood momentarily together.
“You look like your brother Mike,” she told me.
Not convinced that this was true, I said, “No!”
She asked, almost stated, “You don’t have a brother Mike?”
“No, I don’t” and I was in a half turn to continue on my homeward saunter.
“But I am going on a trip soon,” I hinted and she followed up with “Where are going?”
“France” I boastfully said.
“Do you speak French?” she wondered.
“A little” I lied to her and she wished me a good trip.

And now I am thinking that if you want friends and care to be friendly it’s so easy. All one needs is a cache of good lines like the one she used with me. You can always generate a short conversation.

I might see a total stranger and ask, “Did you enjoy your dinner at Moxie’s last Thursday?”
To which I might receive, “No, I have never been to Moxie’s. You have mistaken me for someone else.”
To which I can say, “Oh, you and your sister Amanda look so much alike.”
To which I might get, “My sister’s name is Kelly.”
To which I could answer, “That’s right, I often get those two names mixed up.”
And then I can add, “You should try Moxie’s. You will enjoy the ambiance and the food is good. Have a nice day.”

To have friends, you must show yourself friendly.

Friends official site

CHEERS ! Where everybody knows your name

A NEW LEARNING
There are other examples of community that I might choose but one of the most memorable examples of value of social interaction was the bar made famous by television’s long running ‘Cheers.’ The theme song of Cheers, was a compelling hit, with welcome lyrics, sentiments with which everyone can identify.

“Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.”

(Tap the lyrics and listen)
Unless one is suffering from one of many disorders or syndromes or illnesses we generally like to be with people who know us by first name and are happy to see us. It feels good to be among others who understand what we are living with. We enjoy people who are interesting and interested in us.

When I retired from a very active career and life which involved daily contact with people I surprised myself with how little I needed to be with people. Being alone was just fine with me. It drove my wife crazy that I didn’t show interest in going out, doing things with others. It gradually changed and is changing. Now I miss going to the office and to boarding the plane to head to another function with hundreds of people. So, now I am relishing the ordinary interfaces I am privileged to have with people, the serendipities as well as the planned coffee shop meetings. These are people whose names I know and who know my name, and they are as pleased to see me as I am to recognize them, and we share a little of life for a little while. For those minutes accumulated over the week I am made richer and wiser and useful and encouraged. I guess I don’t need Cheers. I simply need to cheer up and be cheered by my friends and acquaintances.

"The only way to have a friend is to be one." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lessons from 'The Kite Runner' about being a friend

A NEW LEARNING
I have spent a working lifetime helping people, mentoring and teaching, encouraging and admonishing. I have grown immeasurably as a person during all these years. So much of that character development was affected because I was in the public eye, in a position of trust and example. I was as reflective and meditative as I had time to be. I now have more discretionary time to be reflective about who I am, how I became this, where I can improve and where it’s okay to be me. I wish God was finished with me but the changes keep coming. The other day the lesson was about friendship.

I remembered that “The Kite Runner’ received Oscar mention last year, so when I saw the DVD at the corner store I rented it, $2.99. This powerfully engaging story was Khaled Hosseini’s debut novel and best seller. Emotive themes about bravery, weakness, fathers and sons, friendship, betrayal and hard won redemption move through it. While told with fiction the tale develops from the history and culture of war torn Afghanistan. The book follows a young boy named Amir in the 1960’s. Amir and another boy named Hassan. They are childhood friends in the alleys and orchards of Kabul in the sunny days before the invasion of the Soviet army and Afghanistan’s decent into fanaticism. Both motherless, they grow up as close as brothers, but their fates, they know, are to be different. Amir’s father is a wealthy merchant. Hassan’s father is his manservant. Amir belongs to the ruling caste of Pashtuns, Hassan to the despised Hazaras. Hassan is as good a friend as Amir could ever want. Amir never fully reciprocates. An unspeakable assault on Hassan by a gang of local boys tears the friends apart. Amir witnessed his friend’s torment, but was too afraid to intercede. Plunged into self-loathing, Amir conspires to have Hassan and his father turned out of the household. Mounting ethnic, religious, and political tensions begin to tear Afghanistan apart. When the Soviets invade Afghanistan, Amir and his father flee to San Francisco, leaving Hassan and his father to a pitiless fate. Years later Amir has an opportunity to redeem himself by returning to Afghanistan to begin to repay the debt long owed to the man who should have been his brother.

For my own life with its luxury of reflective time, this story served as a parable. Friendship cannot be overrated. The Bible speaks much about friendship. The intimacy of God’s communication with Moses is that of a friend (Exodus 33:11). The wisdom of Proverbs 17:7 informs me that a true friend loves you all the time. I am reminded that a true friend sticks closer than a brother (Proverbs 18:24). Self examination is not always comfortable but it is biblical. Through the years some people have been better friends to me than I have been to them. I am looking for steps to rekindle friendships. I struggle with memories of betrayal by people I regarded as friends. I abhor the human frailty and selfishness that propel us to squander friendships and leave broken ones unresolved. A memorable quote from The Kite Runner is the words of a friend Rahim Khan inviting Amir back to Afghanistan with these words, ‘There is a way to be good again.”

A Funeral and a Life Lesson

A NEW LEARNING
Today I attended the funeral of a college friend. In the sunshine I drove my MX5 convertible with the top down, radio banging out some hard music and I loved the 45 minute trip.

My friend died of cancer at age seventy-one after a protracted six year struggle. She was uncomplaining, buoyant, happy, and content to the end. Her husband, two married sons and three grandchildren filled her world with joy and peace. She loved God.

I arrived early at the small town church, spoke with two pastors, friends of mine. I sat for a time prior to the start of the memorial service. The sanctuary is an all purpose room. Centre aisle had large nasty carpet stains. If there were assigned ushers they came late. I saw one pastor and then the brother of the deceased handing out memorial programs to guests. An organ and piano played together, sometimes, although at times it was a competition for speed and tune. They did not comfort me. When was the last time you heard an organ in a church. They have all but been eliminated in churches. Remember I am a retired minister. I have officiated hundreds of funerals during my career. In these surroundings on this day, my mind was struggling with concepts of church and aspects of age, what I can tolerate and what makes me uneasy.

I am sixty-six you know. Around me the seats filled with people ten, fifteen and twenty years older than me. That was dismal enough. Then some of my peers entered stoop shouldered, shuffling and convincingly post prime. I began thinking that people likely observe me that way and I was rapidly developing an urgent need to get out of there. I could have run for it, but upon returning home, Christine would ask me about the memorial and I couldn’t tell her that I went but I left before the service started.

A divine thing happened. The memorial program unfolded just as it was printed in the folder. A seven year old granddaughter quoted John 3:16 and later a pastor spoke about Psalm 23 and he alluded to John 3:16 again. The divine happening was that I learned a basic life lesson. Suddenly I realized that the good news doesn’t change. God so loved the world that He gave His Son that whoever believes in Him will not perish but will have everlasting life. The life lesson was that regardless of the predictable changes to creatures and creation and me, God’s good news is ageless. Now that is comforting.