the miracle of death.

My Holy Saturday morning musing on death and grief (warning: syntax may be questionable )...

The other day my mom called me to let me know that one of her parishioners had passed. We had not long ago spoken with him when we all took a trip to one of the church buildings to grab some things. He such a sweet man, who even while in good spirits, seemed weighed down by his confusion about his circumstances as even then he had been dealing with various pains, ailments and sicknesses. My mom would communicate to me that he had mentioned that he didn’t understand why all of these things are happening to him. He “lived a good life and felt like he’d done good in the eyes of God”, but didn’t understand what he did to deserve such discomfort.

The day my mother called me I had read Genesis 46-49 where in the midst of Joseph’s story, we see his father Israel in his old age and everything shared about his language and behavior in the 30 years from his reconnection with Joseph and his passing, indicates his preparation for death.

I mentioned to my mother that as I’ve read, the Old Testament relationship to death seems significantly more healthy and natural than the New Testament relationship. This is strange to me. They had no guarantee of what happens after death as we do after Jesus’ sacrifice. Maybe it was the long life, but we see the people of God embrace death. They prepare and they pass with such grace.

Today I was thinking about how much it hurts to watch our loved ones go through pain in passing. I think about Jesus. Beaten, mutilated, humiliated, hungry, exhausted, carrying the knowledge of betrayal and lost relationships and mocked at his lack of dignity, he lost everything we hold dear on this earth to be returned to the Father. Jesus, subjected HIMSELF to this reality so that Yahweh’s will could be done.

Death is as much a miracle as life is.

When I look at Israel I see a man who knew that he belonged to God. Who knew he was not his own even as his eyesight went and he became more and more immobile and his body ached he knew that a death by the hand of his own body was the only way he could pass from this world to another. While he didn’t know what lay ahead in Sheol, he knew that God’s power transcend it. One last miracle. That such beauty and life can come out of our last and final sufferings. We have the added sweetness of Jesus’ sacrifice. How do we change our outlook on death? Could our final pain and such be just our perception of pain or preparation for a final miracle. I just found out in the wake of Good Friday that Bob’s funeral was today. I had no clue yet he was on my mind when I woke up this morning. Glad I chose to sit with it. kk. love you. byyeee.