Michael Scaperlanda’s sobering reminder of the fleeting nature of life was poignantly timely for me. I have been thinking along similar lines over the past couple of days. For me, this increased awareness of mortality began with a comedic error that prematurely announced my passing. But the episode has also unsettled me, forcing a pause in my daily routines and challenging my assumptions that there will always be another day.
Although I grew up in Wisconsin (until half-way through my junior year), I actually graduated from Beaverhead County High School in Dillon, Montana. Yesterday, I happened to send a greeting by email to an old friend from my Montana high school days with whom I hadn’t corresponded in a few years. To say that he was “shocked, shocked” to hear from me would be an understatement. To explain the source of his astonishment, he referred me to a classmates update booklet that had been distributed at the 30-year high school reunion held last summer in Dillon. (I had not been invited to the reunion – and now I guess I know why).
As you can see in the picture posted immediately below, the second page of the reunion booklet displays my old high school yearbook picture as part of a memorial to “Our Departed Classmates.” (And, yes, that is an accurate depiction of how I looked in high school in 1978 – in fact,I had cut my hair short for graduation picture day).
After confirming this was not a practical joke, I learned that the reunion committee had received a confidently-expressed report that I had passed away. Indeed, I was told that several stories circulated at the reunion about the cause of my death. I wish that those stories of my death had been about how I had dived into a raging river to save drowning children or how I had rushed into a burning building to rescue a trapped person. Instead, as I gather, the story with the most legs was that I had died several years ago after a massive asthma attack. Given that I’ve never had asthma and remain pretty healthy (although I sure could lose a few pounds), I have no idea where or how this tale originated.
At first, I saw only the humor in the affair. After all, it allowed me to dust off that classic Mark Twain gem: “The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.” The incident also prompted me to touch base with a few others from my Montana days. (And I’m pleased to say that they all were delighted to learn that I remained in the Land of the Living – or at least they were kind enough to say so.)
Later, however, I found myself feeling a little disturbed, even queasy about, this episode. It is more than passing strange to realize that, for almost a year, dozens of people have been thinking of me only in the past tense. And reading the reunion booklet was a little like reading one’s own obituary. (In addition to my portrait appearing on the memorial page, the booklet lists all classmates in alphabetical order with information about their jobs, families, and lives. The listing for me reads simply “DECEASED.”) It was all starting to become a little creepy.
As Michael well says, we should never forget the “fleeting nature” of our own lives and must come to terms with the fact that, in only a century, little trace is likely to remain of us. As a group of legal professionals and academics whose vocation is to work toward a better world and a stronger society, we are called to think about and plan for the future. But we should also remember to live for today, never missing the daily opportunities to care for the most importantthings in our lives, that is,the people around us. We were never promised an unlimited store of tomorrows. Even if it was premature in my case on this occasion, we all someday will be the subject of a picture on a memorial page or in an obituary.
Is it morbid to think along these lines? It certainly can be. And I am not suggesting that we dwell on our inevitable demise (although I could hardly avoid it these past couple of days). Instead, even as we rely upon the promise that death is not the end, we should we recall our mortality for the very purpose of making our days count and for strengthening our daily communion with those brought into our lives.
Greg Sisk
For the past week my wife Maria and I have been in Athens (and now Italy) meeting our youngest at the end of her study abroad experience in Athens. The experience has given me time to reflect on the fleeting nature of political institutions and our own earthly existence. As we walk through the physical remnants of Greek and Roman civilization (and their predecessors), I am reminded that they existed only for a small blip in the earth's chronology. Visiting Pompeii and Herculaneum reminded me how cities could be wiped out in a day. Watching the waves wipe out my footprints in the sand reminded me of the fleeting nature of my own life and how 100 years from now nobody will have any memory (and probably no knowledge) of me. Such is the nature of this human existence. For my light reading, I brought along Robert Harris' wonderful novel, Pompeii. And, for my less light reading, I brought along St. Augustine's City of God. As you probably reminder, Augustine is defending Christianity against the charge that it (and the prohibition against worshiping pagan god's) led to the downfall of the Roman Empire. He charged some with ingratitude for falling to see blessings in the midst of hardship.
I was sitting on the beach near Paestum (Greek temples near Agropoli, Italy) this afternoon thinking about this with a post formulating in my head when we discovered that the bag with our passports, wallets, camera, car keys, etc. was missing - stolen from a nearly deserted beach right from under our eyes. In the midst of the inconvenience, which we are still dealing with, we were sent two angels - a young couple Francesco and Emiliana who were a few yards from us. They called the police, took me to the police station, translated while a filed the report, went back to the car to get the license number, brought me coffee, brought my wife and daughter water, and brought us back to our hotel - basically giving up their whole afternoon for us. How should we react? Upset over our misfortune? Or, thankful for this couple? I choose thanks and may I have the awareness and love to give up my afternoon for someone else in need.
BTW - we are having a great time.
Thanks to Rob and Steve for their thoughtful views. I will have to defer addressing Steve's posting until tomorrow. But I shall attempt to answer Rob's last posting here. I have tried to present arguments that are legal and meta-legal as to why the well-formed conscience, as opposed to the poorly formed conscience, should be protected. With his clarification, Rob is not asking about how the Church should treat the poorly formed conscience. Rather he is asking whether the conformity of one's conscience to Church teaching should be relevant to its treatment under the civil law. As we have seen in the evolution of the draft cases, the highest court of our land has given favorable treatment to the religious arguments for conscientious objection against combat service as well as secular ones. So, we have judicial precedent taking stock of and respecting the religious argument regarding the taking of life in combat. I think the legal argument to protect the person who objects on religious grounds to the taking of early human life by abortion logically follows. If it does not, then there is a problem not in my argument but with the dispensation of the law.
RJA sj
The President supports extending the program's funding, but for current students only. The Washington Post comments here.
To follow up on Fr. Araujo's response (and to underscore Steve's comment), I am not asking about how the Church should treat the poorly formed conscience. I am asking whether the conformity of one's conscience to Church teaching should be relevant to its treatment under the civil law.
