Saturday, December 1, 2012

Death and faith...or lack thereof

In recent days, my dad passed away.  I have said in a previous post, my Catholic Faith has given me great solace and comfort in its teaching that since Jesus Christ, borne out of His great love for, gave His life to redeem us, frees us from enslavement to sin and death so that when we approach that moment of death we can do so with eternal hope.  My dad had this hope and desperately wanted his children to share in that hope. Because I choose to live the hope that my dad modeled for me and wanted in instill in me by having me baptized, I can approach this moment in time with intense calm and hope.  I proudly live this hertiage my dad sought to pass down to his children.

Yesterday, one of my siblings friends, a person who self-describes herself as a liberal and atheist, posted on my sister's Facebook wall a few words of comfort from her perspective.  I know she meant well in helping her friend deal with the loss of her dad, but I was struck by the hopelessness of those words and how they wanted to drag my sister into that same hopelessness, a hopelessness that my dad would have categorically disagreed with intensely and would have taken great offense that someone was using this opportunity to directly dismiss his own deep held faith with one of his children.  Again, I do not want to say that this person had malicious intent.  This person has her beliefs and in a free society she is entitled to express them.  But as someone who struggled with agnosticism in my early 20's, I can hardly condemn her.

For me, finding my way back to faith was first more an act of logic than faith.  It goes like this:  it is physically impossible for something to come from nothing.  All matter is regulated by the properties of time and space.  Logically, only that which is not bound by these properties has the ability to bring them into being, and hence the created order into existence.  It is called the ex nihilo argument for the existence of God.  That the created order is so well ordered even in the seeming chaos points to an intelligent power bearing responsibility for that created order.  It was for this reason that I could never intellectually accept atheism as a viable or logical reality.  It is not logical.  This left me at a Theist or agnostic state.  That whatever created had any relationship with that creation was another question.  That I struggled with.  I had to reconcile the faith I had studied (that my dad had passed to me) with what I saw in this world.  Why did tragedies happen?  Why did good people suffer?  Having been in the seminary, I saw a lot of activity from clerics that did not jibe with the teachings of the Church...if their knowledge couldn't provoke them to authentically live that faith, why should I then give any credence to that faith?  It was their poor witness paired with me wanting to be unshackled by what seemed an empty morality that led me to be an agnostic for a few years.

A few years went by.  Something ate at me about the worldview I was holding: It was awful convenient to hold what I was holding because it changed to locus of authority from outside myself to being myself.  Morality, hence, was whatever I wanted it to be and I found I rarely challenged myself to be a better person. I knew I was supposed to be a good person.  I was honest and diligent at work, I stepped into a supportive role for my siblings after my parents divorced, but I was slightly promiscuous, incredibly materialistic and not a happy person.  I chain smoked.  I was argumentative.  I had a hair string temper.  I had ulcers.  I was comfortable in my agnosticism on one level, but felt a great abyss of emptiness inside that no money, power, or pleasure could sate.  I remember one night sitting on my deck in Missouri and realizing that there would never be enough money, promotions, toys, sex, or other pleasures to fill what was lacking.  Life became futile and meaningless in that absolutely everything that I was could be taken from me and at best all I could get was temporary relief.  I fought returning to faith because it too had disappointed me.  I refer to that next 6 months as the dark night.  I remembered something from my seminary days, a quote from St Augustine: "our hearts are restless until they rest in you."  My heart was most definitely restless and unfulfilled by the earthly trinkets that surrounded me.  Then I started taking the next logical steps.

What made more sense: that this creator created with or without a reason or purpose?  Logically, it made greater sense that there would be intent and hence reason and purpose.  What made more sense:  that the reasons would be malicious or beneficial?  I remember my dad taking me on hikes when I was 4th grader in Indiana.  He loved the outdoors and would point out while we were walking what kind of tree, plant, bird, animal, or rock I was looking at. He is responsible for my love of nature and the outdoors.  I thought much later in life as to why we call natural disasters 'Acts of God', but we don't refer to newly blooming flower, the beauty of new life, the awesomeness of a mountain range, the splendor of a sunrise, the warmth of friendship, the sounds of a gentle rain, the smell of a spring meadow, the sound of a child's laugh, "acts of God' as well?
The earth was full of beauty both profound and simple and co-existed with the ugliness, suffering, and agonies of life.  However because our bodies and the created order are limited to time and space, we grow old, we get sick, and our bodies cease to function.  However, there was something in me that knew that there was more.  That started me on the road of faith.  I saw the profound difference it made in others and I wanted that for myself.

My dad had every reason to be a bitter man by worldly standards.  He was snatched from his home by DFS as a pre-teen.  He bounced from one horrific foster home to another till my grandparents adopted him.  His 23 year marriage ended badly.  He never got rich.  He never got powerful.  He had an incurable disease in Parkinsons that would eventually make his mind a prisoner of his body.  I could go on and on about how many things he had to endure and the disappointments this life heaped on him, however, as I watched my dad in this last month, I saw a man of deep faith who was full of joy even as his body was turning against him.  In that last month, I witnessed a man at peace with the world, with God, and with himself.  As I sat by his bed with two very good friends and watched him take his last breath, I can not describe adequately the calm and peace of that moment.  Everything inside me told me that all that my dad had hoped and desired in this life, he was  now experiencing.  I'll not allow any atheist to rob me or my family of that moment.  I will not allow them to infuse their hopeless world view into this moment.  This person can believe what she wants, but I choose not to share in such a maudlin worldview or allow my siblings to hear that view unchallenged.  

Anyone who knows me well or has heard me preach knows that our Catholic preaches that we are to be a people who merciful, charitable, kind, forgiving, compassionate, faithful stewards of God's gifts, including the world in which we live, and faithful witnesses of Christ.  When we fail to live to these standards, we give scandal and give ample fuel to those who would dismiss God and faith altogether.  Dad knew this and grew more and more into this and wanted his children to know the fulfillment he felt.  It troubled him that not all did.  I know it troubled him when I didn't.  I know he now prays for his children and grandchildren because he wants us to be with him...he modeled a path...if we are wise we will try to walk on it despite all life throws at us.  I told my dad two things minutes before he passed from this life: I would take care of his dog for as long as Buddy lived and that I would watch out for my brothers and sisters.  I asked him to intercede to help me do these things.

To my sister's friend:  I know you meant well.  You wanted to comfort my sister and I deeply appreciate that.  However she is my dad's daughter first.  Both you and I have made our decisions.  Fair enough.  I introduce a little philosophical nugget known as Pascal's Wager in reference to God. If you are right and I am wrong, I can live with that.  I have spent the majority of my life inviting people to be selfless, to be merciful and forgiving, to be good stewards of our blessings, to help those in need, to respect the integrity and  dignity of every human person..even though at times I can fail to live up fully to that.  If you are rightI wont' be cognizant to realize it anyway and thus have no regrets.  I have a joyful and fulfilled life even though I will never be wealthy, powerful, or indulge in certain pleasures.  I have that same calm and peace my dad had and I see it as the most precious part of his inheritance and example for me and my siblings.  However, if I am right, then I have lived a life that has told God my desire for heaven and union with Him and you have rejected him.  All judgment amounts to is a verification of our own free choice.  God condemns no one to hell, it is a personal choice each person makes.  Truth be told, I would just as soon have you on my side.  Yes there are things in the created order that bring sickness, suffering and death...but we were not created to just be is transitory at best.  If God has indeed given us a part that will transcend time and space (the soul), my ultimate hope and peace lies there.  That is why when my dad whom I loved a great deal passed from this life, I had no sense of loss or any sense of overwhelming grief, ( I did cry profusely as I spoke my good-bye, my promise to carry on the heritage he wanted to pass on to me and my siblings and his grandchildren and ask for his help), the legacy of faith my dad left filled that moment with intense calm and peace.

At his funeral this coming week, it will be celebration of my dad and his deep felt and well justified faith in God.  Dad suffered greatly and had his long Good is the time to celebrate his share in Easter.
The closing song of my dad's funeral mass will proclaim his belief, my belief,  and the belief of every faith filled Christian:
Sing with all the saints in glory,
sing the resurrection son!
death and sorrow, earth's dark story
to former days belong!
All around the clouds are breaking
soon the storms of time shall cease.
In God's likeness we, awaking,
know the everlasting peace!


  1. What a wonderful gift your father was to you. Thank you for sharing this here in such a beautiful, honest way. My prayers are with you and your family - may the Holy Spirit fill you all with peace and joy as you celebrate your dad's Easter!

  2. The post I made which inspired this blog, for anyone who is interested. (This will be posted on my blog as well).

    The following is a letter to my friend. It is a letter to all of my friends. It is a letter to everyone I love. It is a letter to anyone who loves their family. It is a reminder of the fragile nature of life; how quickly it can come to an end.

    The topic of this letter is a subject no one ever wants to discuss, yet it is something that we will all continue to experience for the rest of our lives: death.

    Dear Ann,

    Anytime someone loses a family member, people are quick to offer words of comfort such as, “God is taking care of him, now.” They try to assure others dealing with loss that this life is merely a transition to the next. I realize that many people are currently providing you with such words of reassurance and I hope you understand why I cannot do the same.

    I do not believe or even want to believe that your father’s hardships and death were part of some plan that humans cannot possibly understand. I would not be comforted by such ideas during a period of grief and I imagine these ideas are not doing much to comfort you during yours.

    I certainly am not attempting to suggest that I can somehow take away your sadness; I cannot. You have suffered a devastating loss and nothing can change that. So why, then, am I bothering to write this letter? Why am I taking the time to say these things to you and to anyone else who might be listening?

    The reason for my letter is this: The death of your father is the most painful thing you have ever experienced and I cannot be there for you. I also cannot tell you that I believe you will see your father again one day; I do not. I love you enough not to temporarily ease your pain by trying to convince you that death is not final; it is.

    I cannot tell you that I believe your father is alive in some other world, but I can tell you that he is still alive in ours. There is no evidence to suggest that any part of us survives death, yet you are surrounded by evidence of your father’s life. Everything he left behind lives on. Every memory is yours to keep. And every day is a new opportunity to share something that he gave to you with others. In that way, he continues to live on.

    Death is part of the natural process of the universe. The stars died so that we could experience life. The human body continuously regenerates and replaces cells. Our very planet has been experiencing these natural processes for 4.5 billion years thus far, and will continue to do so for long after you and I cease to be aware of its existence.

    The age of the planet does not; however, take away importance from our moment in time; it brings awareness to the special importance of it. Each moment passes so that a new one can be experienced. No moment from this point forth will ever be exactly the same, just as no moment in the history of our universe will ever repeat itself.

    Your father is still intimately connected with this universe. It is despite very low probability that he was even born at all; therefore, the fact that he is gone does not mean that his life holds any less importance or value. Life does not have to be everlasting in order to be meaningful. In fact, if life were eternal, it would have no meaning at all.

    Despite his death, your father’s life still holds great significance. I believe that you will find your greatest comfort in defining that meaning for yourself.

  3. okay...point taken. You have your beliefs and I have mine. But it is MY dad, not yours. I would have respected your dads beliefs had the shoe been on the other foot. I dad was deeply faithful and would have taken great offense. Since this post is about my dad, I would hope that his beliefs be taken into account.