DEATH
"Of late years, wealth has made us greedy, and self-indulgence has brought us, through every form of sensual excess, to be, if I may so put it, in love with death." (Livy, History of Rome)
Too obvious to say ... Livy is writing before or around the time of Jesus Christ. I know within some circles the comparisons of Rome and America are tired and overdrawn ... but this specifically connected with me when I read it today. Here is one of my favorite parts from The Second Coming by Walker Percy. The main character has been contemplating suicide and in a way even attempted it. Here we have him hitting on something: "for all the world like a man who has hit upon the solution to a problem which had vexed him for years."
"Ha, there is a secret after all, he said. But to know the secret answer, you must first know the secret question. The question is, who is the enemy?
Not to know the name of the enemy is already to have been killed by him.
Ha, he said, dancing, snapping his fingers and laughing and hooting ha hoo hee, jumping up and down and socking himself, but I do know. I know. I know the name of the enemy.
The name of the enemy is death, he said, grinning and shoving his hands in his pockets. Not the death of dying but the living death.
The name of this century is the Century of the Love of Death. Death in this century is not the death people die but the death people live. Men love death because real death is better than the living death. That's why men like wars, of course. Bad as wars are and maybe because they are so bad, thinking of peace during war is better than peace. War is what makes peace desirable. But peace without war is intolerable. Why do men settle so easily for lives which are living deaths?'
He goes on to say he knows all the names of death and he won't let any of them prevail ... then he comes to an end with some discussion of death and marraige:
"Death in the guise of marriage and family and children is not going to prevail over me. What happened to marriage and family that it should have become a travail and a sadness, marriage till death do us part yes but long dead before the parting, home and fireside and kiddies such a travail and a deadliness as to make a man run out into the night with his hands over his head? Show me that Norman Rockwell picture of the American family at Thanksgiving dinner and I'll show you the first faint outline of the death's-head.
God may be good, family and marriage and children and home may be good, grandma and grandpa may act wise, the Thanksgiving table may be groaning with God's goodness and bounty, all the folks healthy and happy, but something is missing. What is this sadness here? Why do the folks put up with it? The truth seeker does not. Instead of joining hands with the folks and bowing his head in prayer, the truth seeker sits in an empty chair as invisible as Banquo's ghost, yelling at the top of his voice: Where is it? What is missing? Where did it go? I won't have it! I won't have it! Why this sadness here? Don't stand for it! Get up! Leave! Let the boat people sit down! Go live in a cave until you've found the thief who is robbing you. But at least protest. Stop, thief! What is missing? God? Find him!"
We must stop the thief! Christ on the cross is the road for us ... Lord have mercy.
Too obvious to say ... Livy is writing before or around the time of Jesus Christ. I know within some circles the comparisons of Rome and America are tired and overdrawn ... but this specifically connected with me when I read it today. Here is one of my favorite parts from The Second Coming by Walker Percy. The main character has been contemplating suicide and in a way even attempted it. Here we have him hitting on something: "for all the world like a man who has hit upon the solution to a problem which had vexed him for years."
"Ha, there is a secret after all, he said. But to know the secret answer, you must first know the secret question. The question is, who is the enemy?
Not to know the name of the enemy is already to have been killed by him.
Ha, he said, dancing, snapping his fingers and laughing and hooting ha hoo hee, jumping up and down and socking himself, but I do know. I know. I know the name of the enemy.
The name of the enemy is death, he said, grinning and shoving his hands in his pockets. Not the death of dying but the living death.
The name of this century is the Century of the Love of Death. Death in this century is not the death people die but the death people live. Men love death because real death is better than the living death. That's why men like wars, of course. Bad as wars are and maybe because they are so bad, thinking of peace during war is better than peace. War is what makes peace desirable. But peace without war is intolerable. Why do men settle so easily for lives which are living deaths?'
He goes on to say he knows all the names of death and he won't let any of them prevail ... then he comes to an end with some discussion of death and marraige:
"Death in the guise of marriage and family and children is not going to prevail over me. What happened to marriage and family that it should have become a travail and a sadness, marriage till death do us part yes but long dead before the parting, home and fireside and kiddies such a travail and a deadliness as to make a man run out into the night with his hands over his head? Show me that Norman Rockwell picture of the American family at Thanksgiving dinner and I'll show you the first faint outline of the death's-head.
God may be good, family and marriage and children and home may be good, grandma and grandpa may act wise, the Thanksgiving table may be groaning with God's goodness and bounty, all the folks healthy and happy, but something is missing. What is this sadness here? Why do the folks put up with it? The truth seeker does not. Instead of joining hands with the folks and bowing his head in prayer, the truth seeker sits in an empty chair as invisible as Banquo's ghost, yelling at the top of his voice: Where is it? What is missing? Where did it go? I won't have it! I won't have it! Why this sadness here? Don't stand for it! Get up! Leave! Let the boat people sit down! Go live in a cave until you've found the thief who is robbing you. But at least protest. Stop, thief! What is missing? God? Find him!"
We must stop the thief! Christ on the cross is the road for us ... Lord have mercy.
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