Joy and Death as Matters of Fact
Every person breathing air right now will no longer be doing so in 2140. No one alive today was around to see the start of the 20th century.
That's the nature of life and death. It's human experience.
Sometimes we make light of it.
There is a town in Colorado that hosts an annual festival called "Frozen Dead Guy Days." It apparently centers around an old man from Norway who died and wanted his body to remain frozen. The town of Nederlands, Colorado celebrates him every winter with a huge music festival, a salmon toss, a polar plunge where people dress up like zombies, and a coffin race. (They canceled the festival this year because of COVID-29.)
Sometimes the reality of death hits home. Hard.
Especially in a global pandemic. The reality that every single one of us will face is something we don't want to think much about. Death is tough to look at square in the eyes. We fear the unknown. Sometimes it's easier to ignore what we fear. To bypass things we don't understand.
During our current crisis, I've heard a lot of people talk about "living well in the immediate present." It's advice I agree with, frankly. There's not much you can do about the past. The future is uncertain, at best. The immediate present is what we have.
Yet, there's more.
I'm grateful for a background in Theology at times like this. I'm grateful for a faith that allows me to hold two poles in balance.
We live with joy.
Knowing that life is a gift we ought to enjoy. From a great cup of coffee to quality time spent with the most important people in our lives, there is joy. The fact joy exists in things great and small is clear evidence that God exists and that he's made us to enjoy what this life has to offer.
We live with sorrow.
This is what I believe CS Lewis meant when he said, "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." There will always be sorrow when we leave behind the familiar. We grow to love the familiar. This planet and the people who inhabit this planet are sometimes wearisome, tedious and downright infuriating - but they're my people. I know them. They are a touch of the familiar.
On this Easter Sunday, joy and sorrow live together, connected by faith. There is joy and sorrow today because, in the Christian faith, joy and sorrow come from the same place (Tolkien said something along these lines). I'm feeling that today. Death and joy are inevitable experiences for every human who's ever lived.
