Another powerful and beautiful reflection from Fr. Beck's book:
from Soul Provider
Fr. Edward L. BeckIs it true that death gives meaning to life or, at least, informs life? Saint John Climacus writes, "Just as bread is the most necessary of all foods, so the thought of death is the most essential of all works. . . The man who lives daily with the thought of death is to be admired, and the man who gives himself to it b the hour is surely a saint." The knowledge of our mortality is therefore an incitement to live more fully. When we realize that we have a limited time to revel in the gift of human life, we are infused with an urgency that an endless life might not offer. There is only so much time to climb that beautiful mountain, or swim in that pristine ocean, or appreciate the sound to that bird calling to its mate. More significantly, our time with those whom we love is limited. Why waste the time with the nonessentials: family feuds that last for years, long-held grudges, opportunities at loving never taken?
The absolute certainty of death is something most of us look at (if at all) with a sidelong glance--perhaps detecting it most of the time in our peripheral vision. It would be better for all that if be faced squarely and clearly.
We know this--we don't face it. However, it is expressed beautifully in this song:
"Live Like You Were Dying"
Tim McGraw
He said I was in my early forties, with a lot of life before me
And one moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days, looking at the x-rays
Talking bout' the options and talking bout' sweet times.
I asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end
How's it hit 'cha when you get that kind of news?
Man what did ya do?
He said
I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'
He said I was finally the husband, that most the time I wasn't
And I became a friend, a friend would like to have
And all of a sudden goin' fishin, wasn't such an imposition
And I went three times that year I lost my dad
Well I finally read the good book, and I took a good long hard look
At what I'd do if I could do it all again
And then
I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Shu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'
Like tomorrow was the end
And ya got eternity to think about what to do with it
What should you do with it
What can I do with it
What would I do with itSkydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And man I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I watched an eagle as it was flyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'To live like you were dyin'
Another way of asking the same thing is, "Why wait for judgment to try to do what you know you ought? Then is too late." Our time is now. It can be intolerably brief, or it can seem like an eternity of waiting. Either way, if we live it knowing that it will end, perhaps it will serve to make us a little more patient, a little more tender, a little more willing to risk vulnerability, a little more inclined to take risks to help others. Think of how those we love could blossom, those with whom we work could grow into new possibility. What if I took my position as a manager seriously and used that position to truly serve others? Because our leaders, ideally, are in fact our servants. They blaze the trails for us and point the direction. They don't do all of the work, but they help clear the way for work to be done. Or, perhaps they would, if they lived in the shadow and foreknowledge of Eternity--knowing that this ends and afterwards comes Judgment. And perfect love casteth out fear--particularly fear of judgment because we do what we do not for hope of Heaven or fear of Hell, but solely for the love of God.
It's a funny thing but this book did nothing for me. I think it's just not the right book for me right now because obviously you are getting a great deal from it and there is nothing at all wrong with the book itself. Just not what I need at the moment perhaps or, just as likely, the author and I weren't connecting.
Dear Julie,
Don't feel bad, it is simply a sign of consistency. My recollection has been that you don't much care for the ascetic tradition in religion--it is not a comfortable place for you. While Father Beck's book updates St. John Climacus, it is no less ascetic for the fact that it is accessible and relevant. That may be one thing I like so much about it. The traditions of ascetic theology and practice are given a new life and a new look and their relevance is shown for all to see.
So, given your prior notes on such things, I actually don't expect it to suddenly start transforming your world or worldview, or suddenly start having deep meaning and connections. That's okay--it's obviously not part of your vocation. Not everyone is called that way. But it is surely good to know what that way looks like, because while we won't cling to the entire tradition, we may find individual things within it that help us make the most of our spiritual life.
And please pardon me if any of my assumptions here are impudent. I don't mean for them to be.
shalom,
Steven
Actually, now that I examine it in view of my previous likes and dislikes it is that ... for me only, not for others ... the writer is too simple. Everything I'm reading from him makes me think, well yeah but what else? The examples don't add anything to what I've already read on the various subjects is what I suppose I'm saying. At least to me. I also mean no disrespect which is why I say that it is not necessarily the writer but the connection problem. :-)
Dear Julie,
That's very interesting because I would say exactly the opposite. I see great depth and complexity in what he writes, but I see it expressed simply. Perhaps it is the St. Therese syndrome--everyone looks and says, 'That's so simple a flowery French schoolgirl could come up with it."
But as with all of these things, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. And while it may be very simple, it is, in fact, not particularly easy. Perhaps that is why I connect so much--the depth of the relationship to all of the mystical authors I know is so substantial and genuine, and I feel like he's actually telling me something I could really do (with, of course, the aid of Grace.)
But thanks for writing back, it offers a perspective I had not considered before and in my final review I might want to reflect on that a little more.
shalom,
Steven