The irrelevance of death

As I write this, on Monday, September 29, it’s the actual day of my 80^th birthday. I’m entering into a new decade and a new phase in the adventure that is growing older. It’s hitting me today—80 years old. That’s up there. The thought that occurred to me in the early hours was that, from here on, death will not be a tragedy, but rather a normal part of life. It’s coming closer all the time. That’s natural. People might say, “Too bad she’s gone, but she lived a good long life.” And it would be true.

What a strange combination—celebration and death. But that’s how my mind works sometimes.

Hal and I are memorizing Psalm 16, a passage full of encouragement and bright promise. I encourage you to taste it, too. Concerning death and the future, the last three verses read,

“… my heart is glad and my tongues rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”

The words about not leaving us in the realm of the dead nor letting us see decay are said to be about Jesus and his resurrection from the dead. But I think they speak of us, too. They tell us that, for God’s faithful followers, death is irrelevant. It’s not the final word. At 80, I may be closer to that big transition, but that’s what it is—a transition from life to LIFE.

I need not be afraid.

Now on to the poem that I come back to every September 29, which, on the liturgical calendar, is the Feast of the Archangels. What a day to be born!

 

September 29
(The Feast of the Archangels)

Every year on September 29
they gather.
Raphael brings the drinks,
while Michael and Gabriel
raid the pantry for caviar and taco chips.
They congregate in the fireside room,
spread the food on the table,
pull out the Parcheesi board,
and take off their shoes.
Then they sing.
They start with the old songs
--Psalm 100, the Magnificat,
"Behold, I bring good tidings"
(a favorite after all these years)--
work their way through Gregorian chants
and Martin Luther to New World
Yankee Doodle, Southern gospel,
and somewhere in the process
they sing Happy Birthday to me.
With voices like whales
or arctic wolves,
strange, far, and wholly holy,
the archangels celebrate.
"Don't be afraid," they tell me.
Planets realign.
The juice of the sun flows free.