Waltari
wrote:
We rode together to the church as day was fading behind the
Turkish camp and shedding a last gleam of blood on the green domes of the
churches. … In my heart I knew that for
the last time a doomed Byzantium was gathering to dedicate itself to death.
…In the presence of death, all quarreling, suspicion and
hatred disappeared. Each and everyone
bowed his head before the inscrutable mystery, according to his own conscience.
In the presence of us all the Emperor confessed his sins in
the phrases that centuries have hallowed.
The Latins [meaning the Romans] joined with him in murmuring
chorus. … Tonight no one was disturbed
by these divergences. All proceeded as
by tacit agreement, and the Greeks in their relief wept more loudly than
before, because their faith was no longer condemned.
There were so many in church that the bread would not go
around. But each one willingly shared
with his nearest neighbors the morsel he had received, so that all who came
might have at least a crumb of the sacred Body of Christ. Whether the bread were leavened or unleavened
[as they had argued before] made no difference now.
During the service, which lasted several hours, we were moved
by a strong and radiant ecstasy, more wonderful than any I have known in any
church.”
The Rev. Dr.
Paul Zahl, who introduced me to this passage said of it:
“In the presence of death”:
that is the key phrase. In the
presence of death, the animating purpose of church that night became, and still
becomes, clear: mystery, tolerance, compassion, even ecstasy and out-of-body
feeling. No vertical status, no hollow
“cant”, no empty ritual (but real ritual, which means something to people), no
judgments and no opinions. Rather, practical
aid in time of need, mutual support, forgiveness, and encouragement.[ii]
In the
presence of death only a few things matter: the love of God and the love of
family, friends, and neighbor.
In the
presence of death every nonessential prerequisite washes away and only the
essentials are left.
In this
moment of powerful recognition of the finite nature of life we are able to see
clearly our unity.
We are able
to see ourselves more clearly…perhaps as God sees us – transparently presented
naked before him with all of our messy feelings of inadequacy and failings laid
out before us.
The brutality
of honest reflection reminds us of our complete and utter dependence upon God
alone.
The shield
of projected blame upon our neighbor falls to the ground as we are mindful that
nothing, that nothing in the presence of death, can avert its eye from our
predictable human condition.
Jungian
analyst James Hollis reflecting on Thomas Nashe’s A Litany in Time of Plague
recalls:
Brightness falls from the air.
Queens have died, young and fair.
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
…and then
writes, “It is not so much that death shocks or surprises us…but that there
are, finally, no exceptions, no exemptions. As Job found to his dismay, we have
no signed contract with the Party of the First Part, and all things fall. Brightness itself falls. Even queens, young and comely, are no
exception.”[iii]
You are dust
and to dust you shall return.
In this
moment of clarity, in the presence of death, we are united seeking comfort from
one another, forgiveness from one another, encouragement from one another; and
from God.
We see plainly
that all of this – churchy business - is really only meant for one profound
thing…to link us to God and to one another in an open and honest relationship.
And what
happens?
What happens
in that moment…in the presence of death? In the presence of dust and ashes and
dry bones?
What happens
is that God reaches out to us, his frail and little people, huddled in mass, mumbling
trifles of repentance, some going through the motions out of obligation, others
fearful of letting anyone know the truth within us…and God reaches out towards
us and whispers amongst the prayers spoken from parched and trembling lips …”I
love you.”
I love you.
I forgive
you.
Forgive
yourself.
Forgive one
another.
I love you.
[i] Mika
Waltari, The Dark Angel, Translated by Naomi Walford (New York: G.P.
Putnam’s Sons, 1953), 322ff.
[ii] Paul
Zahl, PZ’s Panopticon,
(Charlottesville, VA: Mockingbird Ministries, Inc., 2013)65ff.
[iii]
James Hollis, The Archetypal Imagination, (College Station, Tx: Texas A&M
University Press, 2000) 3ff.
