Wisdom 1:13-15, 2:23-24; Mark 5:21-43
We buried Isabelle Kaye this past Tuesday in the Memorial Garden. Our oldest parishioner, she was 101 at the time of her death. I enjoyed visiting with her: she was always so alive and always so ready to die. For the past few years she would smile at me and say, “I don’t know why I’m still here. I’m ready to go at any time.” She had no fear of death. And in that respect she reminded me of many people I have known over the years. Shortly after I was ordained, when I was serving a church in Rhode Island, I used to visit a woman who had cancer that had spread throughout her body. She was often in physical pain, but spiritually she was vibrant. I have no idea if she derived any benefit from my visits: I loved seeing her for purely selfish reasons because she was so radiant and so inspiring to be around. She knew she was dying, of course, and was completely at peace with it. And then there was my friend Phil from Massachusetts. He had heart problems and was on dialysis, and all the treatments were brutal on him and his family. So he decided it was time to stop. He called me the morning he discontinued dialysis. The doctors said he had just a few days to live, so he wanted to tell me that he loved me and that he would see me in the kingdom. After we talked, he went and got his hair cut, because he was Phil and he didn’t want to die looking scruffy. And then he hung out with his kids. Within 48 hours he fell into a coma and passed away. His daughter told me his death was beautiful — and free from fear. I could tell many such stories, stories of people for whom death held no terror, people who knew that we are created for life, life that physical death will not stop.
With that in mind, hear again these words from the book of Wisdom today: God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living. For he created all things so that they might exist. And even more: God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity. The author of this obviously knows people die, but he or she does not view death as our ultimate reality. God is eternal, and we who are created in the image of God are built to enjoy eternal life as well. And of course the resurrection of Jesus just affirms this great truth. Life in this world is precious and to be cherished, but it is only part of our journey. And grasping that — really understanding it — is key to living abundantly. Otherwise, we can too easily fall into fear. And just as I have witnessed people dying without fear, I have seen others who are terribly afraid to die, and their fear has darkened everything.
And even when we don’t fear our own physical death, or at least don’t think about it much, there are other deaths that can terrify us. There is, for example, the fear of failure, and the deadly blow that can give to our egos. Some people are morbidly afraid of getting sick. Others are frightened at the prospect of growing old and losing their independence. Many people fear any loss of control. As much as we try to control everything, so much of life is out of our control, including when we die. And, of course, there is the fear of losing those we love. We see that happening in our Gospel today. Jairus has a 12-year-old daughter who is gravely ill, and he is clearly devastated. There are many ways the fear of death can constrain us and even cripple us.
But Christ has come to lift that burden from us. The Letter to the Hebrews says that Jesus took on flesh and blood to free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death (Heb. 2:15). But how does that happen? When Jesus tells Jairus, Do not fear, only believe, that may well be an impossible command for Jairus in that moment. But it does convey something important to us. The opposite of faith is not doubt: a person can have faith even if she is filled with uncertainty. The opposite of faith is fear. Conversely, the antidote to fear is using our faith and practicing trust.
So rather than just exhort you not to be afraid of death in its various forms, which would be useless and unhelpful, I will encourage you to practice trusting God in a very specific way: by actually facing your fears directly and naming them. Christ can set us free from them, but for that to happen we need to see them and own them. That has been a powerful lesson in my own life. I used to have a paralyzing fear of failure. I was terrified of taking risks, terrified of making mistakes. I could not beat that on my own, but with the encouragement of wise mentors, I learned to look at my fear and really see it for what it was. I was afraid of failure because I was afraid that this fake facade of perfection I desperately tried to create would be shattered, that people would see how imperfect and flawed I really am, that they would laugh at me or despise me, and that my ego would be crushed, and it would all feel like death. And failure is a kind of death to our false self. I would look at all of this with Christ, admit all of it in prayer. It felt awful, but a funny thing happened: over time, the fear just went away. I didn’t conquer it — I couldn’t — Christ just took it. And I feel so much more alive as a result. I can take risks and make mistakes, which I do frequently. I can look like a fool because sometimes I am a fool. That old fear occasionally tries to return, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It has no power over me. I have seen for myself that God’s unconditional love is stronger than any death, and so I am free to live.
So I pass along to you what others have given to me. When we are afraid to die in one way or another, then we cannot be fully alive. We do not have to overcome such fear on our own: Christ can set us free from it. So be honest and be real: share your fear with him, see the full extent of it with him. Ask him to save you from it. The Holy Spirit will do the rest. All of us can experience for ourselves that God’s love is greater than death and can conquer any fear.
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