Perhaps
the harshest reality of human existence is death. Intellectually, we all know
that some day we will die, but we in the West tend to ignore this reality as
long as possible. Our culture is devoted to materialism, youth, and power. We
put our old people into homes where they often die abandoned and alone. Many build
their lives on models that do not take into account “the fact of death.”
Sogyal
Rinpoche, the Buddhist monk wrote The
Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, said that when he first came to the West,
he was shocked by Western culture’s denial and lack of understanding of death. Because
death can come at any moment, Rinpoche believes it is important to meditate on
the impermanence of things and
arrange our lives accordingly. Instead of trying desperately to grasp and hold
on to things, we must learn detachment, or letting go. Detachment is not
indifference; rather, it is coming to terms with the fact that all of those things
will pass away.
But
for many people, it is not only their own mortality that troubles them, but it
is the realization that at any moment their loved ones could be taken away. In
fact, this possibility can be more frightening than thinking about our own
death. And for many, this nightmare becomes reality.
Rabbi
Harold Kushner, who wrote When Bad Things
Happen to Good People, lost his son to a rare disease called progeria, or “rapid
aging.” The child was diagnosed at an early age, and Kushner and his wife had to
watch as their happy little boy slowly turned into an old man before their eyes
and then died in his early teens. Going through this excruciating experience,
Kushner grew into a man of depth. His book, so human and wise, has helped
thousands to face their own tragedies. Near the end of the book, Kushner
expresses with disarming honesty how his son Aaron’s life and death changed
him:
I am a more sensitive
person, a more effective pastor, a more sympathetic counselor because of Aaron’s
life and death than I would ever have been without it. And I would give up all
of those gains in a second if I could have my son back. If I could choose, I
would forego all the spiritual growth and depth which has come my way because
of our experiences, and be what I was fifteen years ago, an average rabbi, an
indifferent counselor, helping some people and unable to help others, and the
father of a bright, happy boy. But I cannot choose.
Kushner’s
touching statement captures the truth of those whose souls have grown wise from
painful loss: he would give it all up in
a second if he could have his son back. This is how it is with dark nights
of the soul.
It
is true that souls grow strong and people develop an authentic capacity to
console others through excruciating experiences. But no one can celebrate that
kind of growth like an egoistic victory -- because
the price they paid was far too high.
SOURCE:
Beyond Religion: A Personal Program For
Building a Spiritual Life Outside the Walls of Traditional Religion by
David N. Elkins, Ph.D.; pp. 253-255.
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