death

Triumphal Entry

Frank

They huddle around one another, listening to some final words of wisdom and last-minute instructions. They may take a knee in prayer. Then together, unified, they make their triumphal entry.

It is a sports tradition as players leave the locker room to slap a sticker, logo, or saying above the door. “Pride” “Bear Down” “War Eagle” The Clemson Tigers rub “Howard’s Rock” before taking the field. A simple reminder before game time.

For those in Jerusalem, they laid down palm branches for their coming King.

Epic Choke

We are in the midst of March Madness with its Cinderella stories and upsets galore. But fans’ expectations are sometimes too high. Although the unpredictability is what makes the NCAA basketball tournament so exciting, we are quick to judge the losers- the team was over-rated, the coach wasn’t prepared (both Minnesota and UCLA fired their coaches in the last couple of days despite having relatively successful seasons), the players were soft; or sometimes the worst insult in all of sports- they simply choked on the big stage.

Can you imagine the crowd’s surprise as they heard that the Messiah was coming? People rushed out into the streets thinking, “here he comes! He’s going to restore God’s Kingdom! Time to show those Romans who’s boss!” And as they peered over one anothers’ shoulders, they saw a humble man riding a donkey.

Sure, for the educated they recalled the prophesy in Zechariah, but he still didn’t look like a king ready for battle. I’m sure many doubted upon seeing him. Of course the Bible records that others responded with cheers of Hosanna in the Highest.

Can you imagine their surprise when only a few days later this king-to-be would be killed in a public spectacle?

If Facebook was around at the time I’m sure someone would have posted a picture of the crucifixion with the caption “Epic Fail” Epic would definitely be the right word to describe it; fail, not so much. What the people did not understand was that God’s Kingdom involved more than Jerusalem. In fact, it involved more than the living. The Christ died only to overcome death three days later, establishing His Reign over both life and death.

We call Palm Sunday Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” but the real triumph came when Jesus died and entered the grave.

But that wasn’t good enough for many fans at the time. And it’s not good enough for many still today.

Defeating Death

Frank

Today, I’m continuing my Avengers theme with a post that has been percolating in my head for a long time. Warning, there be spoilers ahead!

So far I have covered Iron Man and the Hulk. But today I want to key in on possibly the most powerful character to appear in ‘The Avengers’ movie. Did I mention there would be spoilers?

I figure just about everyone has seen the Avengers, having grossed more than a billion dollars, so you’ve had your opportunity.

At the end of the first credits sequence (the animated one, not the traditional scroll) we are introduced to a character who is warned that to take on Earth and the Avengers is to “court death.” The character then turns and smiles at the camera. No, it’s not Hellboy or the Red Skull as those in the audience less nerdy than me speculated (hey, Marvel, just seeing the reactions online tells me you need to do some work post-processing to make this guy purple, not red!). But is instead the character Thanos.

That name doesn’t mean much to the casual fan, but to those of us who have been paying attention, we have been anticipating his introduction since 2010 when the Infinity Gauntlet was shown off at the San Diego ComicCon as one of the Marvel movie props. The Gauntlet later showed up in the movie ‘Thor’. So even though I knew he would be making an appearance in ‘The Avengers’ I still got chills when I heard those words, “court death,” because I knew exactly what that meant. You see, Thanos has an obsession with death, even “courting” a woman who is the personification of death in the comic book universe. Thanos also makes sense as an adversary in the movie universe because his first story in comic books involved his pursuit of the Cosmic Cube (called the Tasseract in the movie). He later rose to fame in the 90’s through the mini-series The Infinity Gauntlet and its many spin-off stories. For more on Thanos, check out this write-up from Comic Book Resources and also his wikipedia page.

So far, we know that he won’t the villain in either Iron Man 3 (who will be the Mandarin, played by Ben Kingsley- seriously, how cool is that!) or Thor 2 (who has not yet been identified, but execs have been explicit it will not be Thanos). So Marvel studios have their work cut out for them to introduce this character and give him a meaningful arc.

Which brings me back to the Infinity Gauntlet and the real subject of this post. (for more on the Gauntlet, check out the wikipedia page) You see, there isn’t yet a character in the movies who can stand toe-to-toe with Thanos. The Silver Surfer was instrumental in taking down Thanos in the Infinity Gauntlet storyline, but the rights to that character are still owned by Fox because of his appearance in ‘The Fantastic Four’. So that leaves us with the Surfer’s partner in that story, Adam Warlock. (The golden person behind Thanos with the red cape above; again, check out his wikipedia page) Will he be somehow introduced into the Marvel movie universe? I sure hope so.

So what does Warlock, the Surfer, and Thanos have to do with the subject matter of this blog (“Public Christianity” in case you forgot)? Well personally, I have always been intrigued by Warlock’s character, from his introduction as a man-made “perfect human” called simply “Him” all the way through his first death (more on this in a minute) and up to his adventures following his defeat of Thanos. About that first death… Adam Warlock has a bit of a God-complex. So much so that in order to save the people of “counter earth” he allowed himself to be crucified. By the power of the Soul Gems (one of the baubles on the Infinity Gauntlet- see how this all ties in?) he rose himself from the dead and a cult religion would later rise up to worship him (and try to take over the universe, but that’s another story).

In my comic reading peak in the 90’s, I loved to read both Warlock and the Silver Surfer. They complemented each other perfectly. Though the silver sentinel was conceived as a Christ-like cosmic figure when he was introduced in the 60’s, he is written in more of a philosophical tone. Warlock, on the other hand, because of his background is written as much more theological. So when paired together to take on some cosmic foe, this often led to very deep and worthwhile conversations.

Now I am anxiously anticipating how this may be handled on the silver screen, especially after (in my opinion) the Silver Surfer wasn’t given his full due in the Fantastic Four movie. And all the bluster about Loki pontificating about the weakness of humanity and the slavery of freedom, coupled with the writer’s open atheism, led some to denounce ‘The Avengers’ as anti-Christian and secular. So is it possible that the movies would dare take on a character whose main story arc involves being crucified, buried, and risen from the dead? If the Avengers have any hope of defeating Thanos, we better hope so.

Loss

Frank

The holidays are hard enough without having to deal with recent loss or the reminder of loved ones lost long ago. My mom lives in a retirement community and one of her friends was celebrating his first Christmas without his wife of many years. If that wasn’t bad enough, he received Christmas card after Christmas card addressed to both he and his wife. My father passed away 14 years ago and we’d receive letters addressed to him for quite a few years after his death. Each one reopening a wound.

Others suffer the double-wound of losing someone around the holidays, making a harsh reminder every year. I know some who have given up celebrating holidays or birthdays on account of such loss. It is a painful reminder every year of fond memories that can never again be relived and of our own mortality.

Chances are, you’ve lost someone dear to you this past year. If not, you certainly know someone else who has. Either way, it is also likely that the holidays remind you of loved ones lost years ago. For me, Christmas the first couple of years we had children were hard because I wished my dad and my grandma could have been around to celebrate with us. Each year I remember on Christmas 15 or 16 years ago when a close friend of the family brought his newborn daughter, Erin, over to my grandma’s to show her off. I remember my dad being playful in a way I hadn’t seen since I was young as she sat on his lap. I always wished to share the same experience with my own kids, but that was not meant to be. I lost him in September, right before his birthday. No significant holiday reminder of his death, yet the changing season and the turning of the leaves every year reminds me of his passing.

Specific to the holidays, not a Thanksgiving goes by that I don’t remember Jenny. She was a couple of years older than me and her little brother was a year behind me in school. But we lived in a small town, so everyone knew everyone else. An annual “tradition”after many of us went off to college would be to gather the Friday after Thanksgiving at one of the local bars to catch up with old friends from school. We’d all gather and figure out where to head next for some big party- either at someone’s house, or at one of the many popular hangouts outdoors (I grew up in an agriculture community, so many families had plenty of land on which to find a spot for a party). Cell phones were just beginning to get broad use, so that sped up the process as the time spent at the bar was shared with time on the phone coordinating plans.

That particular year we started at the usual spot and when no one showed, we moved on to another bar. One of my friends was constantly on his cell trying to find where everyone was headed. After a few drinks and a couple of rounds of pool, his phone started to ring. “Have you seen Jenny?” “Do you know where Jenny is?” “We haven’t seen her for over an hour.” With each subsequent call, the mood shifted away from celebration towards concern. Turns out the popular place to party that night was at a dock by the river. She was there. She wandered off. She disappeared. Her body washed up a couple of days later.

I didn’t stick around town to find out the toxicology report. But I recall that she struggled with depression and substance abuse. But most couldn’t understand. She graduated top of her class. She was popular and beautiful. But there was something missing. No one knows if it was an accident or suicide, but now every year her family is reminded of her death with every turkey carved. Even though not being particularly close to her, ask myself every Thanksgiving “where’s Jenny”.

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, concerning those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” 1 Thessalonians 4:13

Infinite Sadness

Frank

It was an afternoon like any other, killing time at my family’s store by turning anything I could get my hands on into some kind of toy. Grandpa hadn’t yet come back after his daily afternoon nap and Grandma asked if I wanted to go home with her to check on him. Go to Grandma’s house? She didn’t have to ask me twice. Walking up the steps, I unlocked the door helping my grandma with arms full of groceries. I opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. The groceries dropped and my grandma rushed me back down the steps. But I still saw. My grandfather lay lifeless on the kitchen floor.

I was babysat by friends of the family for what seemed like hours (we were watching a PBS documentary on bats; not exactly my idea of a good time) which gave me ample time to reflect on life, death, and the afterlife. At nine years old, it was somewhat comprehensible. I understood heaven, kinda understood hell, and didn’t for the life of me understand purgatory (and still don’t). I rationalized the eternal consequence of what just happened, but did not feel anything about what that meant for those of us still living in this life. Perplexed, with wheels always turning, I wondered what this life really meant.

I thought a lot about it, but didn’t feel anything. At least not until a few days later, when after the funeral I found my sister engulfed in tears sitting at a typewriter at our grandparent’s house. On the page were written all of her feelings; a last goodbye from his little princess. Then, and only then, was I able to understand sadness.

As the years passed, I suffered more loss. My favorite uncle passed away while I was in the eighth grade, countless friends of the family passed away over the years, and I lost my father right as my junior year in college began. Because of this, I thought I understood death and understood sadness.

When I became a disciple of Jesus four years after my father died, eternal life took on more significant a meaning than paintings of angels sitting on clouds in heaven. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55) So when I next faced death,I thought my faith was mature enough to handle it. Or so I thought, I still didn’t know how to feel. My wife lost her foster mom, whom she loved dearly despite only living with her for two years. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know how to help, I was paralyzed by this unfamiliar feeling-sadness. Sure I was sad when my dad passed away, but I drowned that out. I had nowhere to run from these feelings. There was no bottle to crawl into. And so I cried. Right around the same time I watched Big Fish and could not stop crying. For hours. This new feeling opened up a wellspring that I has not yet run dry. I now cry at just about anything, most notoriously while watching Finding Nemo.

Now Glynn Young reminded me that “Jesus wept” (John 11:35), and that it’s ok for men to cry. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t like this feeling and so I avoid it as much as I can.

I was avoiding it a couple of weeks ago while my wife’s grandmother suffered a stroke at 102 years of age. Following the stroke, she couldn’t talk, which meant she couldn’t eat. If she couldn’t eat, that meant she was going to die. She had a living will which stated she didn’t want any kind of support, including a feeding tube. So we prepared for the inevitable. She was sharp as a knife in her mind, but she couldn’t communicate. We had to assume she was preparing for the inevitable as well. Watching her, still in her bed biding time, I was consumed with sadness. I wasn’t sad about the inevitable loss of her life, she was 102 after all. But I could not help but to think about what must have been going through her mind. She knew she was about to die and couldn’t do a thing about it. Again, that sadness paralyzed me.

Recently, my wife and I watched the Time Traveler’s Wife. Again, I felt this “melancholy and infinite sadness” as I related to Eric Bana’s character towards the end. (kinda spoiler alert if you haven’t seen it) Because he could travel through time, he knew when he was going to die. How would he have felt? What was he thinking? I was just as torn watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. (another spoiler if you haven’t seen it) Here, Brad Pitt’s character had “aged” to infancy with a completely mature mind to comprehend what was happening. The waterworks started flowing as this baby gripped the love of his life’s finger as he passed away.

I don’t like death. As a Christian, I should embrace it, glory in Christ’s resurrection. But I don’t. I cannot get over the sadness that comes with it. I can’t help but think about the inevitable end to our mortality and the loved ones left behind. To be honest, I don’t want to die. In high school, an exercise in my psychology class asked each of us to list one thing we were afraid of. My answer was death. Twenty years later, I wouldn’t change that answer.

Jesus presents quite the paradox. Facing the knowledge of his own death, he wept in the Garden. He struggled with it so much, he escaped to pray about it three times. Yet he surrendered to his Father’s will and willingly marched towards the Cross. Just a short time before, the brother of a couple of his best friends died and there we read the shortest verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” Why? He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, he knew the lifeless body before him was not going to remain that way. Was he moved by compassion towards his friends? Was he gripped with the knowledge of his own death? While he could discern what was in the hearts of his disciples and foresaw Judas’ betrayal, could it be that he didn’t know how his own story was going to play out? Surely he knew death held no power. He saw the glories of heaven first-hand and witnessed the countless number of lives who waited in “Abraham’s bosom”. Yet he still cried.

While I don’t understand it, I’m going to take Jesus’ example as permission to feel sadness with respect to death. Yes, I believe in the resurrection. Yes, I believe we should rejoice when a loved one gets to enter into God’s heavenly Kingdom. But I will still feel sadness. I will still cry. So the next time you see me at a movie bawling my eyes out, don’t be surprised.

Infinite Sadness

Frank

It was an afternoon like any other, killing time at my family’s store by turning anything I could get my hands on into some kind of toy. Grandpa hadn’t yet come back after his daily afternoon nap and Grandma asked if I wanted to go home with her to check on him. Go to Grandma’s house? She didn’t have to ask me twice. Walking up the steps, I unlocked the door helping my grandma with arms full of groceries. I opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. The groceries dropped and my grandma rushed me back down the steps. But I still saw. My grandfather lay lifeless on the kitchen floor.

I was babysat by friends of the family for what seemed like hours (we were watching a PBS documentary on bats; not exactly my idea of a good time) which gave me ample time to reflect on life, death, and the afterlife. At nine years old, it was somewhat comprehensible. I understood heaven, kinda understood hell, and didn’t for the life of me understand purgatory (and still don’t). I rationalized the eternal consequence of what just happened, but did not feel anything about what that meant for those of us still living in this life. Perplexed, with wheels always turning, I wondered what this life really meant.

I thought a lot about it, but didn’t feel anything. At least not until a few days later, when after the funeral I found my sister engulfed in tears sitting at a typewriter at our grandparent’s house. On the page were written all of her feelings; a last goodbye from his little princess. Then, and only then, was I able to understand sadness.

As the years passed, I suffered more loss. My favorite uncle passed away while I was in the eighth grade, countless friends of the family passed away over the years, and I lost my father right as my junior year in college began. Because of this, I thought I understood death and understood sadness.

When I became a disciple of Jesus four years after my father died, eternal life took on more significant a meaning than paintings of angels sitting on clouds in heaven. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55) So when I next faced death,I thought my faith was mature enough to handle it. Or so I thought, I still didn’t know how to feel. My wife lost her foster mom, whom she loved dearly despite only living with her for two years. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know how to help, I was paralyzed by this unfamiliar feeling-sadness. Sure I was sad when my dad passed away, but I drowned that out. I had nowhere to run from these feelings. There was no bottle to crawl into. And so I cried. Right around the same time I watched Big Fish and could not stop crying. For hours. This new feeling opened up a wellspring that I has not yet run dry. I now cry at just about anything, most notoriously while watching Finding Nemo.

Now Glynn Young reminded me that “Jesus wept” (John 11:35), and that it’s ok for men to cry. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t like this feeling and so I avoid it as much as I can.

I was avoiding it a couple of weeks ago while my wife’s grandmother suffered a stroke at 102 years of age. Following the stroke, she couldn’t talk, which meant she couldn’t eat. If she couldn’t eat, that meant she was going to die. She had a living will which stated she didn’t want any kind of support, including a feeding tube. So we prepared for the inevitable. She was sharp as a knife in her mind, but she couldn’t communicate. We had to assume she was preparing for the inevitable as well. Watching her, still in her bed biding time, I was consumed with sadness. I wasn’t sad about the inevitable loss of her life, she was 102 after all. But I could not help but to think about what must have been going through her mind. She knew she was about to die and couldn’t do a thing about it. Again, that sadness paralyzed me.

Recently, my wife and I watched the Time Traveler’s Wife. Again, I felt this “melancholy and infinite sadness” as I related to Eric Bana’s character towards the end. (kinda spoiler alert if you haven’t seen it) Because he could travel through time, he knew when he was going to die. How would he have felt? What was he thinking? I was just as torn watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. (another spoiler if you haven’t seen it) Here, Brad Pitt’s character had “aged” to infancy with a completely mature mind to comprehend what was happening. The waterworks started flowing as this baby gripped the love of his life’s finger as he passed away.

I don’t like death. As a Christian, I should embrace it, glory in Christ’s resurrection. But I don’t. I cannot get over the sadness that comes with it. I can’t help but think about the inevitable end to our mortality and the loved ones left behind. To be honest, I don’t want to die. In high school, an exercise in my psychology class asked each of us to list one thing we were afraid of. My answer was death. Twenty years later, I wouldn’t change that answer.

Jesus presents quite the paradox. Facing the knowledge of his own death, he wept in the Garden. He struggled with it so much, he escaped to pray about it three times. Yet he surrendered to his Father’s will and willingly marched towards the Cross. Just a short time before, the brother of a couple of his best friends died and there we read the shortest verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” Why? He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, he knew the lifeless body before him was not going to remain that way. Was he moved by compassion towards his friends? Was he gripped with the knowledge of his own death? While he could discern what was in the hearts of his disciples and foresaw Judas’ betrayal, could it be that he didn’t know how his own story was going to play out? Surely he knew death held no power. He saw the glories of heaven first-hand and witnessed the countless number of lives who waited in “Abraham’s bosom”. Yet he still cried.

While I don’t understand it, I’m going to take Jesus’ example as permission to feel sadness with respect to death. Yes, I believe in the resurrection. Yes, I believe we should rejoice when a loved one gets to enter into God’s heavenly Kingdom. But I will still feel sadness. I will still cry. So the next time you see me at a movie bawling my eyes out, don’t be surprised.