On Viewing Life From Good Friday

 


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Readers of this blog know that I write from a perspective of faith. It's how I attempt to make sense of life. But I'm sensitive to the realty that this may not be how you do it. In fact, it may be a turn-off. Christianity has taken a beating lately what with John Ashcroft, Jerry Falwell and Tom DeLay as its most visible public representatives.

It's been used to sanction war, greed and nationalism. The Jesus who threw the money changers out of the temple, championed the poor, healed the sick and told the rich man it would be easier for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle than for him to get to heaven, has been turned into a pale, polite, middle class image of shopping mall capitalism.

It is Good Friday, a day when Christians pray and reflect quietly on life's meaning in the face of Jesus' death, anticipating hope for life beyond death. It precedes Easter, the holiest and most celebratory of all Christian sacred days when we claim the promise that life is more than we know in our physical experience. And I've been thinking about these things today.


It's been a rough time for me the past few days. The memories invoked by the Terri Schiavo spectacle have cut deeply. I've thought about this intensely, prayed about it, tried to put it in perspective.

Four years ago this July, my spouse, our daughters and I, sat for three excruciatingly painful weeks at the bedside of our dying son and brother. It was an experience I would not wish for anyone to endure.

To be clear, our circumstances were different from Ms. Schiavo's. Matt had prepared an advanced directive. We followed his wishes.

His condition was different from Ms. Schiavo's, but the decision to not intervene with extraordinary measures is the same emotionally devastating decision, regardless of the unique circumstances. When Tom DeLay said that withholding a feeding tube was a barbaric act, it was as if someone put a branding iron to my heart. It was searingly insensitive and cruel.

I know that as I write this, parents, husbands, wives and children are sitting in a hospice, or a hospital room, waiting as we did for a loved one to reach life's end.

And they are aware of the public debate that is raging, hearing the inflammatory rhetoric and perhaps questioning their own decisions. They will look deeply at their motivations, painfully evaluate negative characterizations about this most sacred human experience and struggle with difficult decisions they must make about life support and palliative care. The kindest, most loving thing they can do may be to allow their loved one to die naturally without intervening, but DeLay has framed this as a barbaric act.

They deserve better. They deserve support, compassion, affirmation and sensitive listening. They wait in agony, grasping to understand circumstances that none of us are prepared for, trying to make a loving decision under extraordinarily difficult conditions.

They face stress now and they will face it later. Bereavement following the loss of a child can lead to mental illness, disintegration of marriages, depression and abuse of alcohol and other drugs, according to a study conducted by the Danish Epidemiology Science Center and appearing in The New England Journal of Medicine.

But they are not receiving compassion from our national leaders and their pandering preachers. They're hearing words tossed about such as starvation, barbarism, euthanasia and assisted suicide. This is more than disgusting, it's shameful.

No loving parent wants to watch a child die. It's not how life is supposed to be. But rail as we might against the injustice of it all, it happens. And there's no way out of it but through it.

For me, it was the most painful, yet sacred experience I've ever been through; and also the most confusing. I experienced a jumble of emotions so deep that they went to the core of my soul. It was heartbreaking and spiritually elevating at the same time. I never felt more alone, nor more connected to and loved by those around me.

I became afraid of the dark, and yet I felt as close to the presence of a loving God as I've ever been. I read the scriptures and they came alive in a way I'd never experienced before.

I've not written publicly about this because it's been too painful and too private. But I write today after prayerfully reflecting upon the trauma inflicted by the political spectacle surrounding Terri Schiavo. It's been hurtful in more ways than the politicians will ever understand. Their shamelessness intervention and the clergy who have given them theological cover is breath-taking for its insensitivity and lack of compassion.

Let's be clear that they did not have to step into this broken family's dispute. They made extraordinary effort to create this trashy spectacle, betraying their own claims about respect for the sanctity of life and the dignity of all persons. And the clergy could have spoken of the need to offer pastoral care and counseling to the family, of the fullness of life under God and the great moral challenges that we face in circumstances such as this. But that is not the path either group chose.

We need serious discussion about end of life care, genetic therapy, medical research and access to health care. If we did have this conversation, we would talk seriously about what makes for a life of quality. And we would discuss the insight contained in the sacred writings and holy scriptures of the world's religions.

We would talk about our responsibility to care adequately for citizens with disabilities and ensure their rights. We would talk about preventive care and guidelines for end of life intervention. We would talk about adequate funding for all of us to have access to health care. And we would talk about an holistic life, a life imbued with the sacred; life as body, spirit and soul.

We might come to understand that there are worse things than death, a point made by Rubel Shelly, a doctor of philosophy at Vanderbilt University. Shelly has written the most cogent and compassionate words I've seen on this issue in an op-ed piece that appeared in The Tennessean, Nashville's daily newspaper, on March 23.

















For example, if an individual cannot bear to exist in a conscious state because of excruciating pain is that a life of quality? If a person near the end of life stops eating, should we force nourishment through a feeding tube? If a person with a degenerative condition cannot communicate, recognize loved ones, display cognitive functions, think, is a that a life of quality?

But we don't have the kind of moral leadership today at the national level that can help us to conduct this important conversation. Even the Vatican let us down on this one. An editorial in L'Osservatore Romano asks, "Who can judge the dignity and sacredness of the life of a human being made in the image and likeness of God? Who can decide to pull the plug as if we were talking about a broken or out-of-order household appliance?"

Well, unfortunately, like it or not, someone is confronted with this dilemma everyday. And framing the question like this does not help them resolve their dilemma, it denigrates their profoundly moral considerations. It may even lead them to prolong life that does not "reflect the sacredness of a human being made in the image and likeness of God."

So, on this Good Friday, I'm praying for the Schindlers, Michael Schiavo, and, of course, for Terri Schiavo. I'm also praying for those sitting at the bedside of a loved one struggling with painful, weighty decisions. And I say to you, in all humility, that as crushing as it seems right now, you can get through.

I hope you are inclined to believe that God is with you, cares about you and embraces you. And I hope you find support from clergy and friends, and comfort in scripture.

And, I'm praying that leadership will arise in this nation that can help us recover compassion and enter into dialogue that leads us to a more just and caring society.

And finally, to those who read this and conclude that I am less than charitable toward the politicians and clergy who have been most vocal in this spectacle, I hope you understand that how they have framed this issue is deeply offensive, insulting and denigrating to me.

My experience with my son was not barbaric, it was sacred, and for me to remain silent as these people trash it with intemperate language and political grandstanding seems a betrayal of my son and the awe-filled experience we shared together as a family at his passing.

And I will pray for my own ability to find compassion in my heart for those with whom I disagree so strongly. I will ask God for the ability to respect them even as I vociferously reject their actions.

And I will look hopefully to the sunrise of Easter morning for the renewing presence of a loving God who calls us to heal the wounded, comfort the afflicted, bring wholeness to broken and to live a life imbued with sacred value.
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Posted: Thursday - March 24, 2005 at 01:53 PM, In Category: |


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