He went out and gathered her family. He told them that each of them could go in for five or ten minutes. They were to go in and talk to her, tell her how much they loved her and to tell her what she meant to them. They were not to cry or burden her. They could cry afterward, but now they were to concentrate completely on making her journey easy. Each one of them went in and talked to her, consoled her, and blessed her. Each of them came out shattered, but they had brought her the gifts of acknowledgment, recognition, and love, beautiful gifts to help her on her journey. She herself was wonderful. Then he went to her and anointed her with the holy oil, and we all said the prayers together. Smiling and serene, she went absolutely happily and beautifully on the journey that she had to make alone. It was a great privilege for me to be there. For the first time my own fear of death was transfigured. It showed me that if you live in this world with kindness, if you do not add to other people’s burdens, but if you try to serve love, when the time comes for you to make the journey, you will receive a serenity, peace, and a welcoming freedom that will enable you to go to the other world with great elegance, grace, and acceptance.
It is an incredible privilege to be with someone who is making this journey into the eternal world. When you are present at the sacrament of someone’s death, you should be very mindful of their situation. In other words, you should not concentrate so much on your own grief. You should rather strive to be fully present to, with, and for the person who is going on the journey. Everything should be done to completely facilitate the dying person, and to make the transition as easy and as comfortable as possible.
I love the Irish tradition of the wake. Its ritual affords the soul plenty of time to take its leave. The soul does not leave the body abruptly; this is a slow leave-taking. You will notice how the body changes in its first stages of death. The person does not really leave life for a while. It is very important not to leave the dead person on his own. Funeral homes are cold, clinical places. If at all possible, when the person dies, they should be left in their familiar surroundings so that they can make this deeper transition in a comfortable, easy, and secure way. The first few weeks after a person dies, that person’s soul and memory should be minded and protected. One should say many prayers for the deceased to help the person make the journey home. Death is a threshold into the unknown, and everyone needs much shelter as they go on that journey.
Death is pushed to the margins in modern life. There is much drama about the funeral, but this often remains external and superficial. Our consumerist society has lost the sense of ritual and wisdom necessary to acknowledge this rite of passage. The person who has entered the voyage of death needs more in-depth care.
THE DEAD ARE OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
The dead are not far away; they are very, very near us. Each one of us someday will have to face our own appointment with death. I like to think of this as an encounter with your deepest nature and most hidden self. It is a journey toward a new horizon. As a child, when I looked up at the mountain near my village, I used to dream of the day when I would be old enough to go with my uncle up to the top of the mountain. I thought that I would be able to see the whole world on the horizon. I remember that I was very excited when the day finally came. My uncle was bringing sheep over the mountain, and he told me that I could come with him. As we climbed up the mountain and came to where I thought the horizon would be, it had disappeared. Not only was I not able to see everything when I got there, but another horizon was waiting, farther on. I was disappointed but also excited in an unfamiliar way. Each new level revealed a new world. Hans Georg Gadamer, a wonderful German philosopher, has a lovely phrase: “A horizon is something toward which we journey, but it is also something that journeys along with us.” This is an illuminating metaphor for understanding the different horizons of your own growth. If you are striving to be equal to your destiny and worthy of the possibilities that sleep in the clay of your heart, then you should be regularly reaching new horizons. Against this perspective, death can be understood as the final horizon. Beyond there, the deepest well of your identity awaits you. In that well, you will behold the beauty and light of your eternal face.
THE EGO AND THE SOUL
