Regarding death

Bryan Butler

Slowly the three ships left the harbour. The wind filled the canvas sails, and the masts and rigging groaned in response. Columbus was heading towards the western horizon.

I imagine at least three groups of people stood on the quay watching as the last tip of sail sank beyond the thin, mysterious line of the horizon. One group was confident and cynical. They knew they had seen the last of this crazy young man. If he chose to sail to the edge of the world and drop off into horrific infinity, that was his problem. They had warned him.

The second group was likely quieter. They were apprehensive. Surely the observations of Columbus and company were valid. But could they be absolutely sure? They stood, long after the rest had left, watching, hoping and praying.

The third group was the smallest of all. Probably they left the soonest. If anything, they looked east. With confidence, they began to prepare for Colombus's return—from around the world.

This confidence in our horizons is what the church teaches about death. Unfortunately, too often death is viewed as a journey beyond the edge, a step into an endless void of black nothingness. No wonder it is a frightening prospect, and no wonder funerals are dreaded events.

But the Christian faith says that death is simply a horizon. As we take that step, we disappear beyond the sight of those watching, but we haven't ceased to exist. Life continues. How, where or in what form we can't exactly say, except for those few glimmers that Christ, the One who came back through the horizon, left for us. Nevertheless, the church celebrates death as an adventure, the next logical step to be taken. It relies on the words of Jesus Christ that there is no final edge.

If, in fact, life does continue beyond the grave and things are better there, then how do we approach death—our death and the death of those around us? We have a choice. We can face the horizon of death confident that a hand, scarred with nails, is reaching through the haze of that mysterious line to guide us, even carry us, out of sight of the watching crowds. We can also approach it facing backwards, frantically clinging and clutching to those we can see, to the familiar, to the present pain. We need to recognize that our perception too often tends more to the "flat earth" idea of death than to the "round earth" concept of faith.

Death for Christians is a celebration, the entrance into a reality which is greater and more bountiful than the one we experience now. It is a celebration of resurrection and of the work of Christ. Our funeral services should celebrate the confidence that we have in Christ. We may recognize the pain of saying goodbye to friends and family, but we are also able to realize that they haven't disappeared forever, only gone ahead with Jesus.

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