Christian spirituality: Reflections on life and death

“I have no reason to live”… The words hit my ears and immediately I noticed how easy it would be to dismiss them; to build a wall around myself to be shielded from the suffering they implied. Even if I am no professional therapist, counsellor or psychologist, I looked in the person’s eyes and made an effort to stay with the person, to let some of the suffering enter my soul. I heard myself reply: “You do have a reason to live: your very life is the reason.”

Another conversation, this time with an intimate friend, flashed before my eyes. “I am ready to die…” She had been recently diagnosed with a terminal illness, and these last days were the culmination of her life. I felt my friend’s peace as she accepted her fate. She added with characteristic insight: “But I don’t want to suffer unnecessary physical pain. Accepting the inevitability of death was purgative enough.”

A third encounter was just as illuminating. No real words were exchanged: just a glance that chilled my spine, and I felt possessed by fear. What sort of desolation is this? As I was supported to process the experience, I discovered an anguish that words could not express. This felt like death, but when the person seemed very much alive.

Three deeply human realities where life and death intertwine, and only something deeper can discern and name the crucial differences.

As we go through life inevitably intermingling with death, it is paramount to keep our eyes open: what ‘life’ in me feels the encroachment of which ‘death’?

My friend passed away a few days ago, but her death, while tragic, truly opened to new life. All who have had the grace to accompany the dying can bear witness to how, in the very end, our souls are truly revealed, as a life-well-lived fills the space with a lingering quality of peace, of joy, of heaven. My friend will rest in eternal life, even if death cut her life too short.

The person who crossed my path feeling the weight of life’s struggles is still bearing the suffering a day at a time. Life is never a bed of roses, and all of us go through moments when we seem to lose hope.

Still, reaching out with an openness to connect is a sign of true life. Professional help is necessary, but even accompanying one another is testament to the hope that darkness can birth new life.

The effects of encounters like the third, however, are just as real and potentially devastating. Metaphorical death breeds the kind of despair that only unyielding love can bear.

Humanly speaking, we collapse when confronted with the ice of indifference that protects against unbearable terror. Humanly speaking, that is when only grace – a metaphysical power of love and life – can enliven us anew.

As we go through life inevitably intermingling with death, it is paramount to keep our eyes open: what “life” in me feels the encroachment of which “death”? Is it my mortal flesh – while my soul gains strength? Is it the fragile interim space of my mental health, where a loss of vitality makes me ponder a lie that I am not worth it? Or is it a deadness in the soul that perpetuates strife, exhaustion, deceptiveness? “You will know them by their fruits” (Mt 7:16) and thus judge the kind of love response required.

Nadia Delicata is episcopal delegate for evangelisation of the Malta archdiocese.

nadia.delicata@maltadiocese.org