Meditating On Death Is Critical To A Good Life

Using Fr Jacques Harmel's martyrdom in odium fidei at the hands of a Muslim, Mr Chalk reminds us that meditation on death is part of a good life.

From Crisis

By Casey Chalk

Dying a heroic death is strongly correlated to living a heroic life.

This year marks the ten-year anniversary of the martyrdom of Jacques Hamel, the 85-year-old French priest who was brutally murdered on July 26, 2016, by two Muslim men inspired by the terrorist group the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, otherwise known as ISIS or ISIL. During the Prayers of Petition, the two men, wielding knives and a handgun, entered the 16th-century church of Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray in Normandy and took Fr. Hamel and five others hostage. Forced to his knees, Fr. Hamel resisted, pushing the attackers away with his feet and declaring: “Va-t’en, Satan!” (“Go away, Satan”). In response, one of them screamed in Arabic, “Allahu akbar” (“God is great”) and slit Fr. Hamel’s throat.

No Christian, one hopes, would argue that Fr. Hamel did not die well. Not only did he die a martyr for the Catholic Faith, murdered by Muslim extremists; he courageously resisted and labeled their diabolic deeds what they truly are: satanic. The Jesuit magazine America celebrated him as “Europe’s first 21st-century martyr,” while Pope Francis, in a September 2016 morning meditation, described him as “part of this chain of martyrs,” a “good, meek man of brotherhood.” Yet in the aftermath of his death, journalists and biographers discovered that Fr. Hamel had also lived a good life, one of quiet, humble service, exemplifying a servant’s heart. 

Though it’s not always the case, it does seem that those who live a good life, one of heroic virtue, usually experience a good death as well. “That man lives badly who does not know how to die well,” asserted the ancient Roman philosopher Seneca. And, of course, no one exemplifies that truth better than Jesus of Nazareth, who “committed no sin; no guile was found on his lips,” and in whom “all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell” (1 Peter 2:22; Colossians 1:19). And who else suffered a more perfect death, one that not only exemplified incredible heroism and was suffused with spiritual meaning but that also won our salvation? 

This is precisely what many of the most brilliant minds of the Church have taught over the centuries about the Seven Last Words. St. Bonaventure wrote that Jesus’ last words are a “summa of [Jesus’] doctrine and discipline, revealing His perfect and pure reverence and adoration of the unseen Father.” Medieval Benedictine monk Arnold of Bonneval similarly taught that Jesus “recapitulated the whole essence of His teaching, saying with great succinctness things He had expounded at much greater length during His preaching. Thus it is that the last words of Christ offer a mystical compendium of the entire Gospel.” And St. Robert Bellarmine speaks of the “pulpit of the cross,” where Jesus preached His most important sermon.

When we think about the Seven Last Words, they often seem like theological puzzles to solve. What did Jesus mean by saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When He says, “It is finished,” what exactly is He talking about? Such questions, of course, require answers, and there is a wealth of convincing and inspiring explanations offered by a panoply of Saints and theologians across the history of the Church. But there is another approach to interpreting Jesus’ final statements from the Cross, one with an ancient pedigree: to study the Seven Last Words as insights into the good life, into how to be holy and righteous.

For example, the first Last Word—“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34)—certainly communicates to us that Jesus is willing to forgive not only His persecutors but all of us. (Moreover, for those of us who struggle with scrupulosity and self-hatred, if Jesus is willing to forgive the people who unjustly and hatefully murdered Him, think how happy and willing He is to forgive us for whatever we’ve done.) But Jesus’ forgiveness is also a lesson and exhortation to us: if we want to be followers of Christ, we must learn to forgive—even those who have most deeply wounded us (Matthew 6:15). This is as much a spiritual reality as it is a psychological and emotional one—studies show that those who regularly practice the act of forgiveness, even toward those who haven’t asked for it, not only enjoy deeper peace but experience all manner of health benefits. 

Similarly, when Jesus says to the repentant thief on the cross, “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise,” there is of course the immediate, incredible teaching that Jesus is able to forgive and save those who repent, even as they die after a life of sin. His words are also a lesson about how much of Himself Jesus is willing to offer for the sake of His kingdom: even on the Cross, as He suffers, He is lovingly giving Himself for others. His is a life of pure, unadulterated self-gift, exemplified by His willingness to utter words to a repentant criminal while He Himself is in excruciating pain. Thus should ours be, as well. 

Few people today spend much time thinking about their death. We consider it morbid and bizarre. There is an entire billion-dollar industry, growing by the year, devoted to maximizing our health in the hope that we might extend our life, even if only for a few more years. This is vain foolishness—death and taxes, as Ben Franklin noted, are more certain than most anything. The better “life hack,” counterintuitively, is actually to reflect more on what we desire for our death, as Catholic neurosurgeon Stephen E. Doran argues in his great recent book To Die Well. Will we be able to confidently say we achieved a true good life and willingly accept death? Or will we be filled with fear, bitterness, and remorse over bad decisions, missed opportunities?

The Seven Last Words encapsulate what constitutes a perfect death, as Saints and Doctors of the Church have observed over the centuries—and as many Saints have shown through their heroic desire to emulate Jesus, as demonstrated in Antonio Maria Sicari’s recent How Saints Die). Yet, amazingly, the Seven Last Words are even more than this—they are Jesus’ final sermon, preaching to us the themes that we must exemplify in our lives if we are to follow Him. Following our Savior in His death not only helps us to die well but to live well, too, as exemplified by the inspiring witness of martyrs such as Fr. Jacques Hamel.