feel the burn

The conversations taking place in my head--and occasionally with others--about relationships after death have stirred up some interesting food for thought. I have come to terms, for instance, with the reality that the unresolved tensions in the friendship about which I wrote earlier are fully mine to address. The hurt stemming from a lack of reconciliation before her death arises from questions that can't be answered. Having acknowledged aloud the depth of my hurt, the very act of saying those words has released the pain and healing is underway (thanks, Mom) .There will always be a lingering sadness, I think, that misunderstanding clouded the relationship, but such is life. We carry on.

While contemplating the questions of what becomes of us after death, I had a fresh revelation about a different version of purgatory. The RC doctrine is heavy on punishment. From my view, punishment is unnecessary and fails to reflect a compassionate God. Rather, standing in the face of eternal truth, the process of aligning ourselves with that truth causes a kind of anguish and spiritual pain. Whether you want to call it sin, errors in judgment, actions of malice, or whatever, being stripped of the things that interfered with being and living a life grounded in wholeness and love for which we have not made some effort to atone, is painful. It is the ultimate refiners fire. And again, not literal fire, but the kind of inner pain that comes with transformation. I'm thinking of the moth or butterfly that emerges from the chrysalis, for instance. Spiritual beauty doesn't come without sacrifice.

Maybe the step that takes us from a lifeless body to whatever comes next is really as simple as going into the light, being taken into the arms of Jesus, the bosom of God or the choir of angels. I don't know. But the questions that rise up like the smoke of incense capture our attention and warrant reflection. I don't dwell on these, but for what it's worth the process of turning over in my heart and mind the pain of brokenness has served up a feast for consideration.

Whatever awaits me when that time comes, it is up to me to live a life now that is loving, supportive, giving, and radiates the love and peace that I feel comes from God. However I am able to do that, by whatever means, I seek to do. I fail miserably so often, but each day offers an opportunity to start again, to set my sights afresh on the possibilities and blessings that await, and to be thankful for the opportunity to give it the old college try.

what can happen when you walk and wonder

I was walking yesterday on the track at the gym (the track is so. Boring. Must recharge my iPod!), and as so often happens when the brain lacks stimulation from its surroundings, it finds its own, inner track for entertainment.

A sequence of thoughts led me to ponder the nature of relationships after death (just a little light thinking…) A particular, personal situation began to spin some thoughts. A loved one died believing something to be true that wasn’t true. That belief interfered with the living relationship. In death, will the truth be discovered? Will the heart that clung to an untruth be released from whatever pain caused it to cling in the first place? Will there ever be a way that I might know of that’s heart’s transformation and release from pain?

It is not uncommon for some of us to be in a state of difficulty with another person at the time of their death. We know that in many circumstances in order for the person still living to experience peace and/or reconciliation with the deceased, it is the living person who does the “work” toward resolution, forgiveness, and letting go to reach the point of apprehending that peace. But what happens when the work that needs to be done lies with the one who has died? Is it possible for the one who has passed on to resolve and reconcile the issues at hand?

According to the catechism of the Episcopal Church we pray for the dead, trusting “that in God’s presence those who have chosen to serve him will grow in his love, until they see him as he is.” Forgive me, but that sounds a bit mamby-pamby. Overlooking for the moment the exclusive body referred to as those “who have chosen to serve him,” why do the prayers of the living assist that journey? It strikes me as an even exchange that the praying can be picked up by those “on the other side,” who have more familiarity with the after-death landscape when it comes to growing in love. And it is all well and good that growing in love will bring us to seeing God as he is, but in my view, once I’m gone that journey is beyond the sights of those still on the earthly plane.

My thoughts with this went all over creation, if you’ll forgive the use of that phrase, and I could write for pages more on the subject of “what happens to us after we die.” For now I’m interested to hear what you think about this (as referred to above) aspect of what transpires. Would you mind sharing your thoughts?

Much obliged.