Shortly before Christmas, some friends and I went to see the Broadway musical, Beetlejuice. Admittedly, it’s not exactly the type of musical to get a person in the Christmas spirit. Nonetheless, my three friends and I gathered with several hundred other theatergoers in the Winter Garden Theater to watch an adaptation of the popular Tim Burton film.
As the curtain rose, Lydia Deetz was mourning the death of her mother. Clearly others are moving on, but she hasn’t. Lydia’s mournful refrain is interrupted with a jolt by the irreverent demon from hell Betelgeuse (aka Beetlejuice). With song and dance in full Broadway glory, he reminded the audience of their mortality.
Nothing says Merry Christmas like hearing “You’re all gonna die!”
Although it’s not something we want to think about, death is inevitable. It’s been said, “There’s only two things certain in life: death and taxes.”
Sometimes I’m amazed at how surprised people are about death. There are occasional moments that are injected into our collective national conscience that remind us of our impermanence. Not long ago, Kobe Bryant and his daughter tragically died in a helicopter crash leaving many in disbelief and shock. Many who live in my neighborhood in the South Bronx were deeply impacted by this news. Although my neighbors are often reminded through tragedy of the fragility of life, unexpected death always seems to hit deep. However, even when a person’s death is expected, due to chronic illness or old age, I’m often surprised by the melodramatic response.
As a pastor, I can’t always relate.
Some might think this is callousness or a lack of empathy, but instead it’s rooted in my concrete hope of heaven. I look forward to the day when my eyes close on this shadow of a life and open to the real life to come. In the meantime, as followers of Christ, our mindset should be the same as Paul’s: “to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).
However, death does present opportunities for ministry.
Often at memorial services the quip noted above about death and taxes leads me to ask:
“If death is certain, why are people so uncertain about the only certain thing?”
It wasn’t long ago that I shared this at a funeral for a gentleman from our neighborhood; much of his life he had struggled with alcoholism and addiction. For context, it’s worth stating what might not be obvious to the reader, but obvious to everyone in that room. I was the only white guy there. Everyone else was either Hispanic or African-American. My invitation to minister, and frankly my comfortability within that space, was the result of fifteen years of living and serving in my community. I did not view myself as “other,” nor did anyone in that room.
After the funeral, I noticed the deceased’s son was emotional and distraught. For this blog, I will call him “Bobby.” I waited to depart so I could offer him a word of embrace. He left in a hurry following a tussle-of-words with another family member that nearly turned to blows. I saw him in front of the funeral home as I departed. As I approached him, I must admit there was some trepidation in my spirit; although I knew some of his family members well, I had never had any personal interactions with him.
As I walked up to “Bobby,” I reached out my hand. He adjusted the cup of liquor he held in one hand to the other hand which held a joint. As we shook hands, or as we say in the Bronx, “gave each other a pound,” I told him, “The doors of the church are always open for you, “Bobby.” Don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s something we can pray for or be helpful with. We’re in your corner.”
He responded, “Thank you, Andrew. That means a lot.”
Honestly, I didn’t even know he knew my name.
I wanted to say more, but it wasn’t the right time. I must confess, sometimes in an effort to comfort others, I avoid talking about the reality of death and hell. Death is certain. Hell is real, but so is heaven. Paul described how our faith and lives should affect others when he said:
“Our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God. But this fragrance is perceived differently by those who are being saved and by those who are perishing. To those who are perishing, we are a dreadful smell of death and doom. But to those who are being saved, we are a life-giving perfume. And who is adequate for such a task as this?” (2 Corinthians 2:15-16)
I’m praying for boldness.
I’m praying God will help me know when to comfort and when to dis-comfort.
And of course, I’m praying for “Bobby.”