Born to Die

I’m dying, have been since the day I was born. Admittedly, my leukemia has heightened awareness of my mortality, but I have long understood that mine is the same ultimate destiny as all living things. We humans credit ourselves with being the only species capable of contemplating our own death. I have no way of knowing whether or not that’s true, but I do know that it is an ability I share with the rest of humanity. Just because we know that we are going to die, however, does not mean that we know how to speak freely about what we know is true. I don’t think that I’m completely off base to say that death is still regarded by humans as the enemy to be either avoided or conquered. Regarding life as preparation for death is still considered by most as a morbid acknowledgment of a topic that is taboo. Nonetheless, I’m dying, and I can’t help but wonder what death is going to be like. The reports of near-death experiences are of little comfort to me because they are just that: almost but not quite. I’ve borrowed the title of what I somewhat presumptuously remember as one of my better sermons as I invite my readers to share in this Lenten quest for the meaning of my own death.