Memento Mori: Remember That You Will Die

This is a repost of my essay, edited by Rev. Kevin.

In this pandemic, it may be difficult to resist being tossed around by the wave of hysteria- its rapid spread and its many deaths. I know I have jumped into that hysterical ocean, and to get out of it, I naturally read or watch things for comfort, with the message, “everything will be alright.” But this is the season of Lent, when suffering and death push into the forefront. So, instead of going onto YouTube, I researched the meditation on death: on how death is real, and that we will all die. As I searched, Google provided mainly Buddhist resources, but I wanted to see the Hebraic and Christian tradition. So, I refined my search. I came across Theresa Alethia Noble, FSP.

Sister Theresa, sometimes affectionately called “Sister Death,” is an advocate for memento mori – Latin for, “Remember death” – an ancient discipline of remembering the unpredictable end of life. Usually, memento mori is practiced by having a physical object that clearly represents death, the classical example being a human skull (ideally, it’s a fake one...), that helps you meditate on death. Sr. Theresa began her practice of memento mori a few years ago during a difficult period in her life when another sister donated a ceramic skull from her Halloween supply. She meditated on her inevitable death daily and tweeting, which gained a huge following and inspired others to practice memento mori. Sr. Theresa claims that memento mori was practiced throughout Church history – from St. Benedict and his Rule to the Puritans until recently. We have lost the practice of meditating on our inevitable deaths to our detriment.

Sr. Theresa states various aspects of modern society have disrespected death. Ranging greatly, from the ability to live long lives and cure many diseases (thankfully), to our distaste for mystery, we, both the secular and the Church, become less familiar with death. We do not know how to relate with it well. In turn, we try to do the impossible, avoid death. We try to avoid it in our talks and in our thoughts. We may succeed for a while, but you cannot avoid it physically. Everyone, everyone you know and love, will die.

However, Sr. Theresa argues that Christians, out of all people, should particularly meditate on death, not because we have the ability to transcend death, but because we have a Savior. Jesus conquered death and provided life in the Age to Come through the cross. “But do we really believe this?” she challenged us. If we truly believe this, then we must meditate on a reality that we all face, and yet was overcame by Jesus and us, altering the fabrics of reality. We must meditate on how we will all die, and yet, we will mysteriously overcome death through the acts of Jesus.

Sr. Theresa states that there are benefits to meditating on death. When we meditate on death, we actually begin to lose fear of death. The logic is simple: the more we meditate on death, the more familiar we become with it. It is not a dangerous stranger that should be avoided at all times, but an acquaintance. And if it is to be seen negatively, then as a pathetic enemy that should be despised, but not feared. Meditating on our death allows us to live a more heavenly life, acting mercifully to the downtrodden and forgiving our enemies. Sr. Theresa regularly follows the advice of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, a renowned Catholic priest and theologian who co-founded the Society of Jesus (commonly known as “Jesuits”), to imagine oneself in their deathbed before making a choice, which allows her to live more intentionally and well.

How can one practice memento mori besides buying a ceramic skull? In her book Remember Your Death: Memento Mori Lenten Devotional,1 Sr. Theresa outlined a daily examen, the spiritual practice of spiritually reflecting on the day’s events to detect God’s presence. Specifically for memento mori, there are five steps to it:

1. Become Aware of God’s Presence “Close your eyes and become present to God dwelling wivthin you through your Baptism, imagine yourself as a child under God’s omniscient, compassionate gaze. Try to visualize yourself stepping out your self- centeredness in order to see reality through the loving eyes of God. This step is a crucial beginning to the examen as God’s perspective on our lives is the only important one.” (p. 8-9)

2. Ask for the Holy Spirit’s Guidance “Offer a short prayer asking the Holy Spirit to help you to see the day in the light of God’s presence.” (p. 9)

3. Review the Day “Ask the questions: ‘How has God loved me today?’ and ‘How have I loved God and my neighbor today?’ Sometimes an obvious moment in the day will jump out – positive or negative – and you can sit with it. However, this step is not like the examination of conscience before confession. Focusing on the negative may come more naturally, but try to note both the positive and negative events of the day and bring them before God in sorrow and thanksgiving.” (p. 9)

4. Remember Your Death “Consider the day in view of the last moments of your life. Envision your deathbed scene and reflect on whatever arose in the previous step in the context of eternal life. In this step, thank God for everything in the day that prepared you for heaven. Ask God for the graces you need to better prepare for the moment of your death, which remains unknown. Consider the question: ‘If I were to die tomorrow, what graces would I need from God?’” (p.9)

5. Look Toward Tomorrow “End by looking forward to the next day. In this step, thank God for the gift of another day of life, should it be God’s will. Think of the specific events of the following day, especially those for which you need particular graces. Visualize yourself trusting and acting in God’s grace as you live both the trying and joyful moments of the next day. This step, if done faithfully, will lead to concrete behavioral and emotional changes in your life.” (p. 10)

Sr. Theresa states, in practicing daily, we become less fearful of death. I have tried this a couple of times, though not consistently. Practicing it was an emotional experience, confronting my subconscious fear of death, the unknown experience of dying. I have become much more aware of my mortality. Life will end. If not now, then in the future. Overall, I am thankful to learn about Sr. Theresa and memento mori. I encourage you to practice memento mori. May we learn to be familiar with death, not to fear it, but to despise it, and to hope in the promise of resurrection.

There is no better time to begin practicing this than during Lent. On Ash Wednesday, priests smear ashes on followers’ forehead, reminding them, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Bibliography:

Theresa Aleitheia Noble, Remember Your Death: Memento Mori Lenten Devotional, (Boston, MA: Pauline Books & Media), 2019.

Lent in Light of the Pandemic

Here is a repost of my essay, edited by Rev. Kevin.

*Editorial Note: This was taken from my journal with additions and edits to better fit it as an essay*

It’s been about three and a half weeks since Ash Wednesday, and I haven’t really made much effort observing Lent fully besides abstaining from meat. However, in light of COVID-19, I believe that this season is more crucial than ever and it’s time to lean hard on it. Before I state why, it’s important to explain what Lent is.

First, the practices and logistics of Lent. Before I describe Lent, it should be noted that practices and observances differ between denomination and tradition, so I will mainly define Lent based on my practice, which pulls from various traditions; an eclectic Lent if you will. Lent is a 40-day season (technically 44 days if you include Sundays) in the Church’s liturgical calendar, after Epiphany and before Good Friday, this year starting from February 26 to April 9. This season is based on Jesus’ time in the Judean desert for 40 days, where he was hungry, thirsty, tired, isolated, and tempted by the Satan, as a testing of his commitment to his calling as Messiah. Traditionally, Christians engaged in three main activities: fasting, praying, and almsgiving (that is, providing charity to the poor and disadvantaged). In addition to fasting, some Christians abstain from meat, from Monday to Saturday, with Sundays seen as “mini Easter.” Lent encompasses three holy days: Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent), Palm Sunday (last Sunday of Lent), and Maundy Thursday (the day before Good Friday).

Second, the theology and significance of Lent. As with many seasons and practices, Lent is multi-dimensional. However, the main themes that it focuses on are sin and suffering. Throughout his life, Jesus witnessed and experienced pain and suffering: from brutal Roman occupation of his homeland to persecution from the religious elite, from the harsh Judean desert to the famine-stricken lands, from the crushing taxes exacted by the occupiers to his own poverty; from the death of his dear friend Lazarus to his own suffering and death by crucifixion. This was Jesus’ world.

Though some of the suffering he witnessed and experienced were simply the harsh realities of the physical world, he saw many that were caused by the sins of those who afflict them (and even then, Jesus probably viewed the world being held as prisoner and slave of sin). As a general statement, sin and suffering go hand in hand, more or less (I, and Jesus, don’t want to promote a strict causal or an abusive theology; it’s much more nuanced).

As we follow Jesus’ life in the Judean desert, we also follow him in the Judean streets; suffering doesn’t just happen “over there,” it happens here as well. As we witness and experience suffering with Jesus, we recognize that our own hands have caused suffering. Therefore, our journey goes further than Jesus: we lament at the suffering we cause. We acknowledge that we are both victim and perpetrator. Thus, from the Judean streets, we walk on the road to Golgotha. And as we walk there, lamenting and grieving at the state of the world and of humanity, our hands that destroy rather than build, we begin looking for hope, until we find it. To our horror and bewilderment, it is a righteous man, as God, crucified on a cross.

Lent speaks to our times. COVID-19 is one of the scores upon scores of issues in the world. Other issues such as climate change, countless wars, economic inequality, education inequality, and racism still linger during the pandemic; they don’t go away nor stop for anything. Crisis upon crisis. so many dead and so much suffering. We tend to go numb, barraged with news headlines that seem to herald the apocalypse. We also become furious, blaming the “enemy(ies),” perhaps even wishing harm upon them. However, regardless of culpability, it is a season to go beyond it, to truly see the broken mess of our world and state of being, how we all played a part in creating this mess. Few are guilty, but all are responsible.

Our privilege and technology allow us to escape, sidestep, or shorten suffering. We aren’t well-acquainted with it, and we avoid it because it’s unpleasant. Due to this, we don’t know how to suffer well. We become less empathetic and sympathetic to others in need. “Suffering happens to other people, not me,” we claim, until it happens to us.

All of this makes us imbalanced. We are oversupplied with rage and short on humanity. We are oversupplied with numbness and short on compassion. We are oversupplied with despair and short on hope. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Through this season of Lent, we hope to confront and lament the sufferings we experience. We hope to confess our sins to change our heart and ways. We hope to mourn with those who mourn and suffer with those who suffer. We hope to view everyone as dignified humans in need of grace. We hope to be sympathetic to the concerns of God (the divine pathos). We hope that God is walking next to us, in humanity’s pain and suffering. We hope to be the object of his sorrows, care, and compassion.

A harrowing journey it is for the followers of a God who cares about us, and therefore, suffers with us.