The Hour of Death

“In so many ways, the situation in which our world suddenly finds itself is unprecedented. But, in other ways, it feels very familiar.

I’m thinking, of course, of September 11, 2001. I still remember the shock and sorrow I felt watching the Twin Towers fall. I also remember the uncertainty of the days that followed. We didn’t know then if and when the attacks would end. We didn’t know what more the terrorists had in store for our country. All we knew was that in the space of a few hours, thousands of our fellow Americans died horrible deaths. And we were scared.

For many of us, 9/11 was a wake-up call — a reminder that our comfortable settled lives could be upended in a moment, that death can always be just one heartbeat away, and that nothing in this world is ever certain, least of all tomorrow.

Not long after the Towers fell, Kimberly and I gathered the children to pray. Like us, they were struggling to make sense of what had happened and Hannah, who had just turned 13, had a question for me.

‘Dad,’ she said, ‘I have to know — are we all going to die?’

‘Yes,’ I responded. ‘100 percent. Definitely.’

All the kids, looked at me, startled. I paused. Then, I continued. ‘Everyone’s going to die, Hannah. But I don’t think it will be today.’

I added, ‘But the important thing, the real question, is not are we going to die, but are we ready to die?’                                     

Later, after we finished our prayers, I turned the conversation back to Hannah’s question. I explained that while the mortality rate for each of us is 100 percent, the immortality rate for each of us is also 100 percent. Death is not the end. Not for anyone. Every person who has ever lived is still alive in one state or another — a state of grace or state of disgrace.

I then referenced St. John Henry Newman’s sermon on ‘The Individuality of the Soul.’ In it, he reminds us:

All those millions upon millions of human beings who ever trod the earth and saw the sun successively are at this very moment in existence all together. This, I think, you will grant we do not duly realize. All those Canaanites, whom the children of Israel slew, every one of them is somewhere in the universe, now at this moment, where God has assigned him a place.

I’m not sure how much of an impression the Newman sermon made on the kids at the time, but it has stayed with me, this vision of the masses of humanity — from Adam and Eve and the men and women who died on 9/11 to those dying, even as I write, from a horrible virus that literally takes your breath away. As I watch the news unfold, I can’t help but think of them all, still living, still waiting, still anticipating, whether in fear or hope, the Last Day.

... Hope is what will sustain us in the days yet to come. It also will make it possible for us to experience joy in this day, no matter what sorrows presently afflict us.

Again, death is not the end. We were made for life. We were made for joy. And in Christ, that life and joy will be ours. In Christ, that life and joy are already ours. Death brings the fulfillment of that life and joy, but we can live in it now. Even in the midst of grief. Even in the midst of war. Even in the midst of plagues and poverty and confusion. If we are in Christ, we have nothing to fear from the terrors of the world. They cannot kill the life inside us. They cannot deprive us of the joy that is ours. They cannot rob us of the hope that fills us — the hope of eternal life.”
~Scott Hahn  (Newman's entire sermon may be found here)