Here we are again slipping into winter, and for most of the natural world, winter is a time of dying. Many animals will not survive the winter: the ones who are too old, the ones who are too young, the foolish, the unlucky, the squirrel who has forgotten where he hid the nuts. It’s no wonder we sometimes think of our own lives in terms of seasons, the exuberant spring of youth giving way to calm summer and reserved autumn and finally to winter, last before the end.
Death is an experience that we human beings share with the natural world, and Mark Kutolowski’s article in this edition shows us how much we can learn about death from the death of animals, especially those we raise for food. Can we take comfort in the naturalness of death? Some pre-Christian philosophers thought so. The ancient philosopher Epicurus argued that death is not to be feared precisely because it is the end of our biological bodies. Epicurus didn’t believe in an afterlife, so according to him, when you’re dead, there’s no you to worry about it. It’s as silly to worry about your death as it is to worry about the time before you were born.
As the twentieth century came to an end, the American atheist philosopher Herbert Fingarette echoed Epicurus’ arguments in Death: Philosophical Soundings (1996). Fingarette argued that death was not really something to be feared. But this would not prove to be his last word. Fingarette’s grandson would make a poignant documentary about his grandfather as an old man. The documentary is called Being 97, and in it we find Fingarette reflecting on a death he knows cannot be far off. His arguments no longer bring him comfort, and the philosopher is afraid.
How can something as natural as death be so terrifying? Perhaps the terror of death isn’t in its naturalness but in the fact that at the moment of death we leave the natural world and enter the next world, a world that we can only call supernatural. Of course that’s unsettling. And yet it is an unsettling truth that must be faced, at least according to the philosopher Blaise Pascal whom we’ll encounter here. Pascal mocked our dishonestly in not thinking about death. We are like prisoners on death row, and the only thing we don’t want to talk about is the thing we have in common: all of us are here to die. Or as the future martyr Saint Thomas More would put it, the cart that is bringing us to our execution is already on the way, the only difference is that your journey may last a little longer than mine.
If death cannot be forgotten or ignored, perhaps it can be made beautiful. The Greeks hoped so, praying to Thanatos, god of good deaths and, appropriately, the twin brother of Sleep. Christian poets have sought the beauty in death, as we’ll find in Shakespeare, and in Richard Crashaw below. Even our last approach to death may be beautiful, as we read in the essay by Graeme Hunter about the death of his mother, my grandmother. And we, who remain, find our consolation in the beauty of the funeral Mass as described by Tate Pumfrey.
Not everyone is willing to look for beauty in death. There isn’t much beauty to be found in the ghoulish verses of John Lydgate who brought into English the continental idea of the Dance of Death. It’s a dance that we must all perform, when Death comes and calls us to join in.
Deeth sparith not lowe ne hy degré.
Popes, kynges, ne worthy emperours —
Whan thei shyne most in felicité,
He can abate the fresshnes of her flours,
The bright sonne clipsen [i.e. eclipsing] with his shours
Everyone faces death. What sets Christians apart is our hope, a thread which runs through the contributions to this edition of Tradition Magazine, and one which is spelled out in Aaron Debusschere’s dialogue. Christianity does not deny the terror of death. Death is a curse, Adam’s curse, and in the eerie symbolism of Genesis, Adam is cursed to become dust while the tempter who appears as a serpent is cursed to consume dust. Our fate, then, is to enter that gaping maw, that hellmouth. Or at least, this would be our fate but for a second Adam who offers us redemption, the figure of Christ who dies but passes through those dark gates not as victim but as conqueror, and even, for those who are already there, as liberator. This is the core of our hope, and it’s a theme we’ll encounter directly through scripture, in the apocryphal telling of the Gospel of Nicodemus, and in the exuberance of the hymn that Ephrem the Syrian sings looking at things from the point of view of defeated, humbled Death.
Death is never good in itself, but what awaits us is a good thing, or perhaps I should say what awaits is the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. No wonder that Christians like Justin Martyr spoke of death with such enthusiasm they found themselves accused of being suicidal – a charge we’ll see Justin Martyr take on in these pages. And no wonder that Christians have so long considered the means of dying well, a theme we find in the anonymous Ars Moriendi, the Art of Dying, as well as in Father Mathew Hardesty’s contribution on The Apostolic Blessing at the Point of Death.
Finally, it seems right to point out that although all things die in time, Tradition Magazine is not dead, although our original publication schedule has proved far too ambitious. We will continue on a slower, occasional schedule. Our next issue will be on the topic of pilgrimage. If you have an article you would like us to consider, please send it to us.
Even though our schedule is slowing down, we’re going to increase our internet presence beyond Substack. We are very pleased to announce the launch of a new website which will be hosting what you can find on Substack. Audio files will be available in both locations. You can find that at www.tradmag.org.
One last thing. I am stepping aside as editor. I love this project, but I just haven’t been able to give it the time it deserves. And so I am very pleased to introduce you to Aaron Debusschere, who will be taking my place as editor from here on out. In addition to being a wonderful Catholic and father, Aaron has already been lending us his expertise in theology behind the scenes. His writing has appeared in both editions so far. I am very confident that he will lead Tradition Magazine to flourish. And I won’t be gone, I’ll still be involved, but in a much more limited capacity.
Now, on to the issue.
Hugh Hunter
Editor
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