Big Bird Learns About Death
Here’s the description of the following Sesame Street scene:
The actor who played Mr. Hooper on Sesame Street, Will Lee, died. The Sesame Street people decided to let the character die too, and used it as an opportunity to teach children about death.
This clip demonstrates how to treat death in an honest and helpful way better than any evasive or euphemistic gibberish I’ve heard from allegedly mature people.
My Job Proposed and I Said “No”
It’s been 30 straight days since I’ve had a day off.
Work has never hurt me. Good work is fuel to the body and soul. And the funeral business is good work. It is meeting needs that only you – as funeral director – can meet. It’s easing an otherwise impossible task for the bereaved. It’s so good that many directors marry this business. It’s easy to marry this business.
To commit to it as your first love. It’s easy to pledge your heart to this one thing and no other.
It’s easy to let your own family take second in your priority list.
It’s easy to allow your personal life to get swallowed up by the voracious appetite of death care.
Like many other businesses, if you don’t marry it, it begs. It begs for your attention. Your time. It begs for your heart. It begs for your soul. It begs for you to miss your kid’s games. It begs of you to skip the date night with your special someone. It begs you to miss church.
This business will take you and romance you into believing that you … YOU are THE ONE … the only one who can meet the needs of the family.
And I’m afraid that one day I’ll give up and concede. I’ve been in this business for 10 years now and if feels like it’s becoming less and less “what I do” and more and more “who I am.”
And I have nothing against committing to a job for a lifetime; my problem is having my sense of freedom erode day by day. The more I become embedded, the harder it will become to “get out” … if I should ever choose to “get out.” Will I eventually marry this business and sacrifice my dreams to earn a Ph.D.? Will I become like so many others and just let this business take my soul?
It’s not the hard work, the late hours, the fact that I didn’t get done working until 1 AM this morning … it’s the fact that it’s slowly eating away at me. I’m becoming this business and this business is becoming me.
I love caring for families, helping them walk through the valley of the shadow. I enjoy putting my heart into this business, but I won’t give it my soul.
I haven’t married it. I won’t marry it. I won’t let it define me.
And this is why:
Forgiving God
I had just dropped off the funeral home’s outgoing mail at the nearby post office, got back into my little truck and was about ready to pull onto First Ave. when a police car came blazing through town with his lights flashing and sirens squealing, probably topping 50 mph in a 25 zone. As I saw him pass me I thought to myself, “I wonder what’s going on?”
It didn’t take me long to find out.
He was heading about five miles west of our modest town of Parkesburg to Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania,to the site of the Amish School Shootings. I, along with the rest of the world, watched the TV in disgust that night as we learned the details of how the killer had lined 10 Amish girls along the wall and shot them execution style, killing five and wounding the rest before eventually killing himself.[1]
This all happened six years ago yesterday.
*****
Some of the survivors testify that the killer, Roberts, seconds before he opened fire mumbled that he was going to give up and was even about ready to walk out the door. Yet, for some reason, he stuck to his intentions and, seconds before he pulled the trigger, stated to the Amish children, “I’m angry at God and I need to punish some Christian girls to get even with Him.”[2]
Unknown to most of us, one of Robert’s children, a daughter, had died at birth, an event he believed God could have stopped, yet didn’t. Roberts, like most of us as we face death, had probably run to God like a frightened child, and after years of searching, instead of finding a warm, strong embrace, concluded that God was an absentee father.
On Monday, October 2, 2006 at 10:45 a.m., Roberts “got even” with God in his attempt to confront the looming question that lead, for Roberts, to bitterness, hatred and eventual tragedy.
*****
I’m not suggesting that Roberts was sane; nor am I suggesting that you must be insane to become absolutely hateful and embittered at God.
I’ve often said that it’s easier to become an atheist than to believe in an evil God … Robert took the harder route and became just like his Father.
But all this would have, could have been forestalled had Roberts done something that is both very Christian and very unChristian all at once. Roberts may have found peace had he found the ability to forgive.
The forgiveness he needed to offer was the same forgiveness I imagine many of us (who both believe in God’s omnipotence and have lived through inordinate, unexplained pain) need to offer. A forgiveness that can’t be prompted by any amount of lessons in theodicy. A forgiveness that is precipitated with Jesus’ cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
The cry that kicked off Holy Saturday. And the cry that — like Jesus’ cry — had no response. The cry that leads to the crossroads of destruction or forgiveness. But not any forgiveness. This is the cry that eventually asks us to forgive God.
*****
“Forgiving God” smacks against the core of what so many of us believe about God: namely, that He is good and that He’s love. Believing that God needs forgiveness — as though He’s done something wrong — is so far away from our conception about God that we simply don’t talk about it. We won’t acknowledge that even Jesus struggled with God’s goodness … we won’t acknowledge Jesus’ struggle, nor will we acknowledge our own struggle.
And whether God actually needs the forgiveness isn’t what I’m talking about here. Whether or not God needs it is a moot point. The fact is, many of us need to extend it.
As many books have rightly said about the Amish School Shootings: This whole story is about forgiveness. And by that they mean the forgiveness of the Amish people towards Roberts. But, this story would have never begun had Roberts been Christ-like as well.
And so, as a practical exercise, I’ll ask you: and by “you”, I’m speaking to a few. I’m not speaking to the many who have lived decent lives, unencumbered by evil, unhindered by the fog of intense pain. I’m speaking to the downcast, the trampled few who only have one explanation for their current situation … and the explanation is both as harrowing as it is unbelievable … that God has forsaken them. I’m speaking to you … the forsaken.
Have you forgiven God?
[1] We didn’t bury any of the Amish children, but the guy who bought the funeral home off of my maternal grandfather prepared two of the children.
[2]Quoted from the book Amish Grace; page 25.
Before I Die I Want to …
Key quote:
“Preparing for death is one of the most empowering things you can do. Thinking about death clarifies your life.”
This Is What Happens When You Die (Said No One Ever)
Movies have depicted some decent dying scenes. Nicki and I watched Kate Hudson’s “A Little Bit of Heaven” over the weekend.
O.
M.
G.
One of the better movies about dying I’ve ever seen. And the death scene itself was touching. The following clip you’re about to watch, not so much.
It’s neither touching, accurate or well produced. It sucks. In fact, it might be the must sucky death scene in a movie ever. (Thanks to 22 Words for making me aware of it).
