One of my favorite authors is Ursula LeGuin. In one story a space traveler comes to a planet where they can actually predict the future. The natives do not think this is a very big deal much to the astonishment of the traveler. He asks the practitioner about it. He answers that they perfected this technique to demonstrate “The perfect uselessness of knowing the answer to the wrong questions.” He goes on: “Tell me what is known? What is sure, predictable, inevitable – the one certain thing you know concerning your future and mine?” “That we shall die” the traveler answers. “Yes. There’s really only one question that can be asked and we already know the answer. The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next.” These thoughts arise because on Ash Wednesday we are remined that “we are dust and unto dust we shall return.” God’s words to Adam are addressed to every human being since. During the Middle Ages, during a much worse pandemic than the one we are experiencing, the practice of memento mori, reflecting on death, became a common practice. Seeing everything in life in light of the fact that we shall die helps keeps things in the proper perspective.
We can think of the traditional practices of Lent — prayer, fasting, almsgiving — as part of the memento mori. In prayer we accept that no matter how much we plan or try to keep control that we will fall into God’s hands at the moment of death. Fasting teaches us that we can’t ultimately satisfy ourselves since death continues to stalk us like a hungry bear. When we give alms we are demonstrating that the only thing we bring with us on the other side of death are our relationships, the connections we have made with others
A story: there was a famous rabbi that a student wanted to learn from. After traveling for many days he came to the great man’s house. Much to his surprise when he was ushered into the rabbi’s presence the room was completely empty except for the rabbi himself. The student was puzzled and aske, “Rabbi, where is your furniture?” “My Son, where is yours?” “But Rabbi, I am just passing through.” The Rabbi answered, “So am I.”
