Francis’ scary reflection on death sounds an awful lot like what the Talmudic rabbis teach!
Dear young people of Scholas Occurrentes gathered from so many nations of the world, I celebrate with you the end of this meeting. I want to stop there. I wish to dwell on this: the end.
What would become of this encounter if it did not have an end? Perhaps it wouldn’t even be an encounter. And what would become of this life if it did not also have its end?
I know some will say: “Father, don’t put on a funeral face.” But let us think this through. I know from a good source that you kept the question of death burning throughout this entire experience. You played, thought, and created out of your differences.
Good! I celebrate and thank you for this. Because, you know what? The question of death is really a question about life. And keeping the question of death open, perhaps, is the greatest human responsibility towards the question of life.
Just as words are born out of silence and return to it, allowing us to hear their meanings, so it is with life. This may sound somewhat paradoxical, but… It is death that allows life to remain alive!
It is the end goal that allows a story to be written, a painting to be painted, two bodies to embraced. But watch out, the end goal is not found only at the end. Perhaps we should pay attention to each small purpose of everyday life. Not only at the end of the story – we never know when it ends – but at the end of each word, at the end of each silence, of each page that is being written. Only a life that is conscious of the fact that this exact instant will end works to make it eternal.
On the other hand, death reminds us that it is impossible to be, understand, and encompass everything. It comes as a slap in the face to our illusion of omnipotence. It teaches us throughout life to engage ourselves with mystery. This gives us confidence to jump into the void and to realize that we will not fall, that we will not sink, and that there is always Someone there to catch us. Both before and after the end.
The “not knowing” part of this question results in fragility that opens us to listening to and meeting other people. It is that rising above the commotion that calls us to create something, and urges us to come together to celebrate it.
Lastly, the question of death has driven different communities, peoples, and cultures to be formed throughout the ages and throughout all lands. These are stories that have fought in so many places to stay alive, while others were never born. That is why today, perhaps as never before, we should touch on this question.
The world is already formed, and everything is already explained. There is no room for open questions. Is that true? It is true, but it is also not true. That is our world. It is already fully-formed, and there is no place for unanswered questions. In a world that worships autonomy, self-sufficiency, and self-realization, there seems to be no place for the other. Our world of plans and infinite acceleration – always speeding up – does not allow for interruptions. So the worldly culture that enslaves also tries to put us to sleep so we forget what it means to stop at last.
But the very oblivion of death is also its beginning. And a culture that forgets death begins to die within. He who forgets death has already begun to die.
That is why I thank you so much! Because you have had the courage to confront this question and to pass – with your own bodies – through the three deaths that, by emptying us, fill us with life! The ‘death’ of every instant. The death of the ego. The death of one world gives way to a new one.
Remember, if death is not to have the last word, it is because in life we learned to die for one another.
Finally, I would like to thank especially World ORT and each one of the people and institutions that made possible this activity in which the culture of encounter has become tangible.
I ask each of you please, each in his own way, each according to his own convictions: don’t forget to pray for me. Thank you.