Frightened and free

 It’s the first week of Lent, and I was delighted to find an online retreat, hosted by the Dominican order out of Cork, Ireland.  There were several themes offered, and participants could register for one.  I chose “An Introduction to Moral Theology” because it was something that was of interest.

Ethics and morality are so ingrained into humanity that it’s challenging for us to be able to clearly define our own.  We’ve all faced ethical or moral dilemmas over time, and perhaps we glibly quote things like, “the needs of the many...” (while crying buckets watching Spock and Kirk share a last conversation.) I’ll leave you to look up definitions and examples, because I’ll get distracted from my Very Important Post 🤣

The session opened with a short discussion, asking us what we considered to be our main moral and ethical issues.  After a while, a brave soul began offering ideas (you may know them) and it took off.  We mentioned things like immigration, health care, climate change, political corruption... and the priest who was facilitating agreed that these are all big issues.  He then pointed out that the focus of morality should be more about who, not what.  Our focus on the what happens because it’s easier to externalize those things, they’re big, difficult and require huge effort, so we can tiptoe around them and point fingers about responsibility.  However, when we are focussed on who — on relationships, on people, then those big things fall into place.  (I’ll come back to this in another post.  It certainly bears deep consideration, and I’m sure that we’ll pick up on it in one of the next sessions.)

At the end of our session this week, we were asked, as our homework assignment, to consider what we would want to have said about us at our funerals. What aspects of our character would be remembered by our family and friends?  What effect did we have on the lives of the people around us?  How well did we live up to our ideals?  Were we obstacles to the growth and development of people?  Did we help them grow?  When people think of us, were we an example or a warning?  Do they think of us fondly, with a smile, or with fear and loathing?  

I’ve spent most of the week thinking about this, even more on the days when I felt dreadful, because then I could mope satisfactorily by contemplating my demise.  I would like it if my eulogy was genuinely filled with praises of me, and there were no negatives, but I am human, so I definitely have flaws.  I know that I’m not always as kind or as loving as I should be; that sometimes I’m quick to dismiss others’ ideas because I’m in a bad mood, or because I dislike them.  I’m guilty of not seeing people or their needs, and of being harsh towards those I don’t like.  I’d like to be able to say that I never lie, but that wouldn’t be true.  I know that people have challenged my religious beliefs because I don’t act the way that they expect a religious Catholic to act.  Someone questioned my belief because I didn’t keep my eyes closed during prayer; another because I went to parties and drank alcohol; yet another because I argued in support of women’s rights and for LGBTQ+.  I fall somewhere in the middle of reactions, though, because I have to ask forgiveness for my lack of sympathy in some areas — notably when it comes to those who willingly self-harm. I sometimes swing from “bleeding heart liberal” to “cold hearted witch” on the same topic, depending on the details of a situation.  As I said, I’m human.

If someone, who is not part of my immediate family, were to give my eulogy, what would they say?  What do people think of me?  I’ve learned that I apparently can keep many of my thoughts and feelings to myself, even though I think that I’m as transparent as glass,  For instance, it wasn’t until about 2 years before her death that my mother realized that I particularly liked a certain type of chocolate.  I’ve worked with some people for years and they never knew of my experience in some areas. So there are many things that apparently are not well known.  That’s true of everyone; I’m often surprised by some new piece of knowledge about a longtime friend, or even one of my siblings!  I would hope that I have lived up to the Christian ideal of loving my neighbours and showing that love in my actions.  That I have been a good example, and not a warning, to those around me.  That my life inspired others to draw nearer to each other and to God, and that nobody thinks “good riddance,” when they hear of my passing.  Further, I hope that this post encourages my readers to reach out to their friends and family to talk to them while they are around.  (I’d never refuse a phone call or a plan to meet for coffee/lunch/dinner/brunch/dessert...)  Most of all, I would hope that at my in-the-far-distant-future funeral, that anyone there would experience a sense of loss at my departure, but a feeling of joy at having shared in my life, and that I was a part of theirs.  

What do you want to be said about you at your funeral?