Service Provides Proof of Existence
Some time ago, I arrived at the conclusion that eternal life rests partly in the stories people tell of us after we die and lay mouldering in the ground, or after our bodies are burnt and dispersed to the winds.
During September, following the death of a friend, I wrote an essay about this idea. It's posted on this blog, and is called "Making What Comes Before Count." I talked a bit about how I view eternal life in two parts.
First, eternal life is quite literal as we return to earth the chemicals that comprise our bodies. We learned in middle school physics that matter does not go away, it merely changes form. I like to think that as my body decomposes the elements of which it is made will be dispersed to support other uses. Maybe some of the chemicals in my pinky finger will bind with a decaying bit of plant matter that a worm eats. That worm will be eaten by a robin in early spring. The robin will shit, somewhere, and some of the chemicals that I used to build my body now will be used to fertilize a seed that just is starting to sprout. And so it goes. A flower, opening, pollinated by a passing bee. Now an atom's worth of what was me is attached to the bees knees, and the bee goes buzzing on his way...
Second, I believe eternal life is the stories that are told of us after we pass. I talked about how some individuals will have everlasting life because their stories have been - or will - be told for millenia. This eternal life is granted to charismatic leaders on both sides of good and evil. But I wondered how long the eternal life would be for someone such as myself - a person with a niece, nephews, many cousins, but no children of her own. I guessed that in about 15 years, my stories wouldn't be told. That memory of me would cease.
Today I read a story sent to me by a coworker, and that struck home on my thinking about eternal life. It was a story about a memorial service held during December, in Minneapolis, for 130 persons who were homeless, had been homeless, or who advocated for homeless persons.
The manner in which these souls were recognized is, I think, fitting. The deceased's name, age and city of death was written on a placard. The placards were carried by marchers for an hour through Minneapolis to a church. The marchers - advocates, homeless persons, others - arrived cold. Once the marchers were seated, the service began.
The most poignant part of the story for me was that one of the attendees - a person who is homeless - was overheard thanking the memorial service organizer for honoring the lives and passing of the individuals.
"You didn't exist if you weren't remembered," he said.
Life expectancy for Minnesota's homeless persons is 41 years of age. For the rest of us, it's upwards of 80 years of age. I wonder how long it will take before the 130 remembered will no longer have friends by whom to be remembered? It might be even shorter than the 15 years I anticipate having for an eternal life.
I'm marking my calendar today, so that next year, I might attend this memorial service.
(Read the full story by Michael Dahl, public policy director for HOME Line, here: http://bit.ly/ee88Ir)
During September, following the death of a friend, I wrote an essay about this idea. It's posted on this blog, and is called "Making What Comes Before Count." I talked a bit about how I view eternal life in two parts.
First, eternal life is quite literal as we return to earth the chemicals that comprise our bodies. We learned in middle school physics that matter does not go away, it merely changes form. I like to think that as my body decomposes the elements of which it is made will be dispersed to support other uses. Maybe some of the chemicals in my pinky finger will bind with a decaying bit of plant matter that a worm eats. That worm will be eaten by a robin in early spring. The robin will shit, somewhere, and some of the chemicals that I used to build my body now will be used to fertilize a seed that just is starting to sprout. And so it goes. A flower, opening, pollinated by a passing bee. Now an atom's worth of what was me is attached to the bees knees, and the bee goes buzzing on his way...
Second, I believe eternal life is the stories that are told of us after we pass. I talked about how some individuals will have everlasting life because their stories have been - or will - be told for millenia. This eternal life is granted to charismatic leaders on both sides of good and evil. But I wondered how long the eternal life would be for someone such as myself - a person with a niece, nephews, many cousins, but no children of her own. I guessed that in about 15 years, my stories wouldn't be told. That memory of me would cease.
Today I read a story sent to me by a coworker, and that struck home on my thinking about eternal life. It was a story about a memorial service held during December, in Minneapolis, for 130 persons who were homeless, had been homeless, or who advocated for homeless persons.
The manner in which these souls were recognized is, I think, fitting. The deceased's name, age and city of death was written on a placard. The placards were carried by marchers for an hour through Minneapolis to a church. The marchers - advocates, homeless persons, others - arrived cold. Once the marchers were seated, the service began.
The most poignant part of the story for me was that one of the attendees - a person who is homeless - was overheard thanking the memorial service organizer for honoring the lives and passing of the individuals.
"You didn't exist if you weren't remembered," he said.
Life expectancy for Minnesota's homeless persons is 41 years of age. For the rest of us, it's upwards of 80 years of age. I wonder how long it will take before the 130 remembered will no longer have friends by whom to be remembered? It might be even shorter than the 15 years I anticipate having for an eternal life.
I'm marking my calendar today, so that next year, I might attend this memorial service.
(Read the full story by Michael Dahl, public policy director for HOME Line, here: http://bit.ly/ee88Ir)
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