In the Midst of Life We Are in Death

Media vita in morte sumus
Quem quaerimus ad iutorem nihi site domine
Qui pro peccatis nostris

Sancte Deus, sancte fortis
Sancte misericor salvator
Amare mortis ne tradas nos

In te speraverunt patres nostri
Speraverunt et liberasti eos

Media vita in morte sumus 

For my 40^th birthday this past month, my husband threw me an Over the Hill Party. I’ve been longing for one ever since I turned 30 – in truth, ever since my mom’s 40^th birthday party. I loved her black balloons and the jolly welcoming she gave to middle life.

There was something so cheerful and confident about my mom at 40; there’s something so cheerful and confident about her now, at almost 70. I’m grateful to both my parents for the friendship they seem to have with every stage of life, that camaraderie has made it very natural for me as well to fall into casual friendship with all of life’s ages so far.

I never have birthday parties for myself. Usually, I prefer to spend the day celebrating quietly with my husband and kids. But 40 is a bit of a milestone, and at 40, one can legitimately throw an Over the Hill Party. My artist husband planned the entire event, made the decorations, and decorated the cake (black cocoa powder does make a perfectly black, amazingly chocolatey cake, by the way). A friend even brought over his vintage, 1940s portable organ and played me a dirge. It was delightful. And just as my 10-year-old-self delighted in my mother’s black balloons and grave humor long ago, my own kids adored my own death-themed party. In the midst of life we are in death, after all.

It can be difficult to recognize death in this increasingly sanitized world of ours. Difficult to remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

Sister Death

St. Francis chose to look at death as simply another way in which the world praises God. “Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whom no living person can escape.”

In calling Death his sister, Francis is welcoming her to join him in the journey toward eternity. Instead of continually fearing and hiding from death, Francis chose to cultivate friendship with it. His relationship to, and welcome of Sister Death, wasn’t at all similar to the pursuit of death we find in suicides. Francis can be at peace with Death because he is at peace with Christ, who has, Himself, met and tamed Death.

Just as Francis met and tamed the wolf of Gubbio – turning the wolf from a terror of the countryside to the pet of a village – Christ has done something similar with Death. She has met Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, and walked with Him through all her halls of souls. After such a meeting, she is the friend of His friends, and the companion of His disciples. But, as Francis warns his brothers, “Whenever someone dies in mortal sin…the devil snatches his soul from his body with such anguish and distress.”

Like the wolf of Gubbio, Death untamed is terrifying. But so are so many of the other elements Francis sings to in the Canticle of the Sun: fire, water, earth. For people living close to nature, these elements can be comforting or terrifying, just like death. The difference is in whether those elements are tamed and calm, or angry and wild. St. Francis acknowledges this in his very next line:

Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whom no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin.

But as we try to reach our lives towards Christ, Death herself becomes kinder and gentler. A quiet friend who whispers “let me take you for a walk in the footsteps of our Beloved.”

Visiting the Souls

Here in northern New England, there is a cemetery around almost every corner. There are eight between our home and our parish. Each time we drive past, we pray for the soul’s whose bodies are buried in those little plots.

Eternal Rest grant unto them, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them. And may their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Because these are old, New England cemeteries, there are sometimes only five or six graves. Other times they are larger, sprawling little graveyards with dozens of crumbling stones. We like to stop and visit when we can. There are rarely people in these graveyards, most of the dead were buried before my grandmother was born, and I doubt they have family in the state anymore.

But visiting the souls is another great way to build up that camaraderie with life and with death. It’s nice to have friends on both sides. The souls we pray for appreciate the support, and like knowing that they have the comfort of our prayers during their time in purgatory. I also like knowing that I’ll have the comfort of some of their prayers during my time in purgatory as well. The Church is a community after all, and the Church Triumphant, Suffering, and Militant should be reaching out to each other as much as we can.

In the Midst of Life

“Media vita in morte summus” – in the midst of life we are in death… “Holy, merciful Savior… Our fathers trusted in You. They hoped and You delivered them.”

There is something deeply hopeful about confidently stepping toward the second half of life. There is something tender about walking “down the hill” toward the open arms of Christ. In the midst of life, we are indeed in death, but that is not a scary place to be. Instead, it is an opportunity to embrace a deeper intimacy with Life Himself, who tamed Death and made her our sister.

I find meditations on death a delightful way to become more intimately acquainted with life, and a reminder to keep our beloved dead forever in our hearts and prayers.