In the psalms, last Tuesday morning, came the verse:

 But all the wicked shall perish

and all the enemies of the Lord.

They are like the beauty of the meadows,

They shall vanish, they shall vanish like smoke.

(Psalm 36, Grail Translation)

Dark Rider

These words put me in mind of various films, of a certain genre, I have seen, one of which was ‘Lord of the Rings’. In this ‘epic’, there were nine evil men – in league with those trying to destroy the ‘Hobbits’ – who had the ‘Ring’ with them. The ‘Nine’ rode fast and furiously on black horses, wearing black hoods that hid their faces. In one scene, the hoods opened up and their faces did not exist. Instead there was just ‘nothing’.  In the end, these ghastly evil presences simply disintegrated; much the same sort of thing happens in many horror movies. The ‘evil monster’, when challenged, will disappear – or disintegrate – in a puff of smoke. 

Many people, especially the very young, are frightened of the dark, of nothingness, of loneliness and of evil. I think that these fears have their roots, largely, in the awareness we have of our ‘impotence’ in the face of forces we do not understand, in our ‘inability’, often, to change things and to bring about their metamorphosis to things as we would like them – into things we are comfortable with; involved in these feelings, certainly, are those senses we can all experience, of being worthless, powerless – when faced with the unknown. Against all this, I am driven to reflect on the Divine Majesty of God, and that one day each of us, having ‘vanished, vanished like smoke, will find ourselves in His presence. There before God, He will not want us to be just an ‘empty shell’ – a ‘pale shadow’ of our real selves; He wishes us to have that ‘fullness of life’, that ‘magnificence of spirit’, for did not Jesus witness that: “I have come that they may have life, life to the full”. Now, you may ask: “Is this a paradox with no solution?” I don’t think so, and in this regard, events, experience and help from important Christian teachings, can throw much light on the matter. 

This last week has been one of those times that have affected me deeply – no doubt because of the experiences it brought – and these have led to a certain chain of thought. A few days ago, I was privileged to be with a friend of mine, Malcolm, when he was dying, and although I had not been involved in the hard work – staying up all night with him – as he approached this serious moment of his life, it happened that this was the way ‘providence’ arranged things. (We Catholics pray the Hail Mary throughout our lives, asking Our Lady’s help: “…. pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death” – and often, I would wager, not fully realising the absolute importance of these two moments of our lives – especially the latter.  Whoever composed this prayer was a genius, someone, I suspect, very much filled with the Holy Spirit.)  But, to continue, with me were two other mutual friends, so I was not alone with Malcolm, as he departed this life.  

When one’s friend, just before he dies, opens his eyes and looks at those who are with him, there is a very real and moving finality about this; there is also another look, so it sometimes seems, at someone else behind – or beyond – those in immediate focus, then, gradually, his breathing stops, and one is there in that dramatic silence, an awesome moment as the life of a friend comes to an irrevocable end; this, to be sure, is something that, certainly, sends out its mark to those close by, and to those observers it can seem as if there is a departure into nothingness – into a complete and void emptiness – into a hole that is left behind. 

However, when you know a great deal about the loving goodness of your friend, and the efforts he has made to live as good a life as he could, within his own limitations and personality, you realise that the words Jesus spoke, in the Gospel, just before he died, ring very true for such a loved one: 

“After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, ‘Father the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do.” John 17; 1-4 

Malcolm had finished the work given him by his Creator. This was to remain faithful to God, right to the very end, and on his journey of life, to have done all he could to follow the path God had marked out for him. I found myself, in his last moments of life, simply saying: “Thank You” to him, just for being himself. Looking back over our friendship, it wasn’t so much because of his abilities as a ‘wit’, as an interesting companion, as a loyal supporter of so many, but just his ‘being’ that had now ‘gone’. There is now a ‘hole’ in my life – and in the life of his friends – a ‘hole’ that he once filled. I look around and at a picture of my own ‘blood’ brother, Tim – brother and life-long friend – that reminds me so much of Malcolm, and have the same feeling – an emptiness in me, a ‘hole’ that is left because he is no longer here. 

However, in both these bereavements, I do not feel ‘lost’: rather there is a knowledge that the relationship remains, constant, unbending, unbroken, and I can continue to talk with them, in my mind and heart, in a way that is meaningful. It is not a complete ‘emptiness’, of ‘nothingness’, but somehow a ‘full’ emptiness that is taken up by the power and the presence of LOVE; LOVE that reflects their way of being, LOVE that reflects their way of loving, because the beauty I see in them is the development, in them, of gifts that were not theirs, but reflections in them of God’s LOVE. 

It is not easy, to put into explanatory words, the ‘realities’ I know to be true. Before sharing these with you, I must tell you that Malcolm, a Probation Officer working in Prisons, was also dedicated to God, and had decided to forgo the vocation of marriage – just like priests, monks and nuns. Two ‘illustrations’ will help to throw light on the matter. Both come from ‘holy’ women, the first of whom is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who writes about ordained priests, but her statement applies to all who, out of love for God, and accepting his gift, live a celibate life:

Mother Teresa of Calcutta

“Dear collaborators with Christ, you have said “Yes” to Jesus and He has taken you at your word. The Word of God became in Jesus “poverty”. Your priestly celibacy is the terrible emptiness that you experience. God is not able to satisfy whatever is full. He can only fill what is empty…Today He wants to live his complete submission to the Father in you; agree with him and let Him do it. It does not matter what you experience, but what He does in you……You and me should do everything to let Him live in us and through us, in this world. Be very close to Our Lady, because she, before she became full of grace, full of Jesus, had to enter this darkness. “How will that be possible?” she asked. Yet in the moment she spoke her “Yes”, she felt the need to hurry away to take Jesus to John and his family.” 

For me, it is through the loving acceptance of God, in the emptiness of my being, that I can find the way to let Him fill my life – and this in collaboration with others – who wish to do the same. He will then help me to take himself – who is LOVE – to others with whom I come in contact.  

The second lady is a parishioner, called Nora, who is very ill with cancer. She is, also, almost totally blind, bed-ridden, grieving the death of her husband only four and a half months ago, and yet she remains serene, and sure of God’s immense goodness and love for her. I found myself saying, in a short note, a ‘Thank You’ to her, also, for her response to God’s gift, knowing and saying – as  she continually does – how good God is; I told her that she reminded me of a soul with Our Lady living within her.  

To offer a little further explanation, the ‘emptiness’ that is filled by God’s presence is a beautiful ‘emptiness’, quite different from the ‘ugly emptiness’ of those who live  estranged from God. Everything will appear to disappear into ‘nothingness’ when we pass from this world to the next, as Malcolm did before my eyes. But, for the ‘just’ it will not be like the emptiness of the wicked who shall ‘vanish like smoke’. This ‘emptiness’ for the ‘just’ is a void that will be filled with the goodness of God – a fullness of God that is built on our own ‘YES’ to Him every day, and built on the nothingness of our human nature, filled with the power and wisdom and love of God. 

Malcolm Pyman (Died 30 August 2010) May he Rest in Peace

One final word about my friend, Malcolm; in the last days of his life, a friend asked him for a word of encouragement for all, and he simply said: “Keep moving onward”. Malcolm, I think, is saying this in his picture.