Reconstructing

The desire to cling to our dead seems
so intrinsic to the human experience,
which makes the prevailing culture
so unusual for attempting to push the
dead away. We use euphemisms to
numb the experience of death, saying
that someone has “passed away”
instead of “died.” We move the resting
places of the dead farther away from
the dwelling places of the living. The
Grove Street Cemetery is one example.
It was established in 1796 to replace
the New Haven Green as the city’s
primary burial ground. The Green
marked the town center, whereas the
Grove Street Cemetery was then on its
periphery.
WHEN
MY
GRANDFATHER
DIED
ON THAT MOUNTAIN
TOP, GASPING FOR AIR,
WHAT WAS ON HIS
MIND? DID HE REGRET
MAKING THE TRIP MY
FATHER HAD ADVISED
AGAINST? DID HE
WISH HE COULD SEE
HIS CHILDREN AND
GRANDCHILDREN ONE
LAST TIME?
In a way, modern medicine fulfills the
same purpose. Hospitals and nursing
homes cordon off the sick and elderly
for health reasons, separating them
from the people they love and trust
most. This culture of isolation was
on full display during the Covid-19
pandemic, in which many people died
alone in the hospital, their families
denied visitation under lockdown rules.
How did these people feel as death
approached? Perhaps they still had
dreams to fulfill, places they wanted
to visit, or people they wanted to see
when Death came knocking. When
my grandfather died on that mountain
top, gasping for air, what was on his
mind? Did he regret making the trip
my father had advised against? Did
he wish he could see his children and
grandchildren one last time?
In the mid-15th century, two texts
were published that spawned an entire
genre of religious texts called the ars
moriendi–the art of dying. In a society
where the next plague outbreak, war
or famine was never too far away, ars
moriendi texts provided a degree of
comfort and stability to people anxious
about their mortality. Ars moriendi texts,
while offering useful advice, were not
so much about ensuring that the dying
had extra-soft pillows, hot tea and
their favorite books at their bedside
(although who wouldn’t want those
things?). Rather, ars moriendi texts were
an exhortation to cultivate virtues over
a lifetime.
The ars moriendi texts outlined five
common temptations faced by
Christians throughout their lives, but
especially near death: lack of faith,
despair, impatience, spiritual pride and
avarice. Christians could be tempted
to renounce their faith in God as they
lay dying; they could also lose hope in
God’s ability to forgive them of their
sin. They might become hostile and
bitter toward others as they lost the
ability to bear their suffering patiently.
They might fret about how they would
be remembered, and thus become
too proud of their achievements
while overlooking their sins. Finally,
attachment to earthly possessions
could prevent medieval Christians
from accepting their mortality and
instead make them more anxious and
uncertain about the afterlife. To resist
these five temptations, the ars moriendi
texts provided advice on how to
adopt opposing virtues. Faith instead
of unbelief, hope instead of despair,
patient love instead of impatience,
humility instead of pride, and
generosity instead of avarice.
FAITH INSTEAD OF
UNBELIEF,
HOPE
INSTEAD OF DESPAIR
Some may say that ars moriendi texts
only made sense in an era where death
was always at the forefront of people’s
minds. With the advent of modern
medicine, people no longer need to
worry about making it to the next
week. The vast majority of people
alive today are now expected to live
well into their eighties and nineties.
Modern medicine has ushered in
an age of vastly improved health
and material comfort, giving us the
illusion of immortality. Rather than
using the extra time to prepare for
death, however, many would rather
forget that it will one day happen. Yet
pretending that death is avoidable does
nothing to alleviate our natural fear
of death, nor does it prevent it from
actually happening. A brief glimpse
of Sheol–an illness, an accident, or a
natural disaster–easily rekindles such
fears.
We must acknowledge our mortality as
an inevitable outcome of our present
condition, and thus acquire all the
guidance and support we can get as we
approach death. Dr. Lydia Dugdale
writes that “we are relational beings,
and dying is a community affair. It takes
a village to flourish while dying.” [3]
Family, friends, priests and physicians–
connections and conversations with
people we can trust are absolutely vital
to prepare us for death. A community
can also be guided by those who came
before–tradition, or what Chesterton
called the “democracy of the dead,”
[4] expressed through rituals that
show us “what to do when a living
Reconstructing: Fall 2022