Patience and the Dying Art
A couple of weeks ago I wrote in this space about medicine and dying. Recently I wrote also for The Human Life Review about patience and the art of dying. The word “art” is deliberate: old Christian wisdom about dying is that there is an art, a craft to it. This art of dying is something we can encourage for people, and it is also something we ourselves can practice. There are particular virtues that are apposite for dying well, for dying in a way that is holy and encouraging to others.
Traditionally, five good virtues are noted, namely, faith, hope, patience, humility, and charity. Dying persons would be encouraged to practice these things, as best they could, while they had time to do so. These goods arose to combat typical temptations that we humans face as we encounter the limits of our mortal life, temptations of doubt, despair, impatience, vainglory, and avarice.
In my post, I focused on one of those goods, the virtue of patience. And to explicate it I turned to the Anglican bishop Jeremy Taylor, who in 1651 published The Rule and Exercises of Holy Dying.
“Taylor’s first word on patience is directed at the friends and visitors of the sick person. Don’t tell sick people to suppress their sighs, groans, humble complaints, or dolorous expressions. When you are sick you do not have the duty of being cheerful! Different people feel pain to different degrees, and one should allow a sick person to cry out when pain is severe. Indeed crying out may be helpful, in that in some cases it abates or diverts the pain. . . .
“Christian patience does not forbid complaint but it should shape the way sick people complain. First, our complaints should be without despair. Complain you may, but do not lose hope. Why? Because God really is good, as we know already from our experience. So pray to God to help you; turn to spiritual guides; make use of ‘holy exercises and acts of grace’ that are proper to a state of sickness.
“Second, our complaints should be ‘without murmur’! Murmuring is what the fallen angels did: they murmured against the way God had arranged things. Instead, think on God’s justice, wisdom, mercy, and grace. Confess your sins, for by doing so you increase and exercise humility. Sing God’s praises—even from the lowest abyss.
“And third, our complaints should be without peevishness, that is to say, we should be civil and decent towards people who are ministering to us. Seek to be tractable, easy to be persuaded, apt to take counsel. Don’t be ungentle and uneasy to the ministers and nurses that attend you, and bear their accidents contentedly and without disquietude or evil words.”
Then I listed things that, Taylor points out, people who are dying or very sick can do even in the midst of their weakened state, even if they cannot leave their bed. They can contemplate particular truths—for instance, that others have suffered worse, many of whom were weaker than we are, and some of them children. He says also that a person endures sickness only one minute at a time. Our duty to endure extends only to the present minute. “One minute at a time,” of course, is akin the AA mantra, “One day at a time.”
Besides such contemplations, there are deeds we can perform in the midst of sickness, confident that God will provide what we need. For instance, we can make an act of thanksgiving, and we can resolve to do all that we can, as God gives us the power. And we can hold before our eyes and in our heart the example of Jesus upon the cross.
The whole column has more detail and practical examples, and connects with what I wrote two weeks ago in this space. You can read it here: https://humanlifereview.com/patience-and-the-art-of-dying/
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Out & About. Wednesday, March 11, at St. Augustine’s Church in Oak Cliff, Dallas, I am to speak at the Lenten program on Jesus as, basically, the culmination of all things! The program starts with Stations at 5:30pm followed by a lenten supper at 6. The program runs from 6:30 to 7:30.
Regrets and commiserations. It is perhaps some consolation that we all go through it together, the shift from Standard Time to the falsely named Daylight Saving Time. Falsely, I say, for the sun rises and sets according to astronomical laws that defy our ability to save daylight. All we can do is rename the hours, we can’t save them! I have long thought, though, that it is unfair for the time change to occur always on a Sunday. Let it be on a fixed date—April 1, say—and let the time change happen on whatever day of the week April 1 happens to fall. That would be a true April Fools!