Regretfully, Brittany Maynard—the 29-year old woman diagnosed with glioblastoma (terminal brain cancer)—took her own life on November 1^st.  She moved to Oregon from her home in California so that she could take advantage of the state’s “death with dignity” law, passed in 1997.  I will not convict Brittany Maynard of some irredeemable sin nor will I call her a coward.  But I will take to task the Christians who support this grisly, inhumane, and impersonal law and reprimand them for their moral cowardice in the face of the seductive platitudes and dishonest pressures of the world—all of which can ultimately be traced back to Satan, the “father of lies.”  I will also attempt to forge a solution to the plight of euthanasia—one that can be embraced and promoted by people of any religious faith (or no faith at all) and is consistent with our common, inherent, and immutable human dignity, properly understood.

Over at The Huffington Post, Reverend Chuck Currie wrote a piece called “BrittanyMaynard Made A Moral Choice.”  Yes, Maynard did make a “moral choice”—if by moral, he means “of a moral nature.”  If, however, he means that the choice was “moral”—as in “good”—then it is my duty to disagree wholeheartedly.  The piece is a quandary to me because the good reverend actually sympathizes with and endorses Maynard’s decision to kill herself!  His main claim reads as follows:

Death with dignity is not about freedom, at least not in the way Archbishop Sample understands it.  [The Archbishop holds the view that there is no freedom to be found in choosing death and that we need to accept death as a force beyond our control in order to experience true freedom.]  We cannot escape death.  There is no freedom to change the reality of human existence.  Too often we try to pretend there is by tying ourselves to machines and medicines that prolong both life and suffering.  Unimaginable human suffering need not precede eternal life.  Jesus sought to end suffering.  It is difficult to hear a Christian extol suffering as a virtue.

Why, pray tell, Rev. Currie, is it difficult to hear a Christian extol suffering as a virtue?  After all, it was not beneath God Himself to suffer for His creatures—rebellious and wicked ones at that—a gruesome, torturous, and ignoble death on a cross.  If suffering is not beneath even the Son of God, why is it that you believe that we, His mere creatures, have a right to simply “opt out” of life because it hurts?  It sounds to me as though we have a replay of the Garden of Eden on our hands: the reverend—out of a fear of death—has bought the serpent’s empty promise—“you will be like gods, who know good and evil”; euthanasia is the fruit of the tree of which we are forbidden to eat, and Man, yet again, is falling for the tempter’s lies and deceit.

Here’s the thing, reverend: life is always good; life is always intrinsically good, in fact.  Without life, all other rights and social goods of which we speak and to which we cling—rights to liberty, property, free speech, etc.—are merely illusory because life itself is the prerequisite—the ground, so to speak—for them all.  Life does not become “bad,” “evil,” “not worth living,” or “inherently worthless” just because suffering, grief, a loss of autonomy and/or rationality, or something else (or a thousand other something-elses) enter the picture.  Nor do pleasant and noble sounding euphemisms—“aid in dying,” “death with dignity,” “the right to die”—alter the reality that euthanasia is murder perpetrated upon a sick, scared, and “consenting” individual.  (Think about how desperately you desire—what you would not give—to end something as minor as a particularly nasty stomachache.  Consent?  Really?)  Problems, setbacks, and hardships in life only make an inherently good gift—life—more unpleasant or difficult to bear.  Yes, sometimes life is a cross, reverend, but it is always one that we should bear gladly for nothing other than sheer love of our Blessed Lord, supported and strengthened by His Divine graces, favor, and especially the Sacraments.  Jesus said it Himself: “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Lk. 14:27).  For these people, this is their cross.  It is not to be thrown off and cast aside—none of them are, big or small.

Rev. Currie then proclaims that “[U]nimaginable human suffering need not precede eternal life,” but this is a false application of the reality of mercy, the virtue of courage, as well as a dubious view of God Himself.  Yes, God is a “god of love” as he says, and it is precisely because of this awesome reality (not in spite of it) that we should, in our sufferings, rest in God—who is Love Itself—not kill ourselves to escape His embrace.  Christians are called to be courageous, not commit suicide when the going gets rough.  Rev. Currie’s view would enshrine in the minds of people the notion de facto that only the truly “heroic” (in some Western, secularized sense of the word—think Superman) could suffer till natural death (i.e., without recourse to suicide drugs or some other means) what Maynard had suffered.  No, all Christians are called to a life of heroism in Christ, not just the “best ones.”  But Rev. Currie’s standard would implicitly lower that bar, signaling to Christians (and others) the world over that only the “heroes” can endure the entirety of end-of-life suffering.  Try telling that to the early martyrs (i.e., “regular” people) when they were being devoured by lions, reverend.

Additionally, no one is saying that we must endure all suffering, always.  We have access to very creative and effective pain management treatments nowadays.  Do they always work?  Probably not, but that fact actually makes no difference in this discussion.  Pain does not make suicide a viable option.  Pain is pain; it is not an excuse to kill oneself.  Extraordinary means of care need not be utilized, but ordinary means must be.  We are not permitted to kill ourselves to avoid discomfort (massive though that discomfort may be) when ordinary means may preserve our lives.  Try the Catechism on this one.

Now, as for what can be done to stem the tide in this particular flare-up of the broader culture war.  Obviously, the legislative process is a must: if we can keep laws like Oregon’s off of the books to begin with, then there is nothing to rail against or to support.  Media portrayal also needs to be monitored.  Coverage of stories like this cannot be allowed to be so sympathetic—at least not without a fight.  Brittany Maynard committed suicide.  In any other more “traditional” context (e.g., she hung herself), that fact would be regrettable and would be lamented with a thousand tears and a thousand wails.  Now, her action is hailed by society as “courageous,” as if it is the only viable option for someone in her situation, but this, as we will see, is wrong.

There are many good arguments against euthanasia—practical, legal, philosophical, and scientific.  Humanlife is inviolable because of our inherent and immutable human dignity.  The current “right to die” movement will slowly but surely morph into the ugly “obligation to die” movement.  The widespread proliferation and societal acceptance of euthanasia will lead to the abuse of the weakest and most vulnerable in our societies.  Euthanasia promotes a conception of radically autonomous freedom heretofore unseen in entirety of the drama that we call human history—one where the will and desire of the individual is absolute and comes at the expense of the traditional notion of Man as an interdependent and indispensable part of a community of persons.  Laws like Oregon’s will act as teacher, making it more likely that people seek out euthanization—something that they might have been less likely to choose otherwise—as the law conditionssociety to be more accepting toward euthanasia.  And, finally, the act itself—necessarily utilizing medical professionals whose formal charge is to (at the very least) “do no harm”—will create a warped perception of what medicine is for: life and healing, not death.  While all of these are worthy and powerful arguments, there is one in particular upon which I would like us to focus.

The most important thing for us to do as Christians (and any other people of faith and of good will who abhor suicide) is to love these people.  These people do not want to die.  They want to be loved.  They want to not feel like burdens.  They want to be loved.  It is only when we enter into their suffering, mirroring Christ Himself who suffered for and with us, that the deathly pallor and utter despair that these people feel as they crawl toward death can be transfigured and so reflect the salvific nature of Christ’s Passion.  When we suffer with them, we participate in the divine economy of grace and mercy, mysteriously atoning in some invisible way (though in no way less real because of that) for the sins of Man.

A large majority of people (at least in Oregon) cite the “fear of being a burden” as the reason for their seeking euthanasia—not because of any unmanageable pain or existential crisis.  That should tell us something.  Love is the answer!  It is staring us right in the face, and we fail to see it.  Either that or we will not see it.  It is too pure and noble for our culture now, I fear.  As soon as something is inconvenient or makes demands of us, we run.  Marriages are delayed (in part) because they require sacrifice.  Abortions are had (in part) because babies are a burden, a hassle, a drag on resources and “free living.”  The societal ethos (typified currently by this euthanasia discussion) of avoiding suffering at all costs is poisonous and must be repudiated and beaten back.

It is time we step up to the plate and realize that Man is a social creature, made for community with his neighbor through and with God.  Man is made for love; indeed, it is his highest calling, given to him by Almighty God.  It is time we start showering the people in these terrible plights with all the love that we can possibly muster.

Love conquered the world once.  I am confident it will do so again.

After all, real people’s very lives depend on it.

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We all know that person. They are not a part of organized religion because it’s too “oppressive.”  It controls people, hoards money, and judges those who are different.  This view of being spiritual but not religious can take many forms.  I believe that many adopt it out of a desire for flexibility, as a way to affirm their own innate sense of being more than simply material beings, but I believe that even more take up the practice out of a desire to “not judge” or “infringe upon someone else’s truth.”  If done correctly, it leads to foolishness such as claiming to hate religion, but love Jesus.  I will freely admit that the blame for the “spiritual but not religious” craze probably falls most squarely upon the members of the Catholic Church.  Fact of the matter is that we Catholics have not done a good enough job connecting with people and spreading the One Truth.  I plan to fix this, one blog post at a time.

Witness the Eastern spiritualite who adheres to the spiritual principles of reincarnation, karma, and meditation.  That each man is his own and on his own journey, yet somehow ethereally connected to all other men within some sort of transcendent “All.”

  

Or the more Westernized version of the same sort of idea: renegading “free thinkers” who feel that organized religion is either uncool or just so Dark Ages that they can’t be bothered with it.  But when pressed as to why they practice yoga?  (“No way brah!  Yoga is so chill.  (As they ignore the fact that yoga predates Christianity.))  The meaning and purpose of their lives are what they make of them, not what some stodgy old cleric who’s probably never even had sex or smoked pot before says they are.  They decide their own spiritual path, damnit!  Then, we have the better, but still grimace-inducing quasi-Protestant, who feels that it’s all about his “personal relationship with Jesus.”  Everything else he does is extra—it’s that really personal, lovey-dovey “happy-happy times” feeling he gets when he thinks about Jesus that really matters.  That’s what counts, not some ancient tradition, or rituals, or anything like church attendance—Heaven forbid!

The unifying, undergirding maxim of all three of these “spiritual but not religious” folks’ respective iterations (and I am sure that there are many, many more) is quite nicely summed up with a reference to pop culture.  Will Ferrell, playing candidate Cam Brady in The Campaign, in response to the question, “Is it true that you have not been to church in over nine months?” had this to say: “My relationship to God is not measured by taking attendance.”

I’d like to press the point a bit, if I may: is what Ferrell is saying here really true?  I know it sounds really good and appealing.  God is everywhere!  God loves and accepts all people!  Religion divides and controls people!  Boo religion!  It’s icky and the leaders just want to hoard as much money as possible and rape altar boys and yada-yada-yada.  We’ve heard it all before.  And guess what guys?  I am quick to agree with him on this one!  (Shocker?  Maybe; depends on how well you know me, I guess.)  My relationship with God is certainly not measured by how often I attend church….  Except when it is.  Said another way: if I have a true relationship with God, then I will be at church, as paradoxical as that sounds.

Allow me to explain.  All this “spiritual but not religious” jargon is akin to a man who, when asked if he loves his mother, says, “Of course I love my mother: I think about her all the time.”  When asked how often he calls her, he replies, “You know, I would say that it’s usually when I have nothing better to do.”  When asked how often he visits her, he replies, “Well, maybe on Christmas, but that’s about it; she knows I love her, though.”

We would all cringe at these answers, would we not?  It is almost instinctive that we reject this person’s responses about his actions concerning his love for his mother.  Why is this so?  It is because, like it or not, ideas have consequences, and this man is not showing, by his actions, that he loves his mother as much as his lip-service is claiming he does.  It is a very simple concept.  My ideas about the world, the things in it, the people I am involved with, all have consequences.  If I believe that there are such things as shoe-upside-down hobgoblins who will steal my shoes in the dead of night if I leave them upside down, and I want to keep my shoes, well, I am going to make damn well sure that my shoes stay right-side-up, right?  If I believe that trees can talk, and I want to talk to trees, well, I am going to spend my time trying to communicate with trees, right?  And if I believe that my friend is mad at me, and I care to have a good relationship with my friend, then I am going to try to figure out how best to make amends with my friend, right?

In the same way, if I believe that there is a God, and I wish to have a connection with Him/have a relationship with Him/be in communion with Him, then I will strive to do that-which-will-permit-me-to-do-this-best, right?  It is true that He is omnipresent—He is everywhere.  I get that when you tip your waitress a little extra, or volunteer at a homeless shelter, or even when you just meditate or pray in your room, that He is present.  This is not news, people.  But, from a Catholic perspective, there is a radical difference between being at Mass and being anywhere else, because, at Mass, God makes Himself present to us in a unique and special way.

Let’s run through it really fast.  Let’s just say that there was an institution that purported to have been founded by God’s Son.  Let’s just say it also purported to have never fallen into true error in an official capacity (nor will it ever).  Let’s just say it’s been around for, oh, just about 2,000 years now (ahem, oldest institution on the face of the earth *cough* and still chuggin’ along, I might add *cough*).  Let’s just say it also kick-started the Scientific Revolution.  Let’s also add in the fact that this institution claims that you can (and should!) eat the flesh of the ever-living God-man, Christ, and drink His most Precious Blood EVERY. DAMN. DAY!  (If you so choose, of course.)  And this institution cares so much about this practice that it actually requires its faithful to come every Sunday to partake in the meal (provided they are properly disposed, of course).  Now, I’m not saying that those who are “spiritual but not religious” can’t connect in some meaningful sense with God, or be saved, etc. etc., but if there were an institution that claimed all this, wouldn’t you be in the least bit curious about it?  Wouldn’t you at least seriously investigate it?  And at most, be a part of it wholeheartedly?

In case you haven’t figured out that the Catholic Church was the glorious subject of that last paragraph, I will make it painfully obvious: yes, I was referring to the Catholic Church.  And let me just add that going to Mass is not some requirement to be checked off of our proverbial cosmic to-do lists on our way to salvation (or at least it shouldn’t be).  Mass is a fundamentally relational activity.  A man is more in a relationship with God at Mass than he is anywhere else, doing anything else.  In fact, he is as in communion with God at Mass as he ever can be here on Earth, this side of death.

So the next time you run across that “spiritual but not religious” person, ask them if they take pleasure in depriving themselves of the activity that most fully places them in communion with that which they claim to be seeking—God.  Ask them if they regularly settle.  Because that’s what “I’m spiritual but not religious” means: “I’m settling.”  It means, “I know of this other activity which can satisfy my desire for God better, but I won’t partake in it, just because, well, because rules (or fill in your particular pet peeve here).”  Sounds pretty nonsensical to me.  How about for you guys?

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You guys all know what I’m talking about right? You’re maybe watching the news when it cuts to commercial. Then, an overhead sweep-in camera pans onto an immaculately made bed, with perhaps a gorgeous woman lying upon it—apparently asleep—as rather soothing and contemplative music plays softly in the background. Then, an authoritatively powerful and masculine voice sounds from off camera right: “Get the rest you deserve. You deserve a Sleep Number® bed.” Now, because I am a rather eccentric person in some regards (I mean, I am writing this blog after all), I tend to notice things about commercials (or at least with this one) that many others do not. I have discerned a connection between this commercial and Man’s sinful state. “Impossible!” you say. “You must be really reaching now, Deion; you don’t honestly expect us to believe that a bed commercial gave you some kind of special insight into the fundamental nature of Man-as-sinner, now do you?” Ah, but this is precisely what I mean. Don’t believe me? Read on and see for yourself: “and do not be unbelieving, but believe” (John 20:27).

(Yeah, yeah, I know that verse is taken from the story of Thomas and the Resurrected Christ, when Thomas expressed his doubt to the other disciples that Jesus had indeed risen. You’re probably wondering why I shamelessly made use of such an important line from Sacred Scripture for seemingly no other discernible reason than because I have a penchant for trivialization… and perhaps a smidgen of pride—and a dash of folly. Well, so am I; so just go with it!)

Anyway, back to how the bed commercial relates to Man-as-sinner. It is no secret that, in the Gospels, Christ demands of us true repentance. He wants us to be moved to take on a new life, complete with new habits and thoughts and desires. He is never more plainspoken in this regard than when He says to the crowd, “‘If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me’” (Luke 9:23). Christ demands that we die to ourselves each and every day and follow Him in love and obedience. He demands that we lessen—our wills, prejudices, meanness, bitterness, and on-and-on—so that He can increase in us. St. John the Baptist said this far before I write it now, and much more plainly and clearly: “He must increase; I must decrease” (John 3:30).

Now, in contrast, what do these commercials tell us we need to do? They promise a “perfect night’s sleep,” “the best sleep you’ve ever had,” and (my personal favorite) “when you wake up and your back doesn’t hurt at all: wow!” (Note: what I say in the rest of this post has nothing to do, and is no way targeted at, those who actually have back problems, and may you all experience God’s tender healing and mercy.) I just really cannot stand that last quote! The commercial is literally indicative of the state of our entire society! We shirk hardship, reject pain and suffering, and seek only the easiest and shortest way to complete any given task (when we can even muster up the will to get off of our computers and phones and actually start said task!) Our sex is guiltless, string-less, loveless, childless; our elderly are “put down” in their frailty and infirmity—their utter vulnerability—not to lessen their suffering, but to lessen our having to be a part of that same suffering; and our children are made, not conceived in an act of total self-giving love, but in cold, economically viable business transactions among three consenting adults and a lab. Let’s just face it and own up to it: we are “all-in” on the business of minimizing suffering. Suffering is seen as a mark of failure, of shame, and it is to be avoided at all costs.

And guess what? I would be inclined to agree with that sentiment, if not for one small problem: Jesus. As tempting as it is to listen and give myself over to the message of a cleverly crafted, 21st century commercial advertising a product designed to make my life more leisurely, made by a corporation whose primary concern is their bottom-line, I cannot—in spite of myself (imagine that!)—seem to shake Christ’s words from my mind. I think (and I could very well be wrong here; you guys be the judge) that the Son of God ought to be heeded well before a mattress company is!

“The Sleep Number® conforms to you.” –some guy named Greg (probably). Again, the height of folly in our modern society, embodied in a freakin’ two-minute commercial! Gone—it seems—are the days where we conformed to others, when we genuinely cared for and worried about our friends and neighbors, when we would put such high-minded things as morals and the common good before the ravenous desire for comfort by our bodies. This commercial makes truly evident to me just how far our society has fallen from the ideal that is the Kingdom of God. There is no such thing as a self-centered existence that also aligns with God! For Christ Himself said:

“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life.” (John 12:24-25)

Christ is saying, somewhat paradoxically (and the Church absolutely eats this stuff up: true God and true man, Virgin Mother, death brings everlasting life, etc. etc.), that unless we live outside of ourselves—lives rooted in His eternal kingship, lives of love and obedience—we will die. We will remain grains of wheat, never to realize our true destinies as divinized (made more similar to God) sons and daughters of God.

None of us are long for this world, and it would pay dearly for us to remember that. Earth is not our true home: we were created for something far more wonderful and awe-inspiring. We must shake the fog from our eyes and tear away the glamorously gilded veneer of the modern world that so audaciously promises us heaven-on-earth. It is an effort doomed to perpetual failure, my friends. Heaven is where God is, and it is achieved only by conforming ourselves to God’s only begotten Son, Christ Jesus, “the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation… the beginning, the firstborn from the dead” (Colossians 1:15, 18b), and principally by God’s grace, for we can do nothing apart from it.

(I would also like to add a small note about my choice of company with whose commercial’s I have chosen to malign in this post. Really, any mattress company would have been acceptable. I know it seems like I have an ax to grind with Sleep Number®. I really and truly do not: they were simply the first corporation (that also sold mattresses) that popped into my head.  And for all you company execs, employees, sympathizers: take this as a mark of the effectiveness of your marketing teams, give them a raise, and, for the love of all that is good and holy, don't sue me!  It could just have easily have been TempurPedic®, after all.)

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