Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
—John Donne
* * *
I recently read For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway and then watched the two-hour-and-45-minute 1943 movie starring Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman.
Sappy, shallow, ponderous. A classic!
Death is on my mind these days. Suddenly (or so it seems), I have several friends for whom the bell will soon toll. It will, of course, toll for all of us someday. But for those of us of hefty age it will toll sooner than later.
It wasn’t always that way. We didn’t dread the bell. We were young and immortal. Death was an abstraction. We could always count on tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow.
No longer.
Today is our tomorrow.
Today we’re much less young. Or to be frank and forthright, we’re much older! Still, we tell ourselves: “Eighty is the new sixty.” But nobody told the Grim Reaper. Neither hair dye, nor facelifts, nor Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair fools him.
He keeps coming.
But fear not, my friends. Be still. Take heart.
Today is the Third Sunday of Advent.
Today a child will light the third candle on the Advent wreath. It is rose-colored and stands for JOY.
The lector will read from Isaiah: The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and shouting.
Choirs and congregations will sing: Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Light.
And it will.
And yet, the bell will still toll, eventually.
For one friend, soon.
He knows. We know. We’ve entered the valley.
We gather again with him.
We eat. We drink. We talk. We laugh. We cry a little. We say goodbye. We hug.
And the light shines.
Somehow.
* * *
I cannot tell you
how the light comes.
What I know
is that it is more ancient
than imagining.
That it travels
across an astounding expanse
to reach us.
That it loves
searching out
what is hidden
what is lost
what is forgotten
or in peril
or in pain.
I cannot tell you
how the light comes,
but that it does.
That it will.
May we open
and open more
and open still
to the blessed light
that comes.
—Jan Richardson
Thank you, Randy, for this poignant piece. Mortality is an increasing reality for many of us. Turning 80 in November was a turning point of evaluation and reflection for me. A comedian put it this way: “Live each day as if it is your last one and, one day, you’ll be right.” There is wisdom in recognizing our limitations and the need for humility. Death is no longer an abstraction, as one can feel it in one’s bones and aches. But a larger piece of wisdom tells us that how we live is how we die. We can choose to practice gratitude and find ourselves in grace. We can light the candle or curse the darkness. M.Scott Peck is right: “Life is difficult.” Let us choose wisely!
Every once in a while, I have thought about getting a tattoo. But I could never think of the image I would want for the rest of my life. Now, the long term consequences of that a decision are much shorter. Joy. Gaudete in Domine Semper. John 1:5.
This season is all about the light or the return of it. The shortest day remains ahead of us. However, we trust that the light will return and it always does.
Then there’s your reading of Hemingway’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” I read it when young and even then could detect the frivolous fiction contained between its covers. However, this fact didn’t diminish the highlighting of a good cause, the Spanish Republicans rising against Franco’s fascist threat and his support provided by Hitler and Mussolini. Standing against the darkness of fascism is something that we the people are being called upon to do again. The bell indeed sounds for all of us. Hopefully, during our lifetimes, we’ve stood up against darkness and madness, nurtured the light and passed it on to others. Even in our dotage, we old timers are being called to defend the light. Hopefully, we answer the summons and join in the struggle to save the light so that when the bell tolls for us, we know we stood for what was right and just. In other words, something bigger than ourselves. Onward!
Thank you, Randy.
Seize the joy!
Thanks my friend. Getting older means getting closer to the end of our earthly life. For me (and I realize im not normal) I have more time for what nourishes my heart and spirit. I read what nourishes me, I write what I think and feel, stand up for love and justice, talk with wonderful people, walk long ways to nowhere, drive to hikes and mountain lookouts, show my kids how much I love them. Thank you for making my aging better. Happy Hanukkah!! Merry Christmas!!! Love to All Creation!!!
I enjoyed that book and movie, and admired Bergman and Cooper in their careers. I think for those of us who encountered death in someone we loved, a child, a teen, we learned through those experiences that we did not know when the bell would toll, and we did not have to be old to hear it ring. I am reading Anne Lamott’s, Somehow: Thoughts on Love, and much of the early chapters have shown the importance of listening and visiting with those in distress and those facing death. We have knowledge of light and hope and God’s love. I am thankful for caring friends and your posts that make me reflect on the lights in life.
Yes… mortality is a certainty, & we all face that reality at times. The comfort for me is in the company of others. “ you double my joys, & halve my sorrows “. The comfort for me is in nature, & the stillness of this moment, when the still, small voice within shares the wisdoms of lite & love – in all their forms.
Lite truly illumines my mind, my heart, my spirit. Somehow it shines into dark places, dark times; & opening to it – over & over again, becomes a daily dance with lite, dark, mortality, & into the great unknown.
Loving these discussions, these musings – lite in dark times…together we somehow continue to shine on!
Thank you Randy…& all you brothers & sisters of the lite🙏❤️
“It is only because death is stalking us that the world is an unfathomable Mystery.” The Art of Terror and Wonder by M. Alan Elwell. Perhaps this puts Christ’s words, “I die daily” in a different context. It also shapes our relationship to this world and all our actions as “controlled folly.” What is this Light that all spiritual paths focus on and how can we make it a Living Light? Another Great Mystery.
Every morning I wake up to a large painting of a field and sky in twilight by my old friend now passed Charlie Shobe. I always read the painting as dusk until I looked out my eastern window at dawn to find an identical sky. Thank you Charlie for the perfect sky. I see you standing there.
“Tomorrow…and tomorrow and tomorrow and Now…may we open and open more and open still to the blessed light 🕯that comes.” Amen; may it be so. Randy and Friends, may this season of love, light, and our own rebirth/renewal reverberate with chords of joy, gratitude, and belief in the benevolence and good will of humankind.
Maybe I shouldn’t chime in on this subject, but I that I need to lighten up and just cincentrate on jingle bells this month.