The Martyrdom of the Aged.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go." (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.)  (John 21:18-19a, ESV)

"The Martyrdom of St. Peter"
Caravaggio

Jesus speaks to Peter. From church tradition we receive the outcome of His prediction: Peter was martyred, crucified upside down, and his death strengthened and inspired generations of Christians. 

But can we understand this word of Christ in a wider sense? 

In my profession I provide nursing care for an ever-aging population. The majority of my patients are over 65 years old, disability is the norm rather than the exception, and deathbed care is not new to me. When I hear these words of Jesus, in my mind's eye I see and hear my patients:

"I used to be able to dress myself! I'm so frustrated!"
"I made a mess, I couldn't control it. I'm so ashamed."
"I wish I wasn't such a bother to you." or "I don't want to bother you nurses."
"I don't want you to turn me/change me/wash me/put me in a chair/lay me down in bed."
"I want to go to _______, but nobody will take me."
"My husband (son/sister/etc) died and I can't attend the funeral because the doctors say I have to stay in the hospital."
"I want to go home."
"I don't want to live in a facility."
"I'm crying because I feel like a baby. I used to feed myself and now others feed me."

I hear statements similar to these from my patients on a daily basis. And while we could talk about the proper responses of personal care and medical staff to these crying hearts, I want to take a step back and discuss the cross laid upon the aging Christian. 

When we think of Christian martyrs, we think of men, women and children who were killed because of their confession of Christianity. Death is understood to have occurred.  But originally, a martyr was simply someone who bore witness. (Derivation from Greek 'martur')

Roman Martyrs

In the West today, relatively few Christians are killed for their testimony to Jesus. Those that are, are in turn blessed with the joys of heaven and an early release from suffering here (though those who survive them surely mourn). Most Western Christians live to old age and die a "natural" death. 

But for a Christian, there is always the call to bear witness and there is no escaping martyrdom. 

Our elderly brothers and sisters carry a heavy and often unappreciated cross. Many of them bear disabilities, pain, isolation, weakness and dependency virtually silently, and often far more patiently than we of the younger generation bear even minor wrinkles in our schedules. As their bodies deteriorate, these saints are often marginalized from the life of the Christian congregation. They fall ill, we miss them in church for a few Sundays, we offer their names in the weekly prayer, occasionally we hear an update about how they are doing. But how often does the average parishioner take the time to visit or send a note of encouragement to a home-bound or ailing fellow congregant? (I'm as guilty as the next person. I think, "I'm too busy... maybe next week; they probably have lots of visitors and cards.") As I nurse, I see patients who do have lots of visitors and flowers filling the room. But I see far more people who have next to nobody, who are bored out of their skulls, who are frightened and who crave human conversation, warmth, and understanding on a scale that hard-pressed staff simply do not have the time or energy to give. 

With no human presence to turn to for comfort, in weakness and debility, in an unfamiliar and harsh environment, stripped of personal possessions and pride, physically vulnerable and dependent on others for basic needs, these saints cling to Jesus. I have listened to hospitalized men and women tell of Jesus, sometimes eloquently, often simply and matter-of-factly, at times even in the grip of dementia. They bear witness in their suffering, despite their suffering. 

Do not think that the trials of aging do not sorely press a Christian. This is a time when the inevitability of death becomes ever more real, and, with the clock slowly ticking away the lonely days, feelings of abandonment become harder push aside. Those aches you thought you had at 40 become magnified as your body becomes more debilitated, you lose mobility, and fewer distractions present themselves. 

What is pain, abandonment, emotional distancing and confinement but forms of torture to the human body and soul that were made for wholeness, community, love and freedom?

And to confess Christ in the face of torture is to be a martyr. 

Our saints, our fellow redeemed by Jesus' blood --  people you know -- are being martyred now in a hospital or nursing home near you:

They used to dress themselves with whatever clothing they wished, in any style they liked, and walk wherever they wanted to go. But now they stretch out their arms (or have their arms lifted by others) and others dress them. And others take them to places they do not want to be...

... and meanwhile, they hold to Christ. And as their bodies wear out and fade away, even on their deathbeds, they confess Jesus...

...and by this kind of death, they glorify God. 

Fellow Christian, we are on Jesus' road. We youngsters have just begun the trek. You know what cross has been laid upon your shoulders now, but the shadow of future you barely begin to feel. But Jesus knows and still he tells you to come. If you go where Jesus leads, you will not escape martyrdom. You will become tired. You will wear out. You will suffer. You will die. But even in weakness, in suffering and in death you will have Him and His peace. And beyond it all, eternal life. 

And after saying this he said to him, "Follow me." (John 21:19b, ESV)

A Better Death

( I wrote this more than half a year ago, but haven't had a chance to review it yet. After another look I think I'll let these observations stand. More in the future - this is an incomplete train of thought. Eager for comments.)
So, I've been thinking about death recently. Reading this article on FT prompted further ruminations. I think I'll just think out loud here for a bit.

Is there such a thing as a good death? In our society there is so much equivocation that it is difficult to conclusively answer this and other questions, because there is not universally accepted definition of "good."

Positing some opinions:

1. Death cannot be a "good" of the body because it detracts from rather than perfects the body's "being".

2. Death is inevitable in the current human condition (unaltered by divine intervention e.g. Enoch, Elijah).

3. It is possible for an evil of the body to be preferable to another evil. This is true objectively as well as situationally and relatively. (Preferable to lose a toe than a leg. Preferable to be martyred for one's faith than to recant; but preferable to surrender one's wallet than be shot.)

4. Are "better" and "preferable" synonyms? Can one legitimately say that one evil is better than another? Certainly, one evil of the body can be less egregious than another evil of the body.

5. Thus, one death can conceivably be less of an evil than another death.

6. And yet, the imperfection of the body wrought by death is not the only evil attendant thereon.

The state of the soul must be also in view inasmuch as death closes the opportunity for the actions and grace given in earthly life. The soul is foreclosed upon and an account required.

7. Therefore, if a person be a Christian (the definition of which is understood for these purposes) at the time of death, the result is eternal bliss, the person's accounting being that of Christ's righteousness. And in due time the body will be resurrected imperishable, an unquestionable good of the body. Thus, an evil of the body may be a necessary precursor to the final end of the soul and the perfection (good) of the body.

8. And yet, if a person be not a Christian at the time of death, then death marks the ending of that time in which a person may apprehend and believe the Gospel, without which eternity holds but separation from God (man's final end). This is an unquestionable evil of body and soul.

9. So we conclude that death is an evil of the body which is followed immediately either by a good of the body and soul or by an evil of the body and soul depending upon the state of the soul previous to death, death preventing any alteration in the state of the soul. A double evil being undoubtedly worse than a single evil leading to a far better good, the death of a person as a Christian is indubitably "better" than the death of a person as an unbeliever.

10. If it is true that a single evil is less harmful to one's being than multiplied evils, than one could conceivably hold that death pure and simple is "better" than death accompanied by other evils of the body.

11. And yet, death is never pure and simple: death occurs in a context, in a situation, from causes, modified by circumstances. Some of these circumstances include the following:

- place: where the death takes place.

- people: who is present and what actions they take.

- pain: level and duration of pain leading up do death.

- cause/pathophysiology/course: if natural causes, this is the way the cause of death plays itself out in the body.

- conditions: what the environment is like (noise, tubes, machines, personal incontinence, linens, restraints).

- spiritual readiness: see items 6-9, last rites/sacraments

- awareness: level of measurable awareness of all other circumstances/approaching death

- activity and distress: extent to which the dying person's body moves, indicates distress, fights death.

- presence of "life prolonging" measures: tube feedings, CPR, mechanical ventilation, heart pacing, etc.

12. Because the above circumstances can be modified or managed, the evils accompanying death can be lessened or decreased.

Marriage and Motherhood

In some ways, I feel very different than I did this time last year. Last year, I was a girl, a student, a daughter primarily. Now I am a woman, a worker, a wife, and a mother. My person is the same, but I have stepped out of old roles and into new ones.

I haven't really talked about this transition, except with my husband and my mother, because while these new roles give me great joy they also made me feel awkward and shy, especially around around the young people I interact with. I don't feel that I've really entered the adult ranks, and yet I have most definitely left the general mass of youthdom behind.

As a wife, I've gained a great deal of love and respect for my husband that I could not have fathomed as a single person, even on the threshold of our wedding day. As a new bride, I did not know what to expect from my husband, well as I thought I knew him, and I discovered him to be a far better man than I had ever imagined he could be. His gentleness, compassion, spiritual leadership, intellectual vigor, and the strong emotional and physical support he continues to offer me are gifts I don't know how I ever managed without.

Being married is a huge positive in terms of my mental health. After we were married my stress level decreased by a subjective 80%. I have a strong feeling of security and identity that I (didn't realize that I) lacked before. Though marriage brings new responsibilities and stressors, the benefits compensate by far.

In the early months of our union, my husband and I often discussed how marriage did or did not match our expectations of what it would be like. One thing that pleasantly surprised us both is that much of the bliss of our relationship comes from mundane domestic life. In a way, marriage is not so much excitement as emotional and physical security and relaxation. It's a trust that we live in.

Now, we've got a baby to care for and look forward to. For me, this realization is another line that separates me from the child I used to be and the children with whom I used to keep company. Though we kept the secret for a while and enjoyed it between the two of us, eventually my husband and I had to make it public. With that public knowledge, I again feel shy and out of place. It as if I don't know what I am in the social circles I find myself in. At work, little has changed, and with my husband I know exactly how he regards me, but in the public eye, I am ill at ease. It's that subconscious, "Everyone is looking at me," feeling.

The physical changes in my body are no easier to share. How long does it take before people are tired of hearing me say I feel sick? How many naps are acceptable in a single day? How far can I make my wardrobe hide the gradual growth of my child?

From the time we first showed a positive test, both my husband and I have been very concerned about properly caring for this child. (Why else would I take that horrible prenatal vitamin every night). Until we had our first ultrasound at 10 weeks, it was always a question for us as to whether our child was still alive, had implanted, had developed a heartbeat, or would simply disappear in silence to our grief. When we saw our baby's heartbeat, saw him (or her) moving on the ultrasound, I couldn't help crying. I know my husband was relieved as well. We both talk to the baby, whether he can hear us yet or no, and pray for him daily.

On a spiritual level, I know that children in the womb can hear the word of God and have faith and I pray that God would grant faith to our child, and yet I will be so much more reassured when the child is baptized. Till then, I read the Bible, pray, attend church, and speculate to myself on whether the Eucharistic elements cross the placenta. (I think they do.)

This child also brings with him (or her) a new level of anxieties requiring a new level of trust in God. The baby makes me realize that with his advent I am not able to be as independent as I could be before. I need my husband more than ever, both for financial and physical support and for emotional support. If something were to happen to him, it would be difficult for me alone to raise this child in the way we plan to. I am not able anymore to control my body and it's reactions (especially to smells). I am more obviously dependent on God to make it through a work day and pray often during the shift that the nausea will not get worse or my emotions flip out in stressful patient situations. Just ignoring fatigue and finding time to eat the frequent small meals I've found helpful is a delicate balance at work.

And, as I mentioned above, I continue to be concerned about the baby's safety. I know too much, and while my womb is the safest available home for my child, it seems incredibly hostile considering everything that could go wrong. I have recurrent nightmares about miscarriage and other adverse events.

The realization that I am a mother is taking a while to really settle in, though. Apart from the ultrasound, the baby doesn't seem very real to me. I can't feel any movement yet, and my physical changes so far aren't really connected in my mind to a living human being within me. Nevertheless, I continue to hope, pray, and wait for the awkwardness of this transition to pass and for myself to find a place in the ranks of wives and mothers.