“Now don’t hang on / Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky / It slips away / And all your money won’t another minute buy.”
“Which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life?”
The initial meditation is from Kansas, to which I referred earlier this month from their classic piece of art, “Dust in the Wind.”
The second is from Jesus, who was a bit of an artist himself! It appears twice in the New Testament—Matthew 6:27 and Luke 12:25. That word “span” comes from the Greek word ηλικια (hēlikia). It has dual meanings: a designation to time or space. Regarding time, we get “span of life.” Regarding space, we get the alternate translation, “add a cubit to your stature.” Whichever way we choose, we are powerless.
Indeed, it slips away.
The song by Kansas and now, the statement by our Lord, has occupied me these past few days. It really took hold when we committed my mother to hospice care and then led up to the day of her funeral, Thursday the 22nd. Her burial will be on Tuesday.
It will no doubt continue for some time to play a role in my inner architecture.
Considering the ephemeral nature of life has me once again asking some questions. How do we, a mist which soon dissipates, live? Does our transience bear more meaning or less? Is everything absurd, without significance?
I can understand the sentiment of Qoheleth, the author of Ecclesiastes, who says, “I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun, and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind” (1:14). And towards the end of the book, “Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher; all is vanity” (12:8). There is an almost grudging confession, “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments, for that is the whole duty of everyone. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every secret thing, whether good or evil” (12:13-14).
The Hebrew for “vanity” is הֶבֶל (hebel), which literally means “breath” or “vapor.” Ecclesiastes is a difficult book. Throughout the ages it has been asked why it’s even in the Bible. Perhaps we can see it as yet another statement regarding the fleeting nature of our existence. And no doubt there is a warning in pretending to know more than one really does.
And so, back to the passing of my mother and the lessons (if any!) I have learned.
Maybe there’s been a reminder that I could be gone tonight. The ancient Romans had a term, memento mori. “Remember your death.” For example, a returning conqueror had a slave speak that to him, lest he feel his victory in battle also meant a victory over death. Memento mori has become a spiritual affirmation throughout the ages.
The flip side of memento mori is memento vivere (“remember to live”). They both carry weighty messages. In remembering our death, we are encouraged to remember to live. We can waste our lives in the chase of frivolity. We can own many possessions and forget that our possessions can own us. Remembering to live means living a life of freedom. Freedom can be scary. Living a life of distraction—sleepwalking—can be quite comforting.
Now don’t hang on.