The logic of life after death

Our lives cannot be pointless

Sister Catherine looked at Bill and could see that he was intensely interested in the discussion. His big, kind face was looking at her earnestly. She guessed he had suffered the loss of someone dear to him.
‘Over the years Bill, I have been with many people as they approached death. When people know that they are dying, and have time to come to terms with it, they often ask themselves the big questions of life – the ones they may have shied away from before. Questions like – what’s it all been for? And when people reflect on their lives it is not the big achievements that they value – like the big job, or the big house. No. What they value above all are the relationships they had with those they loved, and the acts of kindness they experienced in their lives. Sometimes it takes the imminence of death to make people see what really is important to them. And then they say, now that I have learned this wouldn’t it be such a waste if this knowledge was put to no use? In other words, the lessons of life are pointless unless they form the basis of what happens next. Therefore there must be a next or our lives now are pointless.’

From The Domini Conspiracy, chapter 82, page 264.

Self-sacrifice

The Raiders

At dawn they landed,
In six long ships
It had been two days since they had left their island fortress,
Not yet this summer had they raided so far south,
Surprise would be theirs.

And thus it was.
By the time the alarm was raised it was too late to mount a defence.
Without mercy the raiders destroyed all in their path.
Many roused by the clamour perished before they could leave their burning homes.

Mothers wailed as husbands and sons were slain before their eyes and daughters subjected to torture and humiliation until their young lives could suffer no more.

The defence of one simple house on the edge of the village lasted but minutes as the raiders destroyed its door under a crushing rain of blows.

Inside stood a man, his arms outstretched to protect a woman and two young children standing quietly behind him.
He had no weapon.

As they were about to strike, one amongst the raiders looked at this little group, defenceless yet quietly defiant, and saw in them himself and his own family, which he had left behind across the northern sea.
Something touched his heart.

He was first to leap forward as often before,
but this time not to strike the first blow.
Instead he stopped and turned to face his fellow raiders.
He stood between them and the little group.
‘Enough,’ he said.

They knew they would have to slay him first.
For a moment they faltered.
Then they pressed forward.

He fought with courage and great strength but in the end was overwhelmed
and was slain along with those he had defended.

The little group lay together, strangely at peace.
Their expressions showed not fear, nor anger, nor despair,
But instead – pride, and hope, and love.

This is a story about self-sacrifice. I wrote it originally for an old friend. He believed that human beings are essentially selfish, only capable of self-sacrifice when family or loved ones are concerned – and therefore the situation described in The Raiders could never happen. I maintained that human beings are capable of such self-sacrifice and that, although they may be uncommon, such incidents are indications of something profoundly important about our nature.

Sharing life's experiences

A child’s open gaze, trusting and clear
The scent-filled summer evening air
A blackbird’s memory captured song
All things of which life’s love is borne
But greater still is this love measured
When with your partner, jointly treasured.

From The Domini Conspiracy, chapter 75, page 241.