July always reminds me of my father. It was the month of his birthday, the 15th. We would be in Sea Isle City, New Jersey by then. We, our Mother and those children still living at home, would have come to the shore place sometime near the end of June. We were constantly reminded, between duties about the house and beach time, of our obligation to prepare something to recite for our Father’s birthday. Each day our Mom would check to see how we were proceeding with our memorization of a prayer, a verse, a song, or whatever which we would need to recite on that day.
The living room at the shore house was large with a fireplace on the wall to your left as you entered. Opposite the fireplace against the other wall were the steps to the second floor. They ascended towards the wall, about three steps, and then there was a platform about 3 feet square. It made a small stage. Here is where we would perform. I remember having to recite one of the prayers from the Mass in Latin. Another time I recall singing a song with the words, ”Look out! Look out for Jimmy Valentine, he’s a pal of mine an’ he’ll steal your heart away!” I think there really was a Jimmy Valentine, a second-story man or safecracker whose exploits and antics caught the public’s fancy and someone created the song.
The show was another means of our mother, the teacher, making sure we continued to learn something even though we were now out of school. I can’t say I did the same with my children but we did manage to get some time at the shore, usually in Avalon, NJ and had road trips to various places. We did encourage reading but can’t recall any of the five boys following our encouragement. The girls did it even without encouragement.
This July 2005 will be remembered as when I started to return to more normal behavior after eight weeks of recovery from the aorta surgery. I was given permission to drive once again, thus making it possible for June and I to go out without calling on a friend to drive us. This is so because June doesn’t drive. I began a program of physical rehabilitation this past week. It has had a great effect in removing the usual tiredness, though there are still days when I don’t seem to get enough rest. I am looking forward to the exercise and its effects and hope by the end of July to feeling like a new man. These are minor inconveniences when placed against the life saving nature of the surgery. It is a constant reminder of the gift of “life” and how grateful we should be to the Lord for letting it happen.
With that thought in mind, life as a gift from the Lord, it was disappointing to say the least to read an opinion writer praising the legal euthanasia law in Oregon. Under the law if two doctors confirm that the patient has less than six months to live he or she may obtain a barbiturate that will cause death. It is placed in a liquid. It is drunk and within five minutes the patient goes into a coma and dies within two hours. He, the writer, was specifically attacking the Bush Administrations attempt to remove the law by having Federal prosecution of any doctor who prescribed the barbiturate. The issue is now on the way to the U.S. Supreme Court with arguments scheduled for the Fall. The columnist argues that since the law has been in effect in Oregon since 1998, after two referendums, the Bush administration should not attempt to dislodge it because of their belief that it is legal suicide.
The sacredness of life as a gift is demeaned by euthanasia. It is easy to create sorrow and cry for relief of those suffering from death throes. What could be more Christian and human than compassion? Unfortunately such compassion blinds us to the fact that we are permitting suicide and allowing people to end the life they were given and which was not earned. Where did life come from? Did we have any say in the fact that we are now alive? No we did not – so why should we have a ‘right’ to destroy it? We don’t, but compassion makes us believe we do. I think every possible painkiller should be allowed even drugs to alleviate the pain. To allow suicide is beyond our realm of rights.
The patient in this article exclaims, “By God…” but not meaning that it is by God that he is here. It was only as an epitaph to the rest of his assertion, “…I want to go out on my own terms”. He apparently doesn’t believe that ‘by God’ he is here in the first place so that he, not God, can decide when and how he shall go out. It was by God’s terms we are here so why does it seem strange that by His terms we should leave? The opinion writer states, “I’m just sorry the John Ashcrofts of the world want to dictate not only how you live but also how you die. There is nothing more personal, other than childbirth, than passing on” The thought that you had no choice over your birth doesn’t even enter his thinking.
Did we have any part in that decision? Even if you tried to boil the body down to genes and bones you still can’t explain or kill the state called consciousness or spirit we all are given. So why is it strange that we should have no part, other than diminishing the pain, or feelings, in our leaving?
My recent brush with death makes me appreciate even more the gift of life and that the gift giver will decide, not I, when that gift will end. I think euthanasia a nice cover word for ‘suicide’. Using a Greek word is like the using of French words on menus, like escargot, that is to cover its real meaning. Now would you really order “snails” if that were the way they were presented on the menu?
Around the same time this opinion appeared there was an inspirational story about a twenty-year-old girl born with cystic fibrosis. It was entitled
“She‘ll Take Life”. It is about a twenty-year-old who was born with cystic fibrosis. She went on as a teenager to win four American Junior Golf Association titles between 2000 and 2002,played for the 2002 U.S. Junior Ryder Cup and Southern Cup Teams, and with sister Whitney, helped Chamberlain High win State team titles in 1999 and 2000. She also played with Whitney and the University of Florida. She is a talented young woman, who along with her golfing talents received a 1340 on her SATs. She also has the ability to play Beethoven’s Fifth on the piano. Five months ago she almost died in a Denver hospital fighting Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome, pneumonia, and a yeast infection in her blood stream. It was reported, “… even when nurses tried to murder her (note: not called “euthanasia’ or mercy killing but what it is murder) by dripping poison in her IV, and another nurse kidnapped and harassed her in a hotel room, she never thought it would be better to be dead.” ( I have no further information on the this incident and it is as it was reported in the newspaper in this story)Her great achievement for 2005 was to walk down the aisle at her sister’s Whitney’s wedding as ‘maid of honor’. She did it. She was asked, “Do you ever get mad as hell? What do you think when you watch those girls you beat fighting it out for the U.S. Open?” She admits she does wonder what might have been, but it doesn’t make her sad. Then she was asked “What about God?” She answered, “I never say, ‘why me?’ I took God in my heart when I was 7 years old and ever since then I’ve known that he has a plan and I know I am part of that plan. Sometimes I say, ‘I don’t like this’ But I always believe everything is going to be okay. Somehow I feel that this is all a blessing in disguise…It’s not that I’m waiting to die. I’m not scared of it. Right now I’m just enjoying myself. I’m enjoying every second. Bottom line is that l love life.”
What a difference the miracle of faith brings to a life. How easy it is to appreciate who controls our life. She could, out of so called compassion, be considered a subject for euthanasia—but contrary to the patient in Oregon she would never choose death, she’ll take life even as tough as it is. We admire such courage and love, and feel only sorrow for those who believe they should have a ‘right” to suicide, to end it.
The problem is that for most everything they know came to them through their senses. They examine things based on the experience these senses have given them. They can say, “God is everywhere” They can see his beauty in creation. But they still can’t experience God or a concept like there is life after death. I read a fascinating analogy offering to explain this dilemma. Suppose you could talk to a babe in a mother’s womb? Would your explaining what lies ahead make her (or him) wish to leave the warm security of the womb? Probably not. The babe knows what the life in the womb is by her senses but not what will happen on birth. She or he would be skeptical of what is beyond the security of womb or that it even existed. We fear life after death in the same way as a baby fears life after birth. The author continued, “That’s because our situations are basically the same. We’re still in a womb, still being gestated, except now we call it aging. And inevitable is the day when a new pelvic thrust, death, will awaken, in the deep recesses of our minds and bodies, the memory of just such a push many years earlier. And, as years earlier, a dim passage will promise a new world and, just as the first time, we won’t have much to say in the matter. We’ll have to trust that being born is what’s best for us … Birth and death require the same act of faith, a trust that a fuller life and more meaningful contact with the mother awaits us beyond the womb.”
It is true ‘all analogies limp’ and never fully answer the riddle, but this one struck me as being full of truth and understanding.
Until next time, Pax tecum!