Ironically, death has the acute power to help us see life more clearly.
For a few days five years ago, we as a nation “got it right” — or at least got it more right.
- We weren’t concerned with advertisements: something more important was at hand. Learning about the latest gadget or fashion was far from our minds.
- We ceased, if only for a moment, bowing at the altar of entertainment. Even the revered late night talk shows took a break. Who could laugh at a time like this?
- In short we focused on something much bigger than us.
But time has an uncanny way of diluting that which seemed so palpable at the time. The silently spoken “I’ll never be the same” promises faded as our eyes were once again delighted by consuming fads and frivolity.
But this shouldn’t surprise us; it happens everday.
The Gospel claims it is The Story by which we should understand all of reality. But we are so prideful that we can’t imagine there being a defining and decisive story more important than our own.
And so we reject the Gospel as a result of our being “monopolized and mesmerized by the relative trivia of our own petty existence.” (R. Yarbrough)
We are amusing ourselves to death.