The Mystery of Death

“The kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who made a marriage for his son and sent
out his servants to those who were invited to the wedding and they would not come—then
he said to his servants, those who were invited were not worthy” (Matthew 22:2,3,8)

Frequently I’m asked: “Why does God let good people die, and so many sinners live to old age?” I resist replying that God has no need of sinners, coming up with a better response: So that the sinners will have an opportunity to repent and be saved, because God loves the sinners just as He does the saints.

I thought about it when I was waiting a long while in a crowded restaurant for a table to be made ready. Nowadays one need not always mill around the receptionist’s stand and wait to be called. I was given a plastic gadget and told to hold onto it or even put it in my pocket. When my table would be ready, the black circular thing would agitate and make a buzzing noise. A red light would appear, and I then could approach the receptionist and be shown to my table.

In a way our lives are like the waiting time here on earth, the difference being that we don’t really want to be called, because we prefer to postpone the journey to the heavenly banquet. Do we have it right, or are we misinterpreting the Son of God? We fear death, or maybe we are afraid of dying. We are not conditioned to go forward into that stage of existence, even if we claim to have faith in our loving Lord. He told us that we who are sinners know instinctively how to do good to our children. He is comparing us to the heavenly Father who loves us more than any parent on earth loves his or her child.

In the Lord Jesus’ time the religious people of His nation were divided on the matter of whether or not there was an afterlife. The strict Fundamentalists—the Sadducees—found the promise in the Bible to be for life, meaning existence on the earth. The Pharisees taught that humans existed somehow after death, but they were not nearly as positive as Jesus. So many of His parables were like the one quoted above, in which nothing on earth, no experience here, would possibly equal the joy of everlasting life in the Kingdom of God.

St. Paul comprehended Christ’s message so well when he wrote: “We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (II Corinthians 5:1). The bodies we live in and grow with are like tents. Nothing we do can perpetuate them, no matter how effective are the modern means to attempt to keep us from aging. We may try a “makeover” or more than one, if we have the means and the vanity to try holding back time and its effects on us, but common sense should tell us what St. Paul is relating—a wonderful experience is going on in us as we grow weaker in physical strength. If we are in tune with our souls, we can be open to the promptings of the Holy Spirit whispering in us to get ready, for we don’t know when or how, but we shall be called to the reception desk, our table is waiting, and rather than mark time in a holding place, we ought to go forward and claim the seat at the blessed banquet table of the Lord Who created us, watches over us on our journey through this lifetime, and is eager to welcome us to union with Him eternally.