The Sacred Art of Dying with the Saints
The Little Poor Man whispered, “Welcome, Sister Death!” What gracious words, as to a friend, even in the hour of his passing!
St Francis of Assisi loved all nature – animate and inanimate, animals and birds, spirits and powers, even life and death – all creation shared in the same Divine Largesse of Jesus Christ. As fellow creatures of God, they were all his kin, and he greeted them with hospitality – the healthy and beautiful people as well as lepers and “…the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind” (Luke 14:12-14).
Even the littlest delights of life were not excluded as Francis faced mortality. According to his biographer, Tommaso da Celano, Francis longed for Mostaccioli – sweet, almond cookies – that he had once enjoyed. This was conveyed to a wealthy benefactor, Lady Jacoba de Settesoli, who hurried from Rome to bring the delicious treat to her dying friend.
Although Fra Angelico is officially the patron saint of artists, especially painters, St Francis chose the artistry of being. Abiding constantly in the Incarnate Word, Il Poverello’s singing and exuberance of life showed Christians of all ages the Ars Vivendi – the art of living – as well as of dying, the Ars Moriendi. Another great artist of the sacred way, St Augustine of Hippo, directed the faithful: “Trust the past to the mercy of God, the present to His love, and the future to His providence.” Whatever the form of sacred artistry, those who are disciples share one communion and aim: that Jesus Christ be known and loved. Moreover, the same tools of resolution are employed by those great artists and saints who consecrate the world itself to God: poverty, charity, simplicity, meekness, humility, and love of being despised, for the sake of the Lord Jesus.
My late husband was an educator and poet, as well as a husband and father. The sacred art of living mattered to him, as it does to me, but I am no artist. After forty years of creative tension, we were blessed to be together when the hour of final division came. His was a hard death after long suffering and illness. Even so, because Christ was so close to us both in that moment, his passing was the zenith of our married life together.
A great teacher to the very end, my late husband’s final word, barely audible, was “Love!” Shortly before his end, he was no longer aware of familiar surroundings. Confused and agitated, he struggled to get out of bed. With his best professorial voice, he insisted: “Let me get up! I must stand up for the King!” Then, he added enigmatically: “…And I won’t be your king, unless you let me get up!” Our eldest daughter answered, equally cryptically but with gentle authority: “Dad, you must lie back down now. Jesus is the King, and He is coming to you. You’re supposed to lie down, just quietly, and wait for Him.” Staring vacantly for a moment, he finally spoke, still in a commanding but fainter voice: “Alright, then. So be it; we’ll let the Story dictate the action.” And with this final self-directive, he lay back down and waited. It did not take long before Sister Death came to call.
The terrifying black hole of death has been too often romanticized; it is not easy to die. Nor is it easy to accept the love of Jesus, from whom people find courage to live! The courageous saints conformed their unique lives according to the pattern of Christ Jesus and his teaching. As living manifestations of the Beatitudes, they embodied that mysterious art form of dying to self. They show us how to live joyously in the Kingdom of God, and we tremble in our hope to join them.
Each generation of the Church’s Faithful builds cumulatively upon the model given us by the earlier saints. Drawing on their presence and example, all people now living belong to the very real Communion of Saints and draw strength and inspiration through their intercessory prayers and sacred artistry. With what gratitude we return the blessing with the familiar prayer: “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.”
Ruth D. Lasseter
SDC Associate
Indiana, USA
