The unexpected death of the Australian cricket great, Shane Warne, at 52 years of age provoked a universal reaction of shock and surprise in Australia (and beyond). Senator Kimberly Kitching’s recent death at the same age was similarly surprising, especially to Australia’s political class.
While we have been (barely) coping with a pandemic and natural disasters, where deaths are an unfortunate reality, the death from natural causes of a larger-than-life figure like Warne — an ordinary-bloke-cum-sporting-legend, an ever-present companion to Australian audiences, and seemly untouchable — has really brought home the fragility of life. It has drastically reminded us of our mortality: that we don’t live forever, despite the glossy images constantly put before us in the media.
Death should be treated with great sensitivity, especially with respect for the families in mourning (to whom I send my condolences and prayers). In making these comments, I do not seek to add to their burden but to express something of what people seem to be feeling. The public have been deeply moved by these deaths. It is important to understand what we may be grappling with.
In Western culture, we are usually removed from death. We do not usually experience or witness it directly, in contrast to those who live in non-Western or more traditional societies. We do much to avoid contemplating our mortality. Pop culture is filled with images of young and beautiful people. The elderly and aged barely feature. The achievement of the young, especially in sport, is glorified. Scientific research is conducted to stop the ageing process, while elder abuse and neglect are increasing problems.
As religious practice has declined in the West, death seems to be increasingly difficult to address and confront. Making sense of ageing, sickness and death is rarely attempted in public debate, especially as euthanasia has gained ascendency.
Despite this, death re-emerges to challenge us: is this all there is? What have we done with our lives? Where are we going as individuals and a community? What are we going to make of our lives? How can we make sense of death and contingency (if at all)?
Fundamental existential questions and yearnings continually re-emerge; ones that we often repress or divert with distraction. Blaise Pascal remarked that humans spend much of their lives on diversions and distractions that take them away from the essentials, because to look is often too hard. And he said this before mass advertising, consumerism, television, the internet and social media. Similarly, in his Lenten message for this year, Pope Francis discusses the temptations and addictions of digital media, which can lead us to focus on ourselves and turn away from genuine relationships.
'Death remains a mystery, one which challenges us to value life and take stock of its deepest meaning and purpose.'
The resistance to the Russian invasion in Ukraine, for example, has shown us something of what really matters in life, away from the distractions and diversions. The inspirational solidarity of the Ukrainian people in the face of overwhelming violence and death challenges us to ask: what would I/we fight and die for?
Many of us will, thankfully, not have to fight in war. Yet, we will have to face many personal struggles, whether physical or spiritual. The journey of life — for those privileged to live it — inevitably leads away from the seemingly limitless energy and promise of youth to windy and challenging paths. It is either a journey of growth and depth, or of stagnation and destruction. The journey is not linear but it tends to one of these pathways.
Saint Thomas Aquinas stated that humans tend to go after pleasure, wealth (possessions), power or glory (fame or status) to give their lives meaning and purpose. In fact, we go so far as to worship these values, that is, we put them at the centre of our lives and absolutise them. Yet, these values never make us happy or fulfilled. Instead, we are diminished. We don’t grow but become self-centred and self-focused.
Why do we inflict such pain on ourselves? We do this because we have infinite desires, which we don’t know how to satisfy. Unlike other animals, our instincts for physical survival do not satisfy us. We want to survive but we want more than just survival. Think of your own experience of the things and people you love. We don’t want those good things to ever end. We intensely want them to go on and on. In other words, we desire infinitely.
We want things that never end which will fulfill us completely. These things can be physical but tend to be spiritual, such as peace, joy, happiness, success, and love. Yet, we tend to look in the wrong places to satisfy these infinite desires, become overly attached to what cannot satisfy us and become unbalanced. So, we face a problem as creatures who desire infinitely: where can we find that infinite satisfaction that we desire at the core of our being?
Most people across time have drawn on God and religion to answer this question. However even for those with faith, facing death, especially a difficult or violent one, is one of life’s greatest challenges, provoking anxiety and avoidance. There’s also people of religion and no religious faith who accept death as part of life.
Regardless, death remains a mystery, one which challenges us to value life and take stock of its deepest meaning and purpose. Fundamentally, it tests us to give up the pretence of egotistical control of life as none of us has any power over our ultimate destiny and existence. This reality of life and death has humbled and challenged humanity across time to look beyond itself, into the confounding and wonderful mystery that is our existence, as many of us are still doing.
Joel Hodge is a lecturer in theology at the Australian Catholic University and a Jesuit novice.
Main image: (Darrian Traynor / Getty Images)