Then I remember, death comes before the rolling away of the stone

It was a throwaway line in a talk by a speaker whose name I have now forgotten: “We feel more moral, more right, more cheaply than ever before.” It was a comment on the shrill nature of much public discourse, and how easily we feel moral because we have expressed a noble sentiment, though expressing it has cost us nothing. Although not necessarily the intention of the speaker, it set me thinking about spiritual and moral formation, and how we learn and grow in life. And then I stumbled upon this magnificent conclusion to Mary Oliver’s poem At Black River “Then I remember, death comes before the rolling away of the stone.”

Like the best poetry (and Mary Oliver is one of the greats) it can be interpreted in many ways. In my thinking, it speaks of allowing our deepest and saddest moments to shape us. There is no Easter Sunday without a crucifixion Friday. Trying to bypass the excruciating death of Friday and the directionless waiting of Easter Saturday, is a violation of the gospel story. Something takes place before resurrection – before the rolling away of the stone. A Christian faith that claims an empty tomb but has no cross, is simply not Christian. True, it is Jesus who walks the way of the Cross and bears our sin and sorrows, but this same Jesus urges us to take up our cross and to follow him.

To acknowledge that death comes before the rolling away of the stone means that we do not try to deny or hide from life’s pain. It alerts us of the folly of short cuts to sanctification or cheap paths to holiness. In his book Markings, once UN General Secretary Dag Hammarskjold wrote: “In our age, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.” Deciding upon a path for action can be difficult, and requires a close examination of our motivation. Is our desire to do good or to look good? At times we confuse the two.

If death comes before the rolling away of the stone it means that disappointments and setbacks are not the enemy. They can be a means of grace – a way of Falling Upward, to cite Richard Rohr’s helpful book.

If death comes before the rolling away of the stone it means that pain has a role in our growth. Rather than something to run from, it implies it is the friend who in time will lead us to the empty tomb.

And the fear of pain or failure should not prevent us from being full participants in life. For as Mary Oliver says in another of her amazing poems When Death Comes.

When it’s over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Wow, that’s a sentiment to ponder: “I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

As always, nice chatting…

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