Just keeping up with our American pope in Rome:
On Wednesday, during his weekly general audience, Pope Leo XVI gave a catechesis on “The Resurrection of Christ and the challenges of the contemporary world.” He said, in part:
What is death? Is it truly the last word on our lives? Only human beings ask themselves this question, because only they know they must die. But being aware of this does not save them from death; on the contrary, in a certain sense it “burdens” them compared to other living creatures. Animals suffer, of course, and they realize that death is near, but they do not know that death is part of their destiny. They do not question the meaning, purpose and outcome of life.
Considering this aspect, one might then think that we are paradoxical, unhappy creatures, not only because we die, but also because we are certain that this event will happen, even though we do not know how or when. We find ourselves aware and at the same time powerless. This is probably where the frequent repressions and existential flights from the question of death originate.
Saint Alphonsus Maria de’ Liguori, in his famous work Apparecchio alla morte (Preparation for Death), reflects on the pedagogical value of death, emphasizing that it can be a great teacher of life. To know that it exists, and above all to reflect on it, teaches us to choose what we really want to make of our existence. Praying, in order to understand what is beneficial in view of the kingdom of heaven, and letting go of the superfluous that instead binds us to ephemeral things, is the secret to living authentically, in the awareness that our passage on earth prepares us for eternity.
Yet many current anthropological views promise immanent immortality, theorize the prolongation of earthly life through technology. This is the transhuman scenario, which is making its way into the horizon of the challenges of our time. Could death really be defeated by science? But then, could science itself guarantee us that a life without death is also a happy life?
The event of the Resurrection of Christ reveals to us that death is not opposed to life, but rather is a constitutive part of it, as the passage to eternal life. The Pasch of Jesus gives us a foretaste, in this time still full of suffering and trials, of the fullness of what will happen after death.
And in a letter on archaeology today, he writes:
For us Christians, history is a vital foundation. Indeed, we journey through life in the concrete realm of history, which is the same setting for the unfolding of the mystery of salvation. All Christians are called to ground their lives in the Good News that begins with the Incarnation of the Word of God within human history (cf. Jn 1:14).
. . . Those who know their own history know who they are. They know where to go. They know whose children they are and the hope to which they are called. Christians are not orphans: we have a genealogy of faith, a living tradition and a communion of witnesses. Christian archaeology reveals this lineage and preserves its signs, interpreting them, recounting them and passing them on. In this sense, it is also a ministry of hope, for it shows that faith has already survived difficult times and resisted persecution, crises and changes. Faith has been renewed and regenerated, taking root in new peoples and flourishing in new forms. Those who study the origins of Christianity discover that the Gospel has always had a generative force, that the Church is always reborn, and that hope has never faded.
. . . Christianity was not born from an idea, but through flesh. It was not born from an abstract concept, but through a womb, a body and a tomb. At its most authentic core, the Christian faith is historical, grounded in specific events, faces, gestures and words spoken in a particular language, era and environment. This is what archaeology uncovers and makes tangible. It reminds us that God chose to speak in a human language, to walk the earth and to inhabit places, houses, synagogues and streets.
In some ways, our man from Chicago is just telling us the obvious. Which we have been known to deny — in our own lives and in our politics.