The Biggest Tragedy

As many of you know, my Grandpa Fred passed away early last Sunday -- Easter Sunday, ironically. He hung in there for a long time. It was very difficult but also a genuine privilege to be able to visit him in his last days on Earth. I'm not sure how aware he was of what was happening to him. I suspect that he had at least a vague awareness, like having one of those early-morning dreams and being conscious of the fact that it -is- a dream. He was able to squeeze my hand up until Friday night. He was even able to raise his head slightly and pucker up to give Grandma a kiss. My mom says that during the day on Saturday, he would occasionally raise his arm and slowly move his hand, as if he were patting someone on the head or giving someone a hug. And occasionally he would open his eyes with purpose. Was someone there to see him off? I don't doubt it. It would seem fitting that much like our entry into mortality in which we are both "sent off" from one side and "received" into the other that this would be no different. The question is, which "exit/entrance" is scarier? Undoubtedly, the answer depends on the person.

We don't know how long we lived in our pre-Earth life, but it was likely a very long time. It was all we knew. Although I'm certain that we were given glimpses of what mortality would look like, I doubt that we could truly comprehend it. Like trying to describe what sight or hearing was to a young Helen Keller, my suspicion is that the very concepts of physical pain, hunger and tempation were completely foreign to us. (Perhaps there were spirit-world analogues. If so, I haven't heard or read about them.) But the scariest part had to be the fact that so much hinged on how well we would do once we arrived here. Seriously. It would be akin to having studied for years and years in anticipation of the Final Test only to face the possibility of blowing it in a few short minutes in this earthly Testing Center. In terms of eternal truths, we aren't really learning anything new, here -- rather, if we are paying attention, we are re-learning what we already knew. The environment in which we're doing it is different, and some of the teaching methods are different, but in a very real sense, all we're doing here is being slapped back into consciousness -- back into an awareness of things as they are and always have been.

But back to the question of which "exit/entrance" is scarier: For my part, I have to think that the prospect of coming into this world was vastly more scary than would be leaving it. However, that said, unlike our entrance into this world (previous to which we had a perfect knowledge that it was going to happen, and, as it drew nearer, probably even knew precisely when!), we have no direct empirical evidence now other than our faith, hope and the testimonies of others, that there is a next life. Thankfully, I have that faith, that hope and a reliance on what the prophets have spoken. In my last few days or hours, will I be struck with anxiety and entertain the possibility that I have been wrong or deluded? I certainly hope not, but I suppose that's entirely up to me. Right now, however, I know that my Grandpa Fred has only passed on to a different realm of life. As Alma stated it some 2080+ years ago, "those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow." (Alma 40:12) Grandpa Fred was such a man. Consequently, his death isn't a tragedy. He hasn't disappeared into some ether or been relegated to photographs and memories. He continues to live, differently, while he awaits a glorious resurrection in which "the soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame." (Alma 40:23) Isn't that a wonderful promise?! (Oh, that I were an angel!)

But not everyone will be so lucky. Yes, we know that the resurrection will be universal -- applied to both righteous and wicked -- but that's not the end of the story ... and this is where The Biggest Tragedy takes place. Alma also said, "And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of the wicked, yea, who are evil -- for behold, they have no part nor portion of the Spirit of the Lord; for behold, they chose evil works rather than good; therefore the spirit of the devil did enter into them, and take possession of their house -- and these shall be cast out into outer darkness; there shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and this because of their own iniquity, being led captive by the will of the devil. Now this is the state of the souls of the wicked, yea, in darkness, and a state of awful, fearful looking for the fiery indignation of the wrath of God upon them; thus they remain in this state, as well as the righteous in paradise, until the time of their resurrection." (Alma 40:13-14) Although Alma seems to be referring to the wickedest of the wicked, here, the point is clear: those who are wicked choose to be wicked -- they allow themselves to be wicked. They may not regret their actions or their behavior now, but they will. Yes, like The Just, they will be resurrected, but "where God and Christ dwell they cannot come, worlds without end." (D&C 76:112) Particularly tragic is what will happen to those who have known the truth, been "bathed in the light", made temple covenants and then allowed themselves to be taken captive. Like Cain, they may delude themselves into thinking that God doesn't see them ("Are you talkin' to me?") but they will discover (again, like Cain) that their punishment will be "greater than [they] can bear." Like the Lord said to Martin Harris back in 1830, "Therefore, I command you to repent -- repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore -- how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not." (D&C 19:15) What Martin Harris had done pales in comparison to what Cain did.

Even as I type, there are those who know better but who are going to great lengths to hide their sins and deceive God and man (and not doing a particularly good job at it). These will personally and painfully learn the meaning of D&C 19:15. Are they just stupid?!? Do they honestly believe that they can just "get away" with it? They may have "happiness for a season", but ultimately "wickedness never was [nor can ultimately result in] happiness." (Alma 41:10) Like passengers on a train oblivious to the other train that has been inadvertently diverted onto their own tracks, disaster is imminent. There will be no last minute escape. They will eventually be acutely aware that "the devil will not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell." (Alma 30:60).

What can we do to avoid falling into the trap? King Benjamin sums it up: "But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not." (Mosiah 4:30)

As painful and sorrowful as trials and sickness and suffering might be (and, to be sure, genuine tragedies occur ... often with devastating collateral damage), to allow ourselves to fall under the power of the Adversary is truly The Biggest Tragedy.

Grandpa

I snuck by the care center after work yesterday. My grandfather, Fred Harding, is just 10 days shy of turning 98. He has been a trooper. He contracted pneumonia about a month ago and spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. They've since moved him to a nice care center in the Provo river bottoms. It's hard to see people grow old. He hasn't known me for a couple of years, now. Before that, he occasionally thought I was my brother. That's okay. I'm not offended in the least. The lucidity is waning, as is his ability to fight off the effects of pneumonia. Will this be "it" for him? I don't know. I will be both sad and happy to see him go -- sad for my Grandma Afton (who turned 95 in February) but happy knowing that he is no longer suffering.

As a result of growing up in Memphis, I only got to see him for a week or two a year -- whenever we drove out to Provo for summer vacation. I always enjoyed going to his house. Although Grandma ran the show and took care of us (making homemade egg-nog or taking us to Cook's for ice-cream or Jimba's for hamburgers -- back when I could safely walk down the middle of Provo's Center Street in the middle of the day), Grandpa was a pleasant looming presence in their house. He had a great laugh, too -- very jolly (ironic, since Grandma is the "Jolley"). I remember sitting in the backseat of their cars (usually Pontiacs or Buicks) and not being able to see above the seats in front of me. Of course, nobody wore seat belts back then so I was free to roam around and pop my head up for air if I needed to. Amazingly, if I concentrate, I can smell his cologne or hair tonic. (Grandma always wore perfume, too.) What's more amazing is that he was only in his late 50's / early 60's at the time -- not a long stretch from where I am now. I don't remember him ever being grumpy. Sure, my brother and I probably made plenty of racket, but he never yelled at us or made us feel unwelcome. Sometimes he'd just plop in front of the tv and watch MASH (when it was actually in production). He'd laugh and laugh. That was long before the rest of us caught on.



To be that content in my old age ... that's what I want. To have fought a good fight, done one's best, touched lives -- that's what it's all about. To be at peace sounds so cliché, but that is the gift that God gives those to whom he will later say "Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord." Now let's not be naive about this -- there are those who seem peaceful but who are, instead, resigned. Perhaps they've come to terms with the fact that they haven't done their best and are "okay with it". Perhaps they don't believe in an after-life and, consequently, don't fear that any of their misdeeds' debts require payment. They may be quiet, but they're not at peace. On the other hand, there's a twinkling in the eyes of those people who are genuinely good. There's no pride or self-promotion or guile. People who are genuinely good are members of a special club. While those around them scurry in pointless Brownian ways or kick at the pricks of pointless pursuits, people who are good are able to step outside themselves, breathe, breathe some more, and see life for what it is. They are not without trials or disappointments or even weaknesses, but they see those trials, disappointments and weaknesses as opportunities for growth. Easier said than done, to be sure ... but it's doable! Where these people have the leg up on most of us is in that they try to deal with these transients as just the next hurdle to be overcome and not some punitive retribution or retaliation from an angry God. By being submissive and consistently taking their medicine, their rough edges are polished away and their souls are healed. They become child-like but wise. Nay, dare I say, they become God-like.

Grandpa Harding is a "shoe-in". My parents are, too ... but that's another story.

So, here we go ....

Although I've been blogging for years (via the more in your face method of email), I figured I'd give this baby a try. Less intrusive, more colorful, ... less annoying? Well, we shall see. The hard part for me is to be honest with myself and who I am while trying to "put a good face forward", so to speak. Those who know me well know that I either 1) say what's on my mind (to a fault) or 2) say nothing at all. In the latter case, it's usually because I'm steamed or hurt or hearing the echo of the words "if you can't say something nice..." and thus, trying to avoid collateral damage or predictable repercussions. Couple all those strengths, weaknesses and idiosyncrasies together and you have the work-in-progress that is Brek.

Back when I actually wrote in a journal, I wrote (usually) with the thought that I was not writing for the benefit of anyone else. Instead and in many ways, I was writing for the future me. (At worst, it was just a travelogue of sorts). Alas, I have since learned that I no longer have the luxury (or the privacy) to only write for me. I can't just howl at the moon or complain to the void (/dev/null, as it were) and expect it to disappear. Like bad mistakes, some emails, status updates or comments are built to last. I understand that what I write might actually have some longevity or substance. 'Might actually have some visibility, for Pete's sake. For better or worse, I need to be more disciplined, more controlled and more thoughtful. By tipping my hand to the world and exposing my thoughts, I am of necessity placing a filter on how and what I think. There's back-pressure that forces me to examine myself before clicking 'Send' (or 'Publish Post', in this case). At the very least, the negativity and cynicism which come so easily to me must be relegated to the dungeon. Whether I have the fortitude to go downstairs and beat them with clubs or, instead, to fill their water dishes and pat them on the heads remains to be seen.

That said ...

One of my favorite books in high school was Conrad's "Heart of Darkness". I don't have time to go into an in-depth analysis here, but the main thing I learned from it was that, all things being equal, when a person is plunged into an environment in which there are no social or environmental restraints (i.e. people who actually know him), that person's true colors will ultimately show. Like a delayed-reaction sunburn after a long day of fun in the sun, the red will show up. Thus, social restraints are a good thing. Much like finally accepting your parents' "Add Friend" requests, restraints keep us from running around the jungle in loin-cloths and face-paint and spears chasing after pigs. They keep us from going simple. They help us to engage with entropy. They help us to check our behavior until such time as good behavior becomes so habitual that that is who we are! As the rest of the universe faces heat-death from the ever-increasing tide of disorder, we must fight the power. We must take a stand against that which is wrong -- not just in some subjective sense but in a very absolute sense. Despite the seeming futility of the fight and the ominous wall of black clouds moving toward us (if not fully upon us), good, truth and right will prevail. The fight is fixed. We may get bloodied up in the process, but we will win.

In the meantime, it's a Friday ... and I better get back to work.

P.S. As for the title of the blog ("Crisis? What Crisis?"), it has reference to the title of a Supertramp album back in about 1975. It shows a man sunning himself under a beach umbrella while all around him is chaos, destruction and darkness. Apropos, n'est-çe pas?

P.P.S. This wasn't intended to be interpreted as a political statement -- just good old-fashioned right versus wrong. (added 4/6/2009)

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