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Coping with Loss: Bargaining
A Sermon Given
by the Reverend Roger Fritts
on February 20, 2000
at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
Thanks to the Internet, I can sit at home with my computer and
bargain to extend the years of my life. All I need to do is go to the
Northwestern Mutual Life web site and play what they call the
"Longevity Game." I enter a few facts about myself and their web
site computer tells me how long I can expect to live, using
actuarial tables.
For example, when I tell the computer my age and my sex, it tells
me that I can expect to live until I am seventy-seven years old.
Because my blood pressure is normal, I gain three years. When I
fill in my height and weight however, I find that if I were to lose
weight, I could extend my life by one year. Filling in my family
history, including the fact that neither of my parents had cardiovascular problems before the age of sixty gives me an additional two
years. However, the fact that I do not exercise, drops my life
expectancy by three years. If I were a very active exerciser, I could
add three years to my life. If I am under a great deal of stress, the
length of my life drops by one year. On the other hand, the fact
that I have had very few automobile accidents gives me another
year of life expectancy. Just by wearing a seat belt I add one year
to my life. By not smoking, I gain two years of life. By almost
never drinking alcoholic beverages, I add an additional year to my
life. Because I never use illegal drugs, I can add an additional year.
On the other hand, the fact that I consume saturated fats takes two
years off my life expectancy.
Altogether, this tells me that the average person with my characteristics has a life expectancy of eighty-five years. However, by
making changes in my life style, I could add ten years to my
average life expectancy.
When we turn down a chance to smoke a cigarette, when we
moderate our drinking, when we avoid high fat foods, when we put
on our seat belt, we are making a deal with our bodies. When we
spend half an hour each day exercising, we are saying to our
bodies, "I forgo short-term pleasure. In exchange, I expect to have
a longer life." This is bargaining.
In a short, three-page chapter in her book On Death and Dying,
Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross describes one seriously ill woman who
wanted to attend the wedding of her son. She promised the medical
staff that she would be no more bother, she would die quietly, if
only she could attend her first son's wedding. With the help of the
medical staff of doctors and nurses, the woman, who was in great
pain and discomfort, learned self-hypnosis. This enabled her to be
comfortable for several hours. The day before the wedding, she left
the hospital looking elegant. No one would have believed her real
condition. She was "the happiest person in the whole world" and
looked radiant.
When she returned from the hospital after the wedding, the woman
looked tired and exhausted. However, before Dr. Kübler-Ross could
say hello, the woman said, loudly and clearly, "Now don't forget,
I have another son!"
We bargain when we a make promise to God, or to our bodies, or
to other people. We agree to change our lives, and in exchange we
hope to live a little longer. I have seen this process of bargaining
actually extend the lives of several people.
I remember a friend named Jim. Jim and I first met in speech class
when we were in high school. Later we attended the same college.
I studied political science and he majored in mass communications.
The son of a divorced Polish couple, Jim's dream was to produce
documentaries for radio and television, while writing poetry on the
side. All that came to a halt in the 1970s when doctors diagnosed
him with cancer.
Jim made a deal with his body, with life, and with God that he
would not die until he published a book of poetry. To pay for the
printing, he secured a small bank loan. The forty-three page book
was ready a few months later. Our speech teacher had taught us in
class never to begin a speech with an apology. Nevertheless, when
I received a copy of the book from Jim he confessed that he knew
it was not as mature as he had hoped it would be. Still, he
explained, it was the best he could do. Jim filled the book with
erotic images of lilac scents and flowing hair, the thoughts and
longings of a man in his early twenties.
"Why" Jim asked in one poem,
Why always out in a crowd
Of a few hundred people
Do I see the face
I most want to see
Beside me, alone, in the dark?
In another he wrote,
As you sat
intensely listening
to the rain
about us glistening
I thought each drop
was softly christening
dreams as they were born.
Jim published the book of poems in March. In September I visited
him in the hospital. Weak from his illness, he talked with me about
his renewed religious faith. I mentioned the book of poetry. He
said:
I needed to do that book before I could let go of my
life as I had dreamed it, a life of work with a career
of making documentaries. After I finished the book,
I moved away from worldly goals toward a life
more focused on religion and the spirit.
He died a few days later at the age of twenty-six.
I encountered this process of bargaining again ten years later when
I was serving as a minister in the midwest. One young person who
had grown up in the congregation was a talented pianist. Christian
was in his early twenties when he auditioned for the famous
Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, held every five years in Moscow.
This was the competition that the American, Van Cliburn had won
a few years before, at the height of the cold war. Pianists from all
over the world auditioned, but the judges invited only twenty to
come to Moscow. In the spring of 1990 Christian was one of the
twenty invited to participate in the competition. Working with
Christian, church members planned a piano concert at the church.
We would take a collection at the concert to raise funds to pay for
Christian's trip to Moscow.
He was a private, shy young man. Few in the congregation knew
that for Christian this piano competition was a bargain that he had
made with his body and with God. Although he looked healthy,
Christian was seriously ill with AIDS. His goal was to go as far as
he could in the Tchaikovsky Competition before the virus took his
life.
The design of the church was such that the church offices were in
a balcony that overlooked the sanctuary. Some nights that spring
I would work late in my balcony office. Christian would come
into the church in the evening to practice on the grand piano. He
and I would be the only people in the building as he practiced. I
would sit in my balcony office working and listening as his
beautiful, haunting music filled the dark sanctuary. This beautiful
music gave him a goal for which to live.
The night of the piano concert at the church, an overflowing
audience filled the sanctuary. The music stirred emotions the way
only great music can do. We raised over $5,000, which we gave as
a gift to Christian. I watched the performance and I looked out on
the audience, knowing that very few knew of the performer's
illness.
Christian went to Moscow. He did not win the Tchaikovsky
Competition. Later his mother told me that he had played better at
the church concert than he had in Moscow. Perhaps that evening,
playing for his friends and family was more important than playing
before strangers half a world away.
Seven months later in that same sanctuary we gathered again for
Christian's memorial service. He had not escaped death, but he had
made a bargain that had given beauty and power to the last year of
his life. A believer in life after death, a few days before he died
Christian said that while some people expect Jesus to greet them
after they died, his goal was to be greeted by the pianist Franz
Liszt.
In the 1990s I encountered this process of bargaining from another
remarkable man, also a musician. John was the music director of
the church I served in the midwest. In December of 1987 his
doctor told him that he had hepatitis and the AIDS virus. Given the
condition of his liver, the doctor estimated that he had about six
months to live.
Like Christian, for a time John kept his medical diagnosis secret
from all but a few friends. However, he set a musical goal for
himself. He decided to have the church choir perform Beethoven's
Mass in C before he died. Besides persuading the church choir to
do the work, he also needed to raise enough money to hire a 28
piece orchestra. John set to work. Without telling anyone he had
six months to live, he talked to the choir about how much they
would enjoy singing a Beethoven mass. He visited music patrons
in the congregation asking for financial support. This process took
eighteen months. The concert was a splendid success.
Still alive, John decided that before he died, he wanted to direct
Gabriel Faure's Requiem. In announcing this in a letter to the choir,
John explained that music critics consider Faure's Requiem one of
the most beautiful of all requiems. He said, "Its message is one of
happy deliverance, not mournful passing." It took another year to
raise the funds for another orchestra. It took weeks of rehearsals to
prepare the choir for the Faure Requiem. In his mind, John made
a bargain with his body and with his higher power that his health
would hold until after the performance.
When the concert was over, John quickly set another goal for his
life. This performance of the poetry of e. e. cummings set to
music, wasn't until a year later. When this concert was over, he set
as his next goal a special concert held as a fund raiser for the
AIDS Alternative Health Project in Chicago. The AIDS Alternative
Health Project was a clinic that included nutritional counseling and
massage therapy for persons who were HIV positive.
Each year John set a new goal for himself. When he achieved one
goal, he would then plan another project. He never planned more
than a year in advance, because that was as far as he could trust his
health. In this way he continued to live a productive life until his
death, nine years after the doctor told him that he had six months
to live.
Each of us, no matter what our age or health, are constantly
making deals with our bodies and (if we believe in a higher power)
with God. We say to our bodies: "I will feed you and let you rest
in a little while. All I ask of this heart and this head is that you
cooperate and help me get through the project that I am working
on right now." We often push ourselves, trying to achieve great
things within the limits of time each of us has.
What Dr. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross called "bargaining" is really a
description of how to live well. I invite each of us today to think
about what we want to achieve before we die. When we are living
fully, we are setting goals for ourselves. When we achieve our
goals, we set new goals continuing the process for as long as we
are able. In this process we extend our lives . . . to attend a
wedding . . . to celebrate Christmas again . . . to finish a book. . .
. to take a trip . . . to see the flowers in the spring . . . In our
awareness of death we are less likely to miss the opportunities of
living. Our consciousness of death can turn our thoughts to life. It
can cause us to push aside our petty grievances, our petty fears and
our petty desires, so that we can focus on the joys that are right
before our eyes:
The taste in our mouth of a fresh orange
The touch of rain against our skin
The stars in the night sky
The voice of a child
The smell of the trees and the grass
Death awareness can be a catalyst that gives life depth and
intensity. Death encourages us to set goals and to live life authentically. Our awareness of death frames our time on earth. Awareness
of our death motivates us to fasten our seat belts and to watch what
we eat. More important, it is the motivation for our deepest
reflections and our highest achievements.
cluuc@his.com
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