Who Made Who

Seeing death as simply sleeping with the angels

07/01/2018

Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24 God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living. For he fashioned all things that they might have being; and the creatures of the world are wholesome, and there is not a destructive drug among them nor any domain of the netherworld on earth, for justice is undying. For God formed man to be imperishable; the image of his own nature he made him. But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who belong to his company experience it.

I hate to admit this in public but I am a fan of the heavy-metal rock band called AC/DC. Their songs are not always very moral or even especially musical, but I fell in love with them when I heard their hit song, “Back in Black.” I play that song whenever I return from vacation and put on my black clergy clothes. Now you know the real Fr. John.

The band also released a very thought-provoking song in 1984 called, “Who Made Who.” The lyrics leave the listener pondering not only the relationship between man and technology (which is what the song is ostensibly about) but also the broader question of the relationship between someone who creates and what they make. Whenever you create something you become inevitably entangled in your creation to such an extent that it becomes difficult to tell “who made who.” Listen to the refrain from that song: “Who made who, who made you? / Who made who, ain’t nobody told you? / Who made who, who made you? / If you made them and they made you / Who picked up the bill and who made who? / Ain’t nobody told you?”

The Renaissance painter Michaelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel, his creation, but didn’t that painting also sort of “make” Michaelangelo very famous? Everyone has heard of Beenthoven’s 9th symphony, but didn’t the sublime beauty of that symphony also “make” Beethoven a household name? When I published a book of homilies, a friend said that you reveal a little of yourself through your writing. Now some people know me only through my creation. Whatever we create something, that new creation also creates us a little bit and we wonder, “who made who?”

Our scriptures today wrestle with the question of death. You might say: the biblical authors pose the question to death, “Who made you?” The Old Testament book of Wisdom gives a clear and categorical answer: “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.” God did not create death because he does not want to get tangled up with it; he doesn’t want to dirty his hands with death. A few verses later, we see who is responsible for death. We read: “But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who belong to his company experience it.” In other words, death was ushered into the world by the devil, and therefore, death and the devil are hopelessly entangled and entwined. Sadly, death also entangles all those who walk in the company of the devil, those who do evil.

This explains why Jesus treats death so differently than his contemporaries did. When Our Lord enters the room of Jairus’ deceased daughter, he simply says: “Why all this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” Jesus does not cower or cringe or cry in the face of death. Why? Because he had nothing to do with its creation, and therefore it has nothing to do with him; it cannot touch him. Jesus came, rather, to disentangle man from death, as Psalm 124:7 says: “We escaped with our lives like a bird from the fowler’s snare; the snare was broken and we escaped.” If we ask the specter of death, “Who made you?” the inspired authors of scripture would answer: “Death came from the devil, not from God, and thus eternally entangled the devil and his followers with death.” Whatever we create, in a sense, also creates us whenever we ask, who made you?

My friends, how do you look at death? The way we look at death says not only something about death itself but also something about us, that is, it reveals in whose company we walk. Sometimes we look at death as our greatest enemy, and try to do everything to postpone it or forget about it altogether. It’s just too scary. I was talking to an altar server before mass one day and asked him, “Do you know how old I am?” He suspected a trap, so he guessed low: “29 years old?” I said, “That’s very close; I’m 48.” Then I asked, “Do you think that’s old?” He answered very diplomatically, “Not really.” I probed a little further, “Do you think you’ll ever be 48?” He immediately shot back: “No way!” He dropped all diplomacy and gave me an honest answer. He couldn’t imagine being as old as 48, and he certainly couldn’t imagine death. That’s how most of us think about death, that is, we don’t, because it’s too scary.

But how differently Jesus looked at death, as little more than sleep. In fact, he got quite perturbed with the people making a lot of commotion about death. Now, I don’t mean to sound judgmental or critical of someone who is overcome with sorrow when a loved one passes away. I felt that grief when my nephew died. That’s very normal and a sign of deep love and loss. Nevertheless, as we walk in the company of Christ, a slow but steady change comes over us, especially regarding death. Fear gives way to faith and everything and everyone begins to look a little different. We are beginning to see as God sees, that’s the definition of faith. When faith fills our eyes, death does not seem so devastating, but rather more like a long afternoon nap.

So, if we asked death, “Who made you?” The scriptures resoundingly answer: death comes from the devil and entangles him and his followers for eternity. But those who keep the company of Christ, death will only seem like sleep. Whenever I go to someone’s home for supper and it’s time for the kids to go to bed, I hug them and whisper in their ear, “Sleep with the angels; and don’t let them push you out of bed.” That’s what death feels like for a Christian.

Praised be Jesus Christ!