On Practising the Art of Dying Well

“For what folly can be imagined greater than to neglect that Art, on which depend our highest and eternal interests, whilst on the other hand we learn with great labour, and practice with no less ardor, other almost innumerable arts, in order to either preserve or to increase perishable things?”
—St. Robert Bellarmine, The Art of Dying Well (preface)

INTRODUCTION

If life is but a railroad journey with the final station, death, then at 93.7 I can hear the conductor calling, “final stop, Death, with carriers to ….” So, gathering up my gear and preparing to get off the train in good order, I’m studying a book my spiritual director gave me, “The Art of Dying Well,” by St. Robert Bellarmine.1 In addition to St. Robert’s guide, the Holy Spirit has drawn my attention to other instructions (homilies, the internet), which I’ll bring into the discussion as appropriate.

In "The Art of Dying Well," written in his retirement, St. Robert set forth 16 precepts. I’ll focus on the first two:

1. to die well, one must live well;
2. one must die to the world;

Let’s turn to the first.

LIVING WELL TO DIE WELL

“We must acknowledge that it is a most dangerous thing to deter till death our conversion from sin to virtue.”
—op.cit., Chapter 1.

Although St. Robert says that the best way to die well is to live well from an early age, he still gives hope for those who come lately to Jesus. The Good Thief is the example St. Robert cites to show that one can live well, even if the decision to do so comes late. As he says:

“But, even supposing he had spent the greater part of his days in wickedness, yet the other part of his life was spent so well, that he easily repented of his former sins and gained greatest graces.”
—ibid.

And to make this point general, St. Robert quotes from the parable of the workers in the vineyard:

“The good thief then appeared to ‘have been one of those who came last into the vineyard, and yet he received a reward greater than the first.’”
—ibid.

Since I came to Catholic faith late in life at 65, I find this encouraging. But there is still the question: how should one “live well?” St. Robert addresses this question in later chapters, but I should like to set forth my own view. Clearly, one must avoid sin, go to Mass, go to Confession, etc. However, if I take Catholic teaching seriously, I must do more inwardly than satisfying such external requirements.

REHEATING THE SOUL

For example: in his homily on the Pharisees who are clean outside and dirty inside (Matt 23:23-26), Fr. Andiy Egargo told us that Jesus wants us to to do more than they did, more than observing the letter of the Law. One must remove hate and anger from the heart, and by example, show that “to love your enemies” is the way to live. So, watching the news I can’t cuss out advocates of abortion “rights” or tell liberal politicians (and clerics) to “go to Hell.” I have to pray for their conversion, even if in a special way, as Fr. Bernard Groeschel did for Madonna: that she be converted and go to a secluded nunnery.

I have also listened to what the Marian Fathers of the Immaculate Conception tell us in St. Faustina’s message of Divine Mercy. The message: although the Divine Mercy of Jesus cannot be exhausted, one must seek it actively, as explained in St. Faustina’s Diary. In one of pages from the Diary, Jesus tells St. Faustina

"My soul suffered the most dreadful loathing in the Garden of Olives because of lukewarm souls"
—Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, 1228

So, in order to “live well” I have to reheat my soul. Not sit at Mass thinking outside the liturgy; not recite the Rosary and wonder about the spider on the wall or what’s for dinner tonight; actively seek the Divine Mercy of Jesus.

If that is what I must do to “live well,” what should I do to “die to the world?”

DYING TO THE WORLD

"We cannot in any way live to God, unless we first die to the world.”
—op. cit, Chapter II

According to St. Robert, in order to die to the world we have to be in the world, but not of the world; we have to avoid the concupiscence of the eyes and of the flesh, the unbridled desire for “things;”

“...the wicked are not only in the world, they are also of the world, and therefore not the love of God, but ‘the concupiscence of the flesh’ reigneth in their hearts, that is, luxury and the concupiscence of the eyes.”
—ibid.

Even if we do not seek luxury, our highest love should not be for the ordinary things of life, children, spouse, possessions, but for God. St. Robert urges us to follow the directive of St. Paul:

“...they should be as little affected by earthly things as if they did not belong to them; that they should love their wives only with a moderated love; that if they wept for the loss of children or their goods, they should weep but a little as if they were not sorrowful...in fine, the apostle orders us to live in the world, as if were strangers and pilgrims, not citizens.”
—ibid.

Well, this goal is certainly difficult to achieve for many of us. Think of all the 12 Step programs for those of us who love substances, things and people inordinately. Is there no narrow gate through which we can pass to heaven? Yes there is, and, as scripture says, the gate, the way, is Christ. The transition must be to μισεω, “miseo,” (love less than, translated as “hate”) one’s father, mother, spouse, goods (Luke 14:26) and love God more. And in doing so our love for people will not be less in itself; rather there will a greater love for God. Rather than only running a 5k for those we love, we will also run a marathon for God.