Summons to Life

MY FIRST FRIEND CAME from a rather conventional Christian background, against which he revolted early in his life. The narrowness of its theology appalled him, for he was a universalist at heart. He could not accept the traditional image of a personal God who could be bribed and placated by eloquent prayers, and had special regard for those whose theology was right. For many years he was a seeking, reverent agnostic. He was a scientist by training with special knowledge of chemistry and biology, and he worked with a well-known firm of industrial chemists for many years. His work took him to many places and countries, and the starvation he saw in vast areas of the world filled him with indignation. A man of innate compassion, he grieved over the world's sufferings and dedicated himself to the relief of world hunger, a concern that remained with him to the time of his death.

He had once to visit Tibet during his duties in China, a country that fascinated him. One night as he strolled by the shores of a beautiful lake overshadowed by high mountain peaks, a stillness came over him. The peace of God touched his soul, and he was at last given the directive that his life had previously been awaiting. He dedicated himself at that very moment to God's service, offering himself unconditionally to mankind. Then he left the Far East and returned home.

At once disaster struck. His wife with whom he had never had a real relationship, fell ill, and she grew progressively more estranged from him. His children followed their mother's way. His finances failed soon afterwards, and he became chronically ill for many years. Yet despite the collapse of his private life, he dedicated himself to the service of others. He had a remarkable healing gift, and he spent his time travelling all over the country giving spiritual healing, counsel and solace to all who called upon him. He never charged any money for his services, even travelling on his own account. Much of his time was occupied in helping agnostics to accept a meaning for their sufferings, and to believe that human personality does survive the death of the physical body. (It should be noted that not a few of these spiritual agnostics were devoted churchgoers, whose religion unfortunately had not penetrated beneath the surface of their personalities.)

In his work he was helped devotedly by his second wife, and their combined ministry was a source of inspiration to all who knew them. And yet there was never a real release from physical suffering despite his great work of healing others.

When I first met him he was nearly eighty years old and his youthfulness was a constant delight. Like all really young people (who are in fact ageless) he kept his youthfulness by interesting himself in every current trend in science, philosophy and theology. But when he was in his middle eighties he was struck down with cancer. His body could not stand this fresh blow, and the radical treatment necessary for this grave disease produced a profound mental depression. He rallied outwardly, but the soul was slowly being released from the ailing body. His sufferings were much more spiritual than physical, and he died six months after his disease became manifest. This was not the manner of death that his friends had envisaged. But then was not the Christ crucified between two criminals while the mob jeered at Him for His manifest helplessness?

My second friend, also elderly when I knew him, was distinguished by a most brilliant mind. He belonged to the now almost extinct class of highly educated people whose minds could embrace the whole breadth of European culture and philosophy, and also understand the nuances of Eastern religious thought. He was an intellectual, a highly successful man of business, a great student of Jungian psychology, and a near mystic. To be in his company was a great intellectual experience, but he could be cruel to those of lesser mental ability and selfish in his personal relationships. All this contrasted painfully with the fluent wisdom that emanated from his mind. To suffer fools gladly is a difficult task, but until it is accomplished, you are not a whole person,for God is nearer to the fool than to the intellectual!

About a year before his death, he was stricken by a severe heart attack. Indeed, he should have died at one point, but was brought round by expert resuscitation. The experience of passing over was important for him, because he had already become interested in the fate of the psyche of those whose bodies had died. His first response to the new lease of life granted him was blissful, but soon it was succeeded by a most terrible depression which lasted a number of months. During this period he repudiated and betrayed every spiritual principle that had previously sustained his life and that he had inculcated into those who had the privilege of being his students. A nihilistic despair dominated his conscious life, and he was cynically suspicious of those around him who loved him dearly.

As the months passed, this terrible despair gradually lifted, and the last time I saw him he was markedly euphoric, being filled with grandiose schemes for the future, but also harbouring suspicion of those around him. He gradually returned to his old self, but was now much quieter and more rested than previously. He began to cling with real affection to his saintly wife who had sustained his work over the years despite frequent ingratitude. As the new year came in he acknowledged the primacy of love above all else in life. Of course, he knew this with the mind ,the reason or the intellect,well enough before the final testing. But at last it had penetrated through the heart to the soul. And he was redeemed.

He was in fact planning new work when a second heart attack struck, and he died almost immediately.

My third friend, to whom I owe more than I could ever say, was a woman who was a natural mystic. Brought up in a conventional, but not unpleasant, Christian background, she too showed an early universalism which transcended narrow denominational barriers. After disillusionment during the first world war, she drifted aimlessly along for a time, but always with an inner directive to find out the meaning that lay behind the strange façade of outer life. From war nursing she moved into the new field of family planning and from there into a uniquely practical type of psychology that acknowledged the soul as the primary unit of man's being. Of course, this view is, in one respect, as old as mankind, but, on the other hand, it has been almost entirely overlaid with more materialistic psychological theories that deride all assertions of spirituality as wishful thinking.

My friend had no doubt that the great fact of psychology was that man was a spiritual being. But as she lacked those degrees and diplomas that the world looks for as a gauge of respectability, she was always an outsider. Nevertheless, her classes were extremely well attended in the earlier part of her work, and many people in all walks of life benefited from her sound teaching and spiritual counsel. Many took from her but few paid her the courtesy of acknowledging the source of their wisdom. But her generosity was such that her only wish was that her teaching should be as widely disseminated as possible so as to give new hope and inspiration to those cast down and in trouble.

As she grew older the sunniness of her disposition dulled and she became increasingly petulant and irritable. She felt she had failed in her work, for her classes were becoming very poorly attended. Life was passing her by despite her great gifts and her spiritual vision. Indeed, towards the end of her active life one became wary of meeting her. It was indeed sad to behold a person who had given of herself, body and soul, to her vocation become bitter with the passage of years. She ate too much, more through frustration than greed, and her blood pressure rose dangerously. Finally she had a severe stroke.

For over two years she remained alive, completely paralysed down the right side of her body and virtually speechless. All she could utter were a few meaningless words, and direct communication with her was more through loving intuition than by words of intelligence. Yet those two years were the crowning glory of this great woman's life, because what she had taught about the soul was now radiating through her own being. Being bereft of intellectual conceit and physical pride, she had nothing else but the light from within, and how radiantly this shone. She became a focus of benediction for the entire geriatric hospital where she spent this last period of her life. She had become as a little child who alone can enter the kingdom of God. The nurses, sensible practical women far too accustomed to the squalid facts of chronic illness to indulge in sentimental make-believe, flowed out in love to this speechless, yet strangely articulate, soul. They brought other patients to her, so that by holding her hand, they could obtain a blessing. A distinguished neurologist who was called in to see her and advise about the possibility of further treatment, while having nothing further to contribute in this matter, remarked on the splendid personality that must once have been present despite the tragic disintegration that was now taking place. Indeed, this last period was a blessing, and to be in her presence was an experience of divine grace.

When she was finally carried off by a second stroke there was great sadness among the patients and staff. She could not communicate with words, but her soul established that deeper communication which is the heart of real communion. When the claims of the rebellious personality were finally stilled, the soul shone through directly, and she took all those round her to the threshold of the divine presence.

It would be an anticlimax to expatiate on the crowning strength that came with weakness in the life histories of my three friends. But I should not fail to point out one consideration. All had to undergo a prolonged test of physical disease before they were relieved by death. Had their lives not been prolonged they could not have worked out what they came into the world to achieve.

There is a temptation nowadays to advocate a modified euthanasia of those who are incurably ill. While I do not wish to make, from these instances of redemption by suffering, a dogma in favour of prolonging the lives of those whose existence seems to have lost all meaning, I would counsel the utmost caution against glib assumptions about the quality of any particular life. We do not know what lessons the soul is learning while the person lies in the deepest humiliation. If we knew more about eternal life, we would live our present life-span on earth with greater reverence and joy.

The mind is extremely humbled by the radiance of soul made manifest in those who suffer. Of course, not all victims of strokes emanate love as did my friend. Many become selfish, querulous and destructive. But even in this there may be a lesson. The soul might be learning through the disintegration of the superficial personality, which had previously successfully hidden its inner darkness behind a veneer of piety. When the meretricious surface is removed, its inner depths are revealed, and what emanates is not pleasant. But we must stop judging, and observe the travail of the soul with detached compassion. It is thus that judgement is transcended by understanding, and a vaster view of the process of life in eternity becomes visible to us.