The tethers of the heart

Recently, I read a news article about Sr. Theresa Alethia, FSP. She is a Daughter of St. Paul, a #MediaNun, and the subject of a New York Times article titled “Meet the Nun Who Wants You to Remember You Will Die”. The article examines Sr. Theresa’s conversion from atheism to Catholicism and her social media presence (#MediaNun) through which she has committed to spreading memento mori, or “remember your death”.

Starkly topical, right?

Something I have struggled with since the beginning of the pandemic is the question of finding the balance between 1) not wanting to die, and 2) being at peace with the reality of death. “Thy will be done” and all doesn’t leave much room for one’s own plans, in any case.

I know as a Catholic that neither death nor ending ought to be feared. Among the many great teachings of the Gospels, we learn that resurrection cannot begin before death; therefore, death is not just necessary, but hopeful and life-giving as well.

If anyone knows anything about me, it is that I am a long-time fan of The Phantom of the Opera; the musical, yes, but also the general property, starting with the original novel by Gaston Leroux and recurring in the dozens of adaptations, sequels, and various other media, too numerous to count (trust me, I’ve tried).

To briefly recall the original Leroux blueprint, the author characterizes the titular Phantom thusly:

“He is extraordinarily thin and his dress-coat hangs on a skeleton frame. His eyes are so deep that you can hardly see the fixed pupils. You just see two big black holes, as in a dead man’s skull. His skin, which is stretched across his bones like a drumhead, is not white, but a nasty yellow. His nose is so little worth talking about that you can’t see it side-face; and the absence of that nose is a horrible thing to look at. All the hair he has is three or four long dark locks on his forehead and behind his ears.”

Oh yeah, it’s spooky.

The key thing to note here is the blatant imagery of a skeleton, or of Death personified. This established, one might read the climactic sequence in which the story’s heroine Christine Daaé accepts the Phantom’s marriage proposal as, actually, her coming to terms with—her accepting—her own death.

Now, what makes The Phantom of the Opera such a compelling story, one that cannot help but be retold again and again and again, is not only the gothic—which might be understood here as horror’s subversion of Christian themes—but also this very idea of memento mori, this very same Christian theme that now subverts the gothic. Having come to terms with Death, Christine frees herself and leaves the subterranean home of the Phantom to return to the world above, where she can finally, fully live happily ever after with the man she loves. Let me say that again: Christine descends into Hell, conquers Death, and returns to the world above, free of the chains of mortality.

Let me say, if only for the sake of having said it, that I do not think one should go seeking Death or risking life and limb for the sake of “living”. There is a balance to be found between life and death. The balance is threefold: at once, we are called to care for creation, which includes our own bodies; we are destined to die, and that demands a peace of mind and spirit; and we are called to rise again.

Death and endings are on my mind nowadays not only on account of the pandemic, but also because my time with Teach Bhríde is nearing its own end. In a month and a day, my fellow fellows and I will be in Dublin airport, leaving behind the people who have become our family this last year. This is heartbreaking stuff, believe me, but in this ending, at the end of the year and of my time with Teach Bhríde, I find pieces of the eternal and the divine that offer hope, comfort, and peace.

I find them in the very friendships I’ve made. Time moves on and my time here will end, but the love, as it always does, will not. Every person we meet is a harbor to tether the heart, and I’ve now got mine stretched the world around. Though we move physically from one place to another and there and back again in this life, our hearts stay always with the people we love, who love us.

We must come to terms with endings, and for Christians, this massively means having faith that the Lord we serve has come to ultimate terms with the ultimate ending, that Christ has conquered Death. This in mind, may we let the heart’s tethers free us from fear, be it of death or of any other part in this big, wide, beautiful life.