Theophilus Daniel
March 4, 2022
Moreau FYE Integration Three

Victory over Death
The stillness in which the mystics approach Him is intent and alert—at the opposite pole from sleep or reverie. They are becoming like Him. Silences in the physical world occur in empty places: but the ultimate Peace is silent through very density of life. Saying is swallowed up in being. There is no movement because His action (which is Himself) is timeless.
C.S. Lewis, Miracles[footnoteRef:1] [1:  Lewis, C. S. Miracles. New York: HarperCollins, 2009.] 

Introduction
The first QQC of the semester set the tone particularly well for both this eulogy and the semester to come: silence. Essayist Pico Iyer wrote that “It is the rest in a piece that gives music its resonance or shape” (“Why we need to slow down our lives” by Pico Iyer – Moreau FYE Week 1). What an arresting idea – to think of silence as an end in itself! This embrace of silence can go two ways, as I see it: either silence is dense with life (as above), or it is absolute nothingness. I prefer the former because I think it is the real point of silence. 
Embracing stillness in this sense means recognizing that for all the action we perform throughout our lives, our ultimate goal should be a kind of rest. But this is not an ordinary rest. It is more akin to being filled than being emptied. “Saying is swallowed up in begin,” as Lewis says. That’s the goal. That’s my goal.


Eulogy from a distant friend
Was this a good life? Despite myself, I think it was not. I think this man would agree. He would not say he wanted “a good life;” he wanted “the good life.” So much of his focus, his impetus, can be seen as a perpetual vision of the forest above the trees. He gave the impression that he came to live the only right kind of life – and while there are many whom he thought fit into this definition, the life he lived still could not be considered “a good life” by the same criteria we use that term for others.
I have begun a bit vague, necessarily. I do not want to trivialize the occasion, however, so I will try to show what I mean by pointing to two things that our age has come to terms with quite comfortably: death and desire. 
Our sight, as humans, is quite limited. We can see others fine enough, on most days – we can diagnose, psychoanalyze, convict, judge, deconstruct – but turning this tool upon ourselves has proven difficult, even impossible. A psychologist I once knew said that “a good rule of thumb, then, is that why questions are generally better to help us understand events in our environment and what questions are generally better to help us understand ourselves” (“The right way to be introspective (yes, there’s a wrong way)” by Tasha Eurich - Moreau FYE Week 6). With this in mind, I come to eulogize an old friend, to help make clear who this man was. There are many things I will not say about him, so the ones which I will – below – are only the most essential.
This man entombed remembered death and desire more clearly than many. He would in fact say that death and desire are both a kind of preparation. For him, to “remember that you will die” is to remember something which will not always be true – it exhausted its meaning, its impact, when that death came.
This man thought death and desire were a kind of preparation. It was a strange way of thinking. It was a stranger way of living. He took a kind of pessimism with regard to death that many today do not share – for him, there was almost nothing good about death itself. Most of us would at least give some reverence to the subject, a kind of respect for death, even a rationalization of it. He would do nothing of the sort. Death could only ever be a sign of something greater than itself. It could only ever point. I feel compelled toward another quote here that he would be fond of, supposedly of Confucius. “When a wise man points at the moon the imbecile examines the finger.” For this man, death was that finger – life is the moon.
There is a second portion – desire. More accurately, restlessness. Another good associate of mine said something like “restlessness is indeed the best thing about us” (“Three Key Questions” by Father Michael Himes – Moreau FYE Week 3). I think my associate was quoting some theologian, which only strengthened my conviction of its universality. Restlessness – desire – pursuit – all of this gives us life. If we were placated, what life is there? What is “activity” if there is no motion? But if there is motion, then that means we are moving to something – which means we are at least a little unfulfilled. We are searching, forever searching. This is life.
But my old friend disagrees, I think. And using the very same theologian he argued against me: “our hearts are restless until they rest in thee” ( Who this “thee” is I am still unsure. Perhaps it is speaking of a rest in each other, in the embrace of humanity that transcends borders and cultural boundaries and welcomes all. Only when we are united can we be at peace. That’s a beautiful picture worth embracing, but it is an abstraction. The word is “thee,” not plural “you” – he was not talking about other humans, I think.
For this man, my old friend, “rest” was the goal at the end after all. Again, I am not sure why someone would think in this way – we’ve had many long conversations about it, and I am still quite unsure what to make of it. It seemed for a time that he agreed with me that life means “activity,” but he somehow thought “activity” and “rest” could be one and the same. It mystifies me. Perhaps it mystified him, too.

This has been quite the philosophical eulogy already. Some of that is appropriate – for people like us, where else will we get our philosophy? We don’t spend much time thinking about it elsewhere. If not here, then nowhere else will these things be thought on. So forgive my abstractions and my explanations. I do wish, though, to delve into some of the concrete realities of this man’s life, the kinds of things we can measure much more clearly, though they were not quite as important to him.
This man took to his career the way one takes to a trip (“Navigating Your Career Journey,” Undergraduate Career Services – Moreau FYE Week 4): a journey mindset, continuously moving about, sometimes stopping at unexpected places, sometimes simply stopping, other times changing, often growing, often changing. It is a one-way trip, I am afraid – he’s not coming back to us. No one is, or ever will. But as trips go, he made strong and delightful sense of meaning pervade it all. We, for all our differing dispositions today, can appreciate that, I think. His life was a life of service.
It sounds either fanciful or damning today to say “conviction should undergird all our actions.” For him, though, “conviction” was not some psychological, juristic, or theological reality – not alone, at least. For him, “conviction” appeared wherever action appeared. It was not possible to do something which did not reveal conviction – either it revealed a failure in living up to that conviction or it showed one living up to it. In this way even “I want to become rich” is a conviction. It does not need to be something high and noble and verbose.
What was his conviction? At last, I don’t need to ruminate; I have a quote. “My conviction is to see each person return to the God in whose image and likeness they are made.” The man was, if you’ll pardon my polysyllabic mess here, a philosopher-theologian (“Irish Compass Activity” – Moreau FYE Week 5). It does not seem to be an either/or, or a both/and, but a kind of blend of the two. You’d almost get the feeling that they were the same thing for him. This philosophy-theology undergirded everything he did, no matter how lean or concrete or particular, how hands-on or dirty, how human. The abstract informed the concrete. Thought came before action, but it also informed it, and perhaps surpassed it. Both the remnants of his thought and his action remain here with us today. In a world such as this, even we can appreciate such a legacy: to live not just for others, but for “the other” – to accept humiliation or pain or defeat for the sake of something greater. To believe that this world was not the end, but that there was another awaiting, a jurisdiction of God’s own, where everything would be perfect and as it always was meant to be, forever (“Chapter 8: Jurisdiction,” from Tattoos on the Heart by Fr. Greg Boyle, S.J. – Moreau FYE Week 7).

There is much to unpack there, like I have said. I already feel I am going a bit over what I expected, and I want to constrict my remarks as much as is possible to the most essential of this man. I think I have represented that so far – here is one more addition. An important man that my grandmother knew said “Serve our country, put your country before party and before politics, and always do the right thing” (“Hesburgh,” film by Jerry Barca and Christina O’Malley – Moreau FYE Week 2) Today this is quite banal; “Thanks,” we say, “but we already knew that – just look around us!” Yes, look around us, indeed. It is the simplicity and directness of this advice which makes it so applicable and so relevant even now, well beyond the historical confines of the moment which formed it. We are living, at least in some important ways, the very truth of this statement. We have global solidarity, and the party and politics of yesteryear look nothing like our more amicable disagreements today. Who can say this is not at least an indirect product of the work of this man before us in this tomb? Who can say he was not “faithfully allegiant?” His loyalties may have been different from ours concerning death. But as they say, “death is the great equalizer.” The differences we’ve had in life cease to matter then. In the true spirit of memento mori, then, let us begin to abolish these differences even today, even in life. Perhaps we can find the very life our friend here sought. Perhaps what he was looking for is right here among us – us humans, working, struggling, achieving.
But my friend, my old friend, would look at me a bit strange if I said such a thing. And he may not here a word of what I say now, but I get the feeling he almost is looking at me in the same way now.
[silence]
Bear the discomfort some. I know this is not the kind of thing we talk about. But it was the kind of thing he would, and in his honor and memory, here’s to talking about it once more. Thank you, friend. I hope you are home indeed.
[clapping; a half minute passes]
Excuse me – yes, my apologies. There is one more thing. There is one more note he gave me to read not long ago, and I actually have not read it until now. I wanted to make it something we all see together, since everything he’s ever given me to read has been of that nature. I cannot leave without it. It has no title, and I am not sure if he wrote it or quoted it – likely some combination. 
Death is swallowed up in victory. 
Where, O death, your victory?
Where, O death, your sting? 

Now the sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!


Works Cited
“Why we need to slow down our lives” by Pico Iyer – Moreau FYE Week 1
“Hesburgh,” film by Jerry Barca and Christina O’Malley – Moreau FYE Week 2
“Three Key Questions” by Father Michael Himes – Moreau FYE Week 3
“Navigating Your Career Journey,” Undergraduate Career Services – Moreau FYE Week 4
“Irish Compass Activity” – Moreau FYE Week 5
“The right way to be introspective (yes, there’s a wrong way)” by Tasha Eurich - Moreau FYE Week 6
“Chapter 8: Jurisdiction,” from Tattoos on the Heart by Fr. Greg Boyle, S.J. – Moreau FYE Week 7