Andrew OHC, Alleluia

May 7, 2015

Brother Andrew OHC died yesterday.  He had struggled for several years with pulmonary fibrosis, and finally his lungs gave out.  He was on a vent for five days, until his family could gather, and then in accordance with his wishes the vent was taken out.  The monastery is in silent retreat these days, so conversation is limited.  Elizabeth is out of town, and I'm here alone except for the cats.  The silence is hard, but seems appropriate.
Just last week Andrew was saying that he had no fear of death.  He loved his life, he was in no hurry to die, but he was ready when it came.  Did he sense how near it was?  Or did he, rather, know that it is always near, in a way that most of us can choose to ignore?  Whichever it was, I'm glad to have had that time with him.
This morning I went down the hill for Matins with the brothers.  Since we're in Easter, we began with the Pascha Nostrum, the Easter hymn to resurrection.  Death is overcome, Alleluia.  It was powerful, poignant, to say these verses together today.
I'll tell you the honest truth.  I don't know what death brings.  I don't know what resurrection means, or will mean.  Someone said to me, "you'll see Andrew again."  I have trouble with that.  I believe that we are gathered into God at death, but I don't believe that the "I" writing this will survive - my memories, my thoughts.  So who is the "I" that would see "Andrew" again?  I don't need to know.  "I" am not likely to know.  And that's OK with me.
Like all the greatest mysteries, death is best approached not through science or proof of argument, but through poetry and imagery and sacrament.  In those ways we go beyond the boundaries of "I" and "you," beyond life vs. death, beyond contradiction to paradox.  So while I don't know anything about life after death, I nonetheless feel clear that Andrew lives in God, with the saints in light.  He was a harpist in life, so I'm sure he is now.
I loved Andrew.  I love Andrew.  He was a blessed, cussed man, complex and multifaceted.  He believed in us, in the Companions, even when we diverged from his idea of what a "monastic" community should be and do.  If consciousness survives, we will probably drive him crazy over the years.  Then, when I die, he'll tell me all about what we did wrong.  And he will love me, and I will love him as I do today.
Beloved Jesus, receive your servant Andrew into your loving arms.  Hold a place for me, so that I may dance to his music in your presence.  Until then, blessed Andrew, pray for us.