The 40th Day

I grew up Seventh-Day Adventist (SDA) which means my family went to church on Saturday, I didn't eat pork (and was encouraged to be vegetarian), I didn't wear make-up or jewelry, I didn't read novels or play with occult themes (no ghosts, Ouija boards, witches, etc.), and I was not to listen to secular music, watch movies, or dance. Oh, and no caffeine.

Of course, as with any religion, I did just about all of these with or without the aid of my family. My father and mother love movies and dancing, so I saw LOTS of movies and danced all the time. We are also big coffee drinkers, though now I prefer a soy chai latte. I think my mother had a problem with her daughter knowing the lyrics of some questionable songs, so she began to listen to Christian (read "protestant") radio stations. I listened to some of the music, but I was far more into U2 and eventually jazz and classical music. I was a vegetarian by choice and don't really eat that much pork -- though, sausage is often my downfall. I still to this day do not wear make-up often, which Lance appreciates as he has been scared of clowns, Santa Claus, etc. since he was young. In fact, he still is a bit weary of women who wear to much make up -- as if they have something to hide. I love jewelry though! I got my ears pierced when I was 18. I remember my father was aghast. He said "what else did you get pierced???". An ear is hardly a bellybutton, a nose, or some other part of the anatomy that could be pierced.

Obviously, I have not remained Seventh-Day Adventist. As soon as I turned 18, I started going to a Unitarian church on Sunday mornings and started reading the Torah in an attempt to become Jewish. Then, finally, I found a spiritual home in Orthodox Christianity and converted. Or so I thought.

My grandfather passed away 40 days ago. He was an interesting man. He was born in Mexico, married my grandmother after flirting with her at his mother's funeral, and moved here reluctantly after a hurricane hit Tampico and destroyed the family's livelihood. He always wanted to go back to Mexico, and I am sure the Republican party that he supported would have been more than happy to send him back. I still remember him saying "Viva Bush!!!" (though it sounded more like "Viva Booo-shhh!!!"). He was a drinker and smoker and a womanizer -- all of which lead to the abuse of his family, his body, and, later, depression. He was injured as a roofer and could no longer make a good wage and his family had to rely on charity, which I believe angered him. He took it out on them -- though in good times, I suspect, he was quite kind.

He loved his family though, and in time chose them instead of all the pleasures the world can offer. He developed diabetes, and ignored it. He cursed during soccer games, and I repeated the words (which I got in trouble for doing). He was raised Catholic and did not like the SDA church that my grandmother attended. Later in life, when diabetes claimed two toes and when it began to fuse vertebrae, he chose to be baptized in the SDA church and try to turn his life toward the good.

He was always kind to me, smiled when he saw me, and inquired as to how I was doing or what I was studying. When I went to Greece, Italy, and Turkey and asked what he wanted me to bring him back, he requested a little dirt from each place. So, on my trip, I collected a little earth from each place: Rhodes, Ephesus, and Pompeii. I put them in little glass jars and decorated them with the names of the places (per my mother's instruction). He liked those little jars and all of the other little things he received as gifts from me: a wooden duck and a set of matrushkas. I understand now where my love of tiny objects of delight come from as well as a love of travel -- and a fiery temper and great sense of style (he always had cool hats).

In the back of my mind, I knew he would be my first grandparent to die. He was not in the best of health and he was so very weak. I used think I would be able to emotionally handle his repose and I would be able to sing at his funeral. When the time came, when I heard of his death, I was shaken to my core. There are people that you think will always be here and then they are not. It is not as if I have never experienced the death of someone I loved, but a grandparent is just that strong foundation into one's past and it is difficult to see it washed away by waves of time. You know it will happen, but when the tide comes in and they are taken, it hurts beyond measure.

It was difficult to see his body, cold and not smiling. I was reminded of when my great-grandfather passed away and there was no jolly countenance -- the familiar "hey hey" he would say when he saw you. It is in that moment of seeing the body without soul you realize they are truly no more on this earth.

I thought I had fully converted to Orthodoxy until I realized I still do not understand how the church views death. I would hear all of the SDA pastors and family members say "he is sleeping", but he isn't. The SDA teaches death as a sort of "coma" -- the soul does not leave the body, but hangs out in hibernation until the coming of Christ. I grew up with this teaching and when I compare it with what the Orthodox church says, there is overlap, but they do not agree.

I do believe what Orthodox theologians tell me: the soul departs from the body and therefore it is important that we pray for our loved ones so their souls can be at ease.

The SDA church has a difficulty with this teaching. I am not sure where their idea of the soul still resides in the body comes from, as it is obviously not biblically based (see Christ's Gospel teaching about Lazarus and rich man). Having grown up with this idea my whole life, I was always skeptical about ghosts and after-life experiences as well as the Catholic teachings on purgatory.

As an Orthodox Christian, I understand that it is important to bury after three days and on the ninth day one should also pray because the soul faces judgment before God and is then assigned a place either with God or without God. Obviously, to be with God would be preferable as the human soul is designed to reside with It. However, if one has not in her time on earth loved God or sought after Him, it is more difficult for the soul to chose to reside with God or for God to chose the soul to reside with It. (I use "Him" and "It" interchangeably as a pronoun for God, as God truly has no gender, but on earth He was manifest as God and male MAN, so "He" is also an appropriate pronoun).

Still, I am confused. I am not sure where the third, ninth, and fortieth day traditions come from or how the church fathers can verify all of the teachings on death. My ultimate confusion comes from this question: where is the soul of Grandfather right now? Is it ok? I have prayed on the ninth day for him and will pray today that he is where the just repose. But is he there? Or where is he? Is he suffering? I am so confused and terrorized by these thoughts. Of course I also selfishly think: what will happen when I die? And will my listening to Amy Winehouse somehow take me away from God? Or is there something more to eternal salvation?

I hope in order to reside with God I need to follow God's two big commandments: love Him and love everyone too. I think if I truly loved God, it will be easier and less confusing for me to love everyone else. I always have to remind myself that God loves everyone -- without exception. The itinerant who harasses me in the grocery store, the woman talking on her cellphone while driving, the flamboyant trannie on Capital Hill (with AMAZING shoes) -- God loves each of them and I love them too.

I have been trying to get through Father Seraphim Rose's book "The Soul after Death", but it is a weighty read after a day of caring for Nina. Besides, it is not something I wanted to read before going in for gallbladder surgery. My goal was to finish the book before the fortieth day, but alas, that has not happened. Instead, I will say the Cannon for the Dead for my Grandfather and continue to read about what happens to our souls when we die.

I often recall the "wager" from Pascal's "Le Pensees" -- we gamble when we believe in God. We can risk giving up eternal peace for earthly things or risk pleasures for nothing at all. I don't believe that there is nothing after death; all of the love I feel must mean something is there and I hope I can experience a greater love with God when my time comes. I will continue to pray for those who have departed before me because I love them, because I have hope that I will be able to meet them again in some far better way than I experienced them on earth, and we will all be at peace and love with God.