JPF Home Page Forums General Messages Brian Austin Whitney Blog Friday, December 21st, 2007

Hi Folks,

I noticed in Europe that folks had a different comfort level with death than we usually have in the US. For me, death is a bummer and even when people I barely know pass, it saddens and depresses me. But in Europe I definitely sensed a different acceptance level and comfort with it just being part of human existance. Less fear. Less sadness. It was tangible.

We visited 2 different Ossuaries while we toured. Both displayed piles of bones which had either been placed into artistic presentations or had been adorned with paint and symbols.

Here's one of them we visited:



My theory on why people react differently is that their societies are more mature and the ever present ancient history has engrained in their societies a constant reminder of our personal temporary status and how generations and generations of people have passed before them. In the US, we have only a brief history and 3 long lifetimes have passed since the country was started.

So is it a case of a mature civilization versus an immature one? Or am I alone in my discomfort with death?

Brian

Man, I'm just glad those people in the picture aren't still alive.

:O

Sorry, Brian--obviously you were alive. I think you nailed it--older societies have a more mature understanding of death. In the US, good luck even discussing it. This used to be a big deal to me because I saw a lot of death in my 20's---my brother, my parents, my grandparents, a best friend, all felled in quick succession for different reasons. I became very annoyed with how we deal with it culturally. People who wanted to "be there" for me seemed to have only wanted to either feed me (I could do that) or hear all about my feelings (they wanted me to cry for them, it seems)...but once the discussion went to the nature of death, the meaning of death, how THEY perceived death, I was shocked at how quickly they left the room.

I'm older now and not resentful of peoples' fear of death. But I no longer fear it. Although I have no desire to hasten my own death, I DO look forward to it.

Death is certain and natural, and I accept the mystery, even the beauty it offers.

Check out Clint Anglin's song about Death...very insightful, I think.

The body dies but the soul never dies, where the soul goes after it leaves the body may give people the feeling of uncertainty or fear. If a person is sure of his faith, much of the fear of death is dispelled.

Everett,

Without getting into a raging discussion on religion, I do want to note that I am always surprised when people of great faith are sad when someone dies. If they believe what they preach, they should be extremely happy. It's always an odd dynamic when people of faith act as though something terrible has happened.

If (insert your religion of preference) is correct, then even the death of a child should be a wonderful thing. Of course this is the tool that terrorists use to brainwash suicide bombers to do their thing. But the truth is that if their religion is true, then that person and all they kill are much better off right?

It seems to me that entire regious civilizations could be killed and wiped off the face of the earth and everyone would be happy.. because all those folks would go to a much better place.

But I know this topic will simply rage, so I will just say that from your point of view, I would expect you to have a much different perception of death. I like to think, regardless of what might be true beyond death, that the only thing we know for sure is that we're here now and we can control our actions and efforts right now. Later, it comes down to blind faith. I just think we should all be more proactive and not simply wait for the next thing. I am not as sure the grass is greener so to speak.

Brian

Could it be that the reason people are sad is because they will miss the person who has died? Ben

Brian,
You look as you are ready to jump out of your skin in that picture. Was that look on purpose or just a incidential moment in time? I quit worrying about death a long time ago. I intend to live right up to the end and take life by the horns as it were.

I think you can have deep faith AND be sad that you have lost a loved one.

Emily

Well...keep in mind that people are fallible. Those of deep faith have minds, hearts and souls that fully believe...but doubt and fear still grips us all in the face of death.

HIDee Big Bro Brian!

Cute Picture...& yeah, I used to feel thataways about dyin'...

I think that as Ya Age you get to a point (Age 60 was mine) where ya feel "OK, I've accomplished MOST of What I Started Out WANTIN'" and you go into "Coast" Mode. Perhaps overnight, "Death" is no longer SO "Mysterious" and lots more "A Certainty."

I think Europeans ARE More Into-The-Moment, because So Many Times they've had The Germans blitzkreigin' Away over their Borderlines, that they're aware "Peace" is an illusion. (Or has been, so far..over the Milleniums.) We've JUST begun to experience That Feeling since "9-11" over here.

But, as Ol' FDR Said once, we have only to fear Fear-Itself. The Moment we all Fade-to-Black, we cross the line to the Great Unknown. It's either a whole lotta Nothin'...or a Great New Adventure. (I'm inclined to expect the Former, & of Course hope for the Latter..but it's WAY beyond My Control.)

But..what ya DO control, more-or-less, is the Next 24 Hours...& that's REALLY all ya gotta worry about..IF ya gotta worry. (Death and Taxes sorta take care of Themselves...heh-heh!)

Hang in there, Amigo...& just remember, ALL those folks who belonged to those Bones no longer have Our Problems, & they're well-along to their Next Assignment. (So Smile!)

Big Guy-Hug,
Ol' Stan

For me, I've always viewed religion's potential to help people improve their lives and give them a model to work towards. I think all man made religions are as corrupt as the government or corporations or schools or anything else where humans with egos and vanity have control over vast financial and community resources. But when used for good, it can produce great results. Here's an example from today's news:

Pastor's Challenge Shocks Congregation
By HELEN O'NEILL,AP

CHAGRIN FALLS, Ohio (Dec. 20) - The Rev. Hamilton Coe Throckmorton shivered with anticipation as he gazed at the loot - wads of $50 bills piled high beside boxes of crayons in a Sunday school classroom.

Cautiously, he locked the door. Then he started counting.

It was a balmy Friday evening in September. From several floors below faint melodies drifted up - the choir practicing for Sunday service.

Throckmorton was oblivious. For hours, perched awkwardly on child-sized wooden stools surrounded by biblical murals and children's drawings, the pastor and a handful of coconspirators concentrated on the count.

Forty-thousand dollars. Throckmorton smiled in satisfaction as he stashed the money in a safe.

That Sunday, the 52-year-old minister donned his creamy white robes, swept to the pulpit and delivered one of the most extraordinary sermons of his life.

First he read from the Gospel of Matthew.

"And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man according to his ability."

Then he explained the parable of the talents, which tells of the rich master who entrusts three servants with a sum of money - "talents" - and instructs them to go forth and do good. The master lavishes praise on the two servants who double their money. But he casts into the wilderness the one so afraid to take a risk that he buries his share.

Throckmorton spends up to 20 hours working on his weekly homily, and his clear diction, contemplative message and ringing voice command the church. Gazing down from the pulpit that Sunday, Throckmorton dropped his bombshell.

Like the master, he would entrust each adult with a sum of money - in this case, $50. Church members had seven weeks to find ways to double their money, the proceeds to go toward church missions.

"Live the parable of the talents!" Throckmorton exhorted, as assistants handed out hundreds of red envelops stuffed with crisp $50 bills and stunned church members did quick mental calculations, wondering where all the money had come from. There are about 1,700 in the congregation, though not everyone attends each week.

The cash, Throckmorton explained, was loaned by several anonymous donors.

In her regular pew at the back of the church, where she has listened to sermons for 40 years, 73-year-old Barbara Gates gasped. What kind of kooky nonsense is this, she thought.

"Sheer madness," sniffed retired accountant Wayne Albers, 85, to his wife, Marnie, who hushed him as he whispered loudly. "Why can't the church just collect money the old-fashioned way?"

In a center pew, Ann Nagy's eyes moistened as she considered her ailing, beloved father, his suffering, and the song she had written to comfort him near death. She nudged her husband Scott. "Give me your $50," she whispered. Nagy knew exactly what she would do.

Throckmorton wrapped up his two morning services by saying that children would get $10. And he assured the congregation that anyone who didn't feel comfortable could simply return the money. No consignment to outer darkness for those who didn't participate.

Throckmorton is warm and engaging and approachable, as comfortable talking about the Cleveland Indians baseball team as he is discussing scripture. At the Federated Church, he is known simply as Hamilton.

But as church members spilled into the late summer sunshine that morning to ponder their skills and their souls, there were many who thought: Hamilton is really pushing us this time.

"There was definitely this tension, this pressure to live up to something," said Hal Maskiell, a 62-year-old retired Navy pilot who spent days trying to figure out how to meet the challenge.

Maskiell's passion is flying a four-seater Cessna 172 Skyhawk over the Cuyahoga County hills. He decided to use his $50 to rent air time from Portage County airport and charge $30 for half-hour rides. Church members eagerly signed up. Maskiell was thrilled to get hours of flying time, and he raised $700.

His girlfriend, Kathy Marous, 55, was far less confident. What talents do I have, she thought dejectedly. She was tempted to give the money back.

And then Marous found an old family recipe for tomato soup, one she hadn't made in 19 years. She remembered how much she had enjoyed the chopping and the cooking and the canning and the smells. With Hal's encouragement Marous dug out her pots. She bought three pecks of tomatoes. Suddenly she was chopping and cooking and canning again. At $5 a jar, she made $180.

"I just never imagined people would pay money for the things I made," Marous exclaimed.

Others felt the same way. Barbara Gates raised $450 crafting pendants from beads and sea glass - pieces she had casually made for her grandchildren over the years. Kathie Biggin created fanciful little red-nosed Rudolph pins and sold them for $2.50. Twelve-year-old Amanda Horner pooled her money with friends, stocked up at JoAnn's fabric store, and made dozens of colorful fleece baby blankets, which were purchased by church members and then donated to a local hospital.

And 87-year-old Bob Burrows rediscovered old carpentry skills and began selling wooden bird-feeders.

But it wasn't the money; everyone said so. It was something else, something far less tangible but yet so very real. For seven weeks an almost magical sense of excitement and energy and camaraderie infused the elegant red-brick church on Bell Street, spilling over into homes and hearts as the parable of the talents came alive.

In her sun-filled studio on Strawberry Lane, Shirley Culbertson felt it - a joyful sense of purpose that she had rarely experienced since her husband passed two years ago. Culbertson, 81, is a gifted painter and watercolors fill her house. But she discovered another talent during this time - knitting whimsical eight-inch stuffed dolls with button noses and floppy hats. She raised $90.

Zooming down country roads clinging to the back of a leather-clad biker, Florence Cross felt it too. For the challenge, Barry Biggin had parked his 2006 Harley Davidson Road King outside the church, offering 12-mile rides for $30. Cross was the first to sign up. Never mind that she is in her mid-80s, had never been on a bike, or that her husband of 60 years had to hoist her up.

"Oh, it was such a thrill!" said Cross, her face glowing at the memory. Her friends now call her "Harley Girl."

Martine Scheuermann lived the parable in her Elm Street kitchen, transforming it into an "applesauce factory" for several weeks. The 49-year-old human resources director would rise at 6 a.m. on Sundays in order to have warm batches ready for sampling at church services.

In his origami-filled bedroom on Bradley Street, Paul Cantlay lived the parable too. Surrounded by sheets of colored construction paper, the 9-year-old crafted paper dragons and stars and sailboats. He set up an origami stand at the end of his street, charged 50 cents to $5 depending on the piece, and raised $68.

Talents began multiplying at such a rate that the church held a bazaar after services on two consecutive Sundays for people to display - and sell - their wares.

The pretty little village on the Chagrin River falls had never seen anything quite like it. Everyone seemed to be talking about the talent challenge: over the clatter of coffee cups at Dink's restaurant, at the Fireside bookshop on the green, sipping drinks at the Gamekeeper's Taverne. Even members of other churches weighed in: Have you heard what's happening at Federated?

"Anyone can open their wallet and give cash," Kris Tesar said. "This was just an extraordinary process of exploration and discovery and of challenging ourselves. It became bigger than any one of us or than any individual talent."

Tesar, a 58-year-old retired nurse, discovered her talent in buckets of flip-flops for sale at Old Navy. She stocked up on yarn and beads and made dozens of funky, fluffy decorative footwear that were a huge hit with teens. Tesar raised $550 for the church, is still taking orders and is thinking of starting a business. Now even her children call her the "flip-flop lady."

People also got to know the "hen lady" - Gabrielle Quintin, who took to raising chickens on a whim 23 years ago when she moved into a 180-year-old house with a barn. Her "ladies," as Quintin calls her backyard flock, provide a welcome distraction from her nursing job in a cancer center. Quintin decided to put her brood to work for the church. For $10 church members could "hire-a-hen" and get three dozen fresh eggs complete with a photograph of the "lady" who laid them.

"It wasn't exactly spiritual, but I had a lot of fun," said Quintin, whose husband, Mike, made glass birdfeeders. "And it was just this great way of bringing everyone together and connecting with the church."

Kathy Wellman quilted. Mary Hobbs knit shawls and penciled portraits. Cathy Hatfield auctioned a ride in her hot-air balloon. Norma and Trent Bobbitt pooled their money with another church member to hire a harpist from the Cleveland orchestra and host an elegant evening dinner party. Folks paid $50 each to attend and the Bobbitts made over $1,200.

And physician Peter Yang took over shifts from other doctors in his partnership (he used his $50 for gas to get to the hospital) and raised $3,000.

The deadline to return the money was Sunday, Oct. 28. Nervously, some church council members suggested posting plain clothes security guards at services that day. But Throckmorton would have none of it. He insisted that the spirit of the challenge, which had already inspired so much goodwill, would carry them safely through. And it did.

Organ music filled the church as people silently filed down the aisle, dropped their proceeds into baskets, and offered testimonials about what living the parable had meant to them. Throckmorton thanked everyone for their generosity. Then he started counting.

A week later he delivered the joyful news: They had more than doubled the amount distributed.

The initial take was $38,195 over the loan, but the amount is still growing. Some people didn't make the deadline, or extended it in order to finish their projects.

The final sum will be divided equally between three charities: One-third will go to a school library in South Africa where the church is involved in an AIDS mission; one-third will go to micro-loan organizations that provide seed money for small businesses in developing countries; one-third will help the Interfaith Hospitality Network in Cleveland, specifically programs for homeless women.

Throckmorton is asked all the time if the talent challenge will become an annual event, but he is doubtful. It was a special time and a special idea, he says, and he is not sure it could be re-created or relived.

Yet in a very real sense, it lives on. Church members who never knew each other have become friends. And orders for applesauce, flip-flops and Rudolph pins are still rolling in for Christmas.

There are other, more poignant reminders. Like Ann Nagy's haunting tribute to her father, who died of brain cancer on Oct. 11.

Nagy, 44, has always been a singer with a clear lovely voice. It wasn't until her father grew ill and moved into a hospice that she started writing songs. She found solace in the music and a way of communicating that was sometimes easier than spoken words.

At hospice, patients are taught five simple truths to tell their loved ones before they die: I'll miss you. I love you. I forgive you. I'm sorry. Goodbye.

Borrowing from that theme, Nagy wrote a farewell song for her Dad. She pooled her $50 talent money with her husband's share and cut a CD to sell to church members. Ironically it was finished just an hour before her father passed, on Oct. 11. Nagy stood by his bed and sang it for him anyway.

On Nov. 11 - her father's 72nd birthday - Throckmorton preached a sermon about dying. He invited Nagy to the altar. There, accompanied by a cellist and a pianist she sang "Before You Go."

Her voice soared. The congregation wept. The parable of the talents had never seemed so alive.

I just read the article...very inspiring!
Thanks for sharing

Emily

We are SO on the same page on SO many topics...religion is one where I feel that our minds are one. I seriously am SO glad to know you, Brian...you often inspire me...but the greatest thing for me is to have someone who thinks exactly what I do, and can express those views so eloquently AND back them up with stories and examples AND ... actually takes the time to do it and share it. Thank you for being you and making me feel that I am not alone it this world.

I really appreciate the kind words. I hope that our site makes everyone, even those we don't always agree with but welcome to the discussion nonetheless, feel the same way. I sure try to make it that way.

Thanks again,

Brian

WOW! Thanks Brian for sharing that story, God sure does work in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.

When people lose a love one, even Christian are sad, sad mainly for themselves, because they will miss them. Sometimes they are sad because they know that loved one was not right in his/her walk with God, and now it is too late to make that change in their walk, they fear for their soul. We never know for sure if that loved one made deathbed confession of faith or not, so all we can do is pray and leave it in God's hands.

I think if the whole world tried to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, this would be a much better world. I'm not a religious person, I'm a Christian, a whole world of difference. I fail at it many times, but I ask forgiveness and start out again.