Because we have contempt for good counsel
Approximately 60 million people die globally each year — about 164,000 per day, or 1.9 per second. Cardiovascular disease remains the leading cause, accounting for nearly 30% of all deaths. Cancer is the second largest cause at 17%. Non-communicable diseases (NCDs) collectively account for over 74% of all global deaths, reflecting ageing populations and lifestyle factors worldwide. Road injuries are a leading cause of death for young adults aged 15–29.
People die for many reasons. Since 2014, when Yemen tipped into civil war, the country has become one of the most desperate places on earth. GDP per person has fallen by 58%. Most families cannot survive without foreign aid. More than 2m children under five are malnourished. Yet the Houthis, the Iran-backed rebels who are one side of the conflict, fight on. They care little about governing and extort enough money to keep their war machine humming.
Bosnia-Herzegovina earlier, and large swathes of Africa where genocide is routine as part of ethnic cleansing. In a minor way, it is also true in the Global South for reasons of caste, gender, and religion.
The Old Testament is replete with idol worshippers being wiped out, and in the New Testament, the persecution that Christians faced in Rome and continue to face where they are a minority. Yes, being a minority in a majoritarian state is unsettling. Yet people choose to stay. It is home to them. Elsewhere, they will be refugees or potentially deported.
What is home? It is where the family is. It is where the community is. It is where the farm is, the economic engine, in a manner of speaking, that feeds the family, provides a roof over heads and food on the table. The community ensures continuity. Marriages occur among like-minded people with common beliefs and cultural systems. There is security in numbers.
In times of grief and distress, the community coalesces to provide support and mitigation. It can also rise in defence of the other. “When Abram heard that his relative had been captured, he mobilized the 318 trained men born in his household, and they pursued the invaders as far as Dan.” (Gen 14:14). Those who can mobilise become leaders. They express the collective concerns. Perceived prophets lead where the state declares that the religious text will be the constitution. Iran and Sharia Law are an instance.
When a person whom we are either acquainted with or known to us dies, we want to know what happened after experiencing or expressing shock over the death. When more than one dies, an acquaintance or a close relative among them, the shock is not experienced but chills our bones when we hear it.
We soon learn how the death occurred. If there is a survivor, he carries the burden of those who did not survive, unsure if he should be grateful or seized with grief for the ones who died, wishing it was his or her fate too. The grieving families of the dead themselves take a while to come to terms with the good fortune of the survivor, that he or she chose to wear the seat belt if it was a car accident, whereas the others did not or could not. In the worst case, the survivor is indicted for causing the death.
A store owner in our layout died. He was well-regarded, in his mid-thirties, married, with two young children. He materialised wherever help was needed. I heard the news on the community chat group. I felt sad that a life was snuffed out in its youth. I did not choose to enquire what happened. I was confident the details would filter through, some imagined and some documented. The last thing one wants to do is ask the grieving family or get it wrong.
A few days later, I heard it all as an eavesdropper. Like Jesus listening in on the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him. (Lk 24:14-16)
Of the pair talking outside our kitchen window, one knew all that happened to the man who died. The other wanted to know all that happened. A jaundiced liver inflamed by alcoholism. The curse of alcoholism was following the man’s spouse. Her father too was an alcoholic. She was a witness to her father’s drinking bouts and abuse. The spouse was willing to excuse every misdeed, even permitting her husband to eat what was religiously forbidden.
They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.” (Lk 24: 18, 25-27)
The man is dead, leaving behind a store, spouse, and two school-going children. As mentioned, he was helpful, but also careless with money. He lent to help, or for usury; we would not know. He bought a car to be one with his middle-class customers, residents of the layout who bought from his store. But he could not pay rent on the store or restock when supplies ran out.
What makes us do what we do when our better self tells us to do otherwise? Why do we not listen to the prophets God sends us? The man who died was counselled by his landlord, who even overlooked the rent not being paid, and also by ‘the man who knew what happened’. The curse took its toll.
Jesus took our burden upon Himself that we may be saved. Now the children and spouse will bear the burden of one who would not listen to good advice. Do we see ourselves in this man who died, who would not listen to good counsel? Do we hear, but do not do?
- Mathew Anthony
