Do you remember the first person you met who had AIDS? I do. It was 1989. I was called to serve as interim pastor of a church where the permanent pastor had to resign and go on disability because he had AIDS. The first day I went to the church to work he was there waiting for me to show me around and fill me in on what was going on in the church. He was a great person and I liked him very much. BUT –
In spite of having been to several workshops about AIDS, including how it is transmitted, I had to remind myself that it was all right to use the bathroom in the pastor’s study. I wasn’t going to get AIDS from the bathroom. I had an irrational fear about turning the door knob of the office. Yes, I know, I wasn’t going to get AIDS that way, either. And, worst of all, I found that whenever I thought about the pastor, I thought, “He’s going to die.” That thought was looming over all of my interactions with him.
For those who are in hospice work, this is nothing new. But I was young and naive, and had no experience with hospice, so this made a big impression on me. I would think about how I really liked this colleague, but he was going to die. It wasn’t a scared feeling, or a morbid feeling. It was more matter-of-fact.
Well, to be matter-of-fact, everyone we know is going to die. Everyone we meet is going to die. Everyone we love is going to die. Everyone we don’t like is going to die. We will all die, one day, some day.
So, what are we going to do? Hold back? Withdraw, so we don’t get hurt? That’s one response to the frailty of life. And, all too often, that’s what happens when someone is dying. Friends, family, neighbors, colleagues, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of their own mortality, back off. Many dying people, when they are most in need of support and companionship, find themselves bereft, and the few people that are steadfast in their presence may become overwhelmed.
But there is another way to face death. It is conveyed in the motto of Suncoast Hospice: Everyday is a gift. Each and every day may be our last. So what are we going to do with today? Each and every day may be the last day of life for our family, for friends, for the homeless stranger who haunts a downtown corner. How do we want to treat people – if this is the last chance we have to interact with them? What do we want to do on our last day? On their last day? Each day is a chance to help someone, to give a gift of a smile, to show compassion, to share love.
AIDS has taught us a lot. We have learned about homophobia from AIDS. We have learned about our biases in healthcare funding. We have learned about our unfounded fears. We have learned about the different value given to lives of people who are gay or African or poor. But HIV/AIDS has also taught us to embody compassion, to serve “the least of these,” and to appreciate the precious gift of life: A gift given, received, and spent one day at a time.
Lakewood United Church of Christ 