Better the Dead

by Jonas Weaver

I think about death a lot. Too much probably.

I think about how death relates to my existence. What it means for meaning. I think about how death is said to have no sting, no power post-Resurrected Jesus. But I wonder how true these statements of comfort are. Like the statement, “God had your birth and [God] has your death in mind. And when it’s time to die you can’t avoid it,” the sentiments seem inane.

Death has no sting, but people mourn for weeks, months, sometimes years after the fact. Death is still stabbing itself into the skin of the families and friends of the dead.

Supposedly death has no power. Usually what’s meant by this is the notion that death won’t have the final say. But who cares? It makes no sense, to my mind, to waste words on the things that we’ll never understand or be able to wrap our minds around. Especially if those ideas don’t help us live well on this all too often shitty earth.

And the whole notion that God is in control of your death? Sure, maybe in some weird, abstract way, but what’s it matter? I guess if comfort is the goal it makes sense. But to my mind materiality is all we’ve got and focusing on abstractions can be good, if they somehow impact living.

All this to say, death drive more important than life drive.