Death – About Things That Matter

What Will You Regret When You Die?

An AI-Assisted Homily on Overwork, Jesus, and Choosing the Better Part

Readings for 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Genesis 18:1-10a; Psalm 15: 2-5; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10: 38-42

Facing the Final Question

What will you regret most when you’re dying?

Chances are, like most people, it won’t be that you didn’t work hard enough. Instead, you’ll wish you’d spent more time with your loved ones—more dinners with friends, more laughter, more life.

“Every male patient I nursed said the same thing: they missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship.”
— Hospice Nurse

Women often expressed the same sorrow, though many—especially from older generations—hadn’t been the household breadwinners. Still, the verdict was nearly universal: we’ve built lives around the treadmill of work, and at the end, that’s what we mourn.

A Culture Addicted to Work

Let’s be honest: our culture worships overwork.

Especially in the United States, where the average worker puts in three more hours per week than their European counterparts. That’s nearly a month more labor every year.

And when it comes to vacation time? The average American takes less than six weeks off per year. The French take nearly twelve. Swedes? Over sixteen.

Into this burnout culture comes today’s Gospel reading from Luke—a bracing call to step back and reconsider our priorities. A reminder that Jesus, too, challenged the grind.

Jesus, the Counter-Cultural Radical

We often forget just how radical Jesus was.

Deepak Chopra, in The Third Jesus, reminds us that Christ actually instructed his followers not to worry about money, food, or the future.

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.”
— Jesus (Matthew 6:25)

And today’s Responsorial Psalm adds more layers. The “Just Person” is praised for refusing to lie, slander, or take bribes. That all sounds virtuous—nothing shocking there.

But then comes the line:

“They lend not money at usury.”

Wait—what? Lending at interest is considered robbery in the Bible. Imagine if Christians and Jews actually followed that commandment. Our entire debt-driven economy would have to be reimagined.

Rethinking Martha and Mary

Now let’s talk about Mary and Martha.

Most traditional sermons interpret the story spiritually: Martha represents worldly busyness, while Mary models a quiet, contemplative life devoted to prayer.

But that interpretation misses the human, grounded context of the Gospel.

In Un Tal Jesús (“A Certain Jesus”) by María and José Ignacio López Vigil—a powerful retelling of the Gospels popular across Latin America—Jesus is portrayed as joyful, deeply human, and radically present.

In their version, this story doesn’t take place in a quiet house, but in a noisy Bethany tavern run by Lazarus, with Martha and Mary hustling behind the scenes. Passover pilgrims are crowding in. It’s hot, chaotic, and full of life.

Martha is working furiously. Mary? She’s seated beside Jesus—laughing.

Jesus Tells Riddles

Jesus: “What’s as small as a mouse but guards a house like a lion?”
Mary: “A key! I guessed it!”

Jesus: “It’s as small as a nut, has no feet, but climbs mountains.”
Mary: “A snail!”

Jesus: “Okay, one more. It has no bones, is never quiet, and is sharper than scissors.”
Mary: “Hmm… I don’t know.”
Jesus: “Your tongue, Mary. It never rests!”

They’re cracking jokes, swapping riddles, enjoying one another.
Not praying. Not planning. Not “producing.” Just being.

Martha, frustrated and overworked, finally bursts out:
“Jesus, tell my sister to help me!”

And he answers gently but firmly:
“Mary has chosen the better part.”

Jesus and the Sacredness of Play

That might sound scandalous to us—Jesus dismissing work?

But it’s entirely consistent with his teachings. Jesus valued community over productivity, joy over profit, presence over anxiety.

And that should make us pause.

What if we took that seriously?

What if we reorganized our lives—and our economy—around the idea that play, rest, joy, and social connection are sacred?

What if we voted for leaders who supported:

Shorter workweeks
Guaranteed time off
Universal income
Job sharing
A culture centered around well-being instead of output?

In the End, What Really Matters?

Because when we reach the end, we won’t say:

“I wish I’d worked more overtime.”
“I should’ve answered more emails.”
“I’m glad I missed those birthday dinners.”

We’ll long for the laughter we didn’t share, the walks we skipped, the stories we never heard, the moments we missed with the people we loved most.

So, What Will You Choose?

Mary or Martha?

Work or presence?

Breadth of life or depth of joy?

“Mary has chosen the better part.”

We can too.

Let’s not wait until the deathbed to realize it.

A Wedding and Then a Funeral

phil-joann

Isn’t it strange how family events run together? Only two weeks ago, I officiated at the wedding of my niece, Jeanine. There I saw relatives I hadn’t laid eyes on in years and years. And then all of a sudden, just a fortnight later, most of us are together again – this time attending the funeral of Jeanine’s grandfather, my brother Jim’s father-in-law.

So this morning found me in St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church in Newaygo, Michigan at a Mass celebrating the life of Phil Loppiccolo, the father of my dear sister-in-law, JoAnn. (She’s pictured above with Phil and his wife Millie on JoAnn and Jim’s wedding day 50 years ago.)

Phil was only 14 years my senior, which means he died at the age of 90. (Am I really that close to 90?!!)

In any case, all morning my mind was filled with thoughts of this man who led such an adventurous, fulfilling and productive life. I found myself wondering about his whereabouts now.

Phil was part of what Tom Browkaw called “The Greatest Generation.” A year or so before the end of the Second World War, he joined the navy as a teenager. He wanted to do his part to defeat fascism. Then with the war over, he and Millie, contributed to the rebuilding of an economy devastated by the Great Depression.

Both of them were Michiganders and they took jobs in Detroit, the most dynamic city on the planet. Unlike today, it was the industrial center where presidents took foreign visitors to see the example par excellence of American can-do genius. Eventually, its African-American community made it an art mecca, producing an even more dynamic music admired and danced to throughout the world.

In Detroit, Millie and Phil worked in the transportation industry which was about to make a Great Leap Forward into a new era of truly mass transportation. As an engineer, Millie would eventually work for Learjet. Meanwhile, Phil took an administrative post at General Motors, where he worked for more than 30 years.

Can you imagine the sense of pride and purpose that this couple had as workers on the cutting edge of such dynamism? And all of this after Phil had done as much as he could to defeat what was (up until that time) western civilization’s greatest threat.

Phil retired from GM in his mid-fifties. My brother tells me that all his working life, his father-n-law had paid faithfully into a company pension plan. He had also bought a GM-sponsored healthcare arrangement promising to provide for him and Millie in their old age. Then came the Great Recession of 2008. And that was the end of that. Phil lost everything, while GM executives landed on their feet with golden parachutes and outlandish bonuses. Understandably, Phil never got over his sense of betrayal for that.

But professional accomplishments aside, it was in his family life that Phil and Millie Loppiccolo were most successful. As I said, they were the parents of JoAnn, who eventually warmly graced my brother Jim’s life. Together Jim and JoAnn had three children, Stephanie, Aaron, and Jeanine who turned out so splendidly. They gave Millie and Phil a total of those three grandchildren and seven accomplished and promising great grandchildren.

The Circle of Life is genuinely astounding in its tremendous beauty. As you can see, there is much to celebrate about the life of Phil Loppiccolo.

And now what? Phil has left us. And the truth is, we don’t know much for certain about the “heaven” he’s gone to.

In fact, we know very little about the “Eternal Life” promised by religions across the world. Uniformly, however they promise that life goes on. Death does not really exist, they say. It simply means changing rooms – going from one to another.

And that seems to hold true from what we can observe in nature. Just go for a walk in a forest. There you’ll see living trees and plants alongside apparently dead ones. However closer examination will show that what we consider “dead” is in reality teeming with life. Nothing really dies; it simply changes form.

The wise say that’s the way it is with human beings too. We apparently die. But we only change forms. Our spirits (our souls) come back to complete unfinished business in our assignment to become enlightened as modeled in the great Avatars like Jesus of Nazareth. He was the one who realized the unity of all creation. He lived that truth that constitutes our true vocation. He lived as though there were no difference between him and the most despised people in his culture – day laborers, prostitutes, lepers, insurgents, the poor and hungry, Samaritans, and hated foreigners. Again, that’s our vocation too. And eventually we’ll get it right.

The wise (like Jesus) console us by saying that whatever awaits us beyond this life is the absolutely best future imaginable for us. It is exactly what we need.

So if we take their word for it, if we believe what Nature itself tells us about “eternal life,” Phil Loppiccolo is precisely where he should be. He could not be in a better place – just as he was in the perfect place for him and for the rest of us this last time around.

Thank you, Phil, for all you have given us! May you rest in peace and enjoy Eternal Life!

What Happens after We Die? Rethinking Heaven

(Recently a friend asked me to post something on death and the afterlife. That’s a topic I think about very often. Here’s the first in a two-part blog on life-after-death.)

“We’re all going to die some day, Eva. Mommy will die. Daddy will die. Gaga and Baba will die too.”

“Baba’s going to die?”

“Yes, Baba will die too one day.”

“No, not Baba. Baba will never die. No!”

That touching conversation took place recently between my daughter, Maggie, and her daughter (our granddaughter) Eva. Eva was three then. She calls me “Baba.” She calls her grandma “Gaga.” And Eva was trying to come to grips with death – its inevitability, and the way it touches the ones we love. In that she’s like the rest of us. Death and what happens afterwards is and has always been a great mystery, something of a threat, and an object of denial. We don’t even want to think about it.

Earlier this year, Time Magazine’s Easter edition confronted all of that head-on. So did a friend of mine, Tony Equale, a former priest who blogs at http://tonyequale.wordpress.com/. Tony’s Easter blog was called “We Say That ‘God’ Is Love . . .” The Time article opened the question of heaven in a nicely popular way. However, it successfully avoided shedding light on the question of what really happens after we die. Tony Equale’s piece involved no such evasion. Its answer was clear, extremely thoughtful and challenging. But it also left me undeniably uncomfortable. I’m not sure I liked the heaven Tony suggested awaits us.

The Time Magazine cover story was a piece by Jon Meacham called “Rethinking Heaven.” Basically, it compared two approaches to the afterlife. The one Meacham termed the “Blue Sky” approach would be familiar enough even to three-year-old Eva and to most Christians for that matter. After death, good people go up in the sky to “heaven,” where they live with God, Jesus, and all the people they love happily ever after.

The other approach favored by Meacham himself and attractive to what he sees as the “younger generation, teens, college aged who are motivated . . . to make a positive difference in the world” is a metaphor for “how you live your life.” “What if,” Meacham asks, “Christianity is not about enduring this sinful, fallen world in search of a reward of eternal rest? What if the authors of the New Testament were actually talking about a bodily resurrection in which God brings together the heavens and the earth in a wholly new, wholly redeemed creation?” In the words of N.T. Wright, a New Testament scholar, and the former Anglican Bishop of Durham, England, “’heaven isn’t a place where people go when they die.’ In the Bible, heaven is God’s space, while earth (or if you like, ‘the cosmos’ or ‘creation’) is our space. And the Bible makes it clear that the two overlap and interlock.”

A person of faith, the Time Magazine author adds, must decide which “heaven” to believe in. The decision makes a difference. The “Blue Sky” approach makes life on earth and issues such as climate change and HIV/AIDS less important. The alternative makes stewardship imperative. The alternative makes it important to follow “Jesus’ commandment in Matthew 25 to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger and clothe the naked as though they had found Jesus himself hungry, homeless or bereft.”

Like Meacham, I find the “God’s space” approach to heaven on earth more believable and adult than the “Disneyland in the Sky” understanding. Just as I’m convinced that some people endure hell here on earth (the victims of Abu Ghraib come to mind), so also there are people in “heaven” (like Mother Theresa or the Dali Lama). But still, what about death? What happens afterwards? If it’s not Disneyland, what can we expect or hope for? That’s where my friend Tony Equale comes in.

(Next Wednesday: Our Fate after Death)