Death is the greatest of our fears. Most of us believe it to be a
cruel, catastrophic finality-the end of all we know, of all we are. Yet,
Albert Einstein said, "When gazing into the profoundly moving beauty of
the eternal, life and death flow into one another. There is neither
evolution nor eternity, only Being."
Many
years ago, one of my patients offered me a glimpse into the unknowable.
By entering a realm between life and death, he discovered that the
point of passing can be a moment of transcendence. His story has allowed
me to see that death may not be the end, but could perhaps be a path to
other realities. Through him, I came to know life and death as
mysteries beyond human understanding. Through him, I was given a glimmer
of insight into the beyond to perceive the miracle of existence as an
exquisite mosaic about which we can only wonder. I have written his
story in my recent book, Courageous Confrontations.
My patient was
an overbearing Catholic priest, who after a lifetime of invoking the
wrath of the Almighty upon his parishioners, had a massive heart attack
and a cardiac arrest. Despite being on a heart-assist device, his heart
slowly began to fail.
Father More's heart attack left him in
despair. He had spent a lifetime begging God for salvation from the
inner demons caused by his childhood role in the death of a sadistic
father. Despite a lifetime of devotion, his prayers had been in vain.
But
as he began to intermittently lose consciousness in the Coronary Care
Unit, the pain that had oppressed him throughout his life began to fall
away. Father More had begun an astonishing series of healing experiences
that led to his religious and spiritual awakening.
Father More
was simultaneously dying, and moving into another realm, an inner
journey that opened him to a oneness with the divine, and an absolute
peace he had never before imagined. His prayers had been answered. At
the moment of his passing, Father More's last words were, "I'm coming
home to God."
Father More's confrontation with death opened me to
possibilities that were nonexistent in the scientific and intellectual
traditions in which I had been raised. Over time, I began to explore
realities that transcend those we know through science and technology.
As the physicist Werner Heisenberg wrote, "Scientific concepts cover
only a very limited part of reality, and the part that has not yet been
understood is infinite."
Medical science teaches that we are
biological beings, functioning according to physiological principles
that are governed by genetic codes and their biochemical elaborations.
Father More showed me that such reductionist notions are simplistic, and
don't begin to recognize or value the vast complexity of human beings.
William James said, "Rational consciousness as we call it, is but one
special type of consciousness, whilst all around it, parted from it by
the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness
entirely different...No account of the universe in its totality can be
final which leaves these disregarded...They cannot furnish formulas.
They open a region, though they fail to give a map."
All of us
have experienced moments when we are lost in a sunset, the rapture of
love, or a religious experience. At such times, the ordinary sense of
our separateness evaporates, and we often feel at one with the universe.
Perhaps in those moments, we have briefly entered another reality not
dissimilar to what Father More described during his out-of-body
experiences.
Were Father More's experiences
hallucinations--abnormalities of brain chemistry and nerve function
caused by oxygen deprivation? Or were they visions--vivid, life-altering
occurrences during which something appears within one's consciousness
that profoundly effects the heart and soul, perhaps even under the
influence of a divine or spiritual dimension?
What I do know is
that Father More's experiences altered my consciousness. When I sat
holding his hand as he died, I sensed an unmistakable presence.
Normally, watching one of my patients die devastates me. But at the
moment of Father More's death, I was filled with wonder. I too felt
released from ordinary reality, and was witness to a profoundly
spiritual process. Losing a patient for whom I cared deeply no longer
tormented me. Everything about Father More's passing seemed right, even
holy. In that moment, my own state was so blissful that it frightened
me. The foundation of my everyday being had fallen away, and I too was
perfectly at peace. As inexplicable as it was, nothing has ever seemed
more real.
Father More's teaching about death allowed me to see
that it may not be an end, but a possible path to other realities. Human
consciousness has been called spirit or soul--the part of us that
religions throughout history have referred to as eternal. The animating
energy that is consciousness--something medical science cannot locate in
the anatomy of our physical bodies--might at the moment of death,
simply change to another form within the miracle of existence.
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