The hope of the Christian in suffering and dying has to be a hope that bears the suffering one has been given, and never abandons the reliance on God’s promised fidelity. That is surely one of the hardest of the hard Christian truths: that suffering well requires one not simply seek to eradicate it, but to in some measure accept it. 

February is a good month to write, read, and think about death and dying. It is still constantly dark, it is cold, and winter seems to have now become a permanent reality. Yet at the same time, spring is on the horizon; we begin to see a glimmer of light, to feel the stirrings of hope. 

So, all in all, a propitious time to reflect on Sen. Ben Sasse’s announcement, in December of last year, that he has been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. As he says, that diagnosis is without doubt a death sentence, a death that will be upon him rather quickly. He has now prematurely entered his own winter, and however much time he has left will in some ways be an ongoing February of suffering. 

Yet Sasse’s announcement reveals to us both goods and virtues that show in his dying a glimmer of light, a stirring of hope, and the possibility of spring even in one’s final winter. All of us labor under the same death sentence that Sasse does, and so it is worth our time to reflect upon the lessons he offers us. 

Let’s start with the importance of knowledge. How many of us might be tempted to fantasy when given a lethal diagnosis? But Sasse confronts the truth: “Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.” No mincing words; no turning away from truth. 

Unquestionably this knowledge brings suffering. Indeed, suffering just is the awareness that things are not right, that our world, our character, our relationships with other human persons and with God, are broken. But Sasse’s unflinching acknowledgment of the truth of his situation is good in itself, as all knowledge is, but also essential for him to be able to address his dying days in a way that allows him to suffer well, to realize whatever aspects of human flourishing—and there are many—that remain for him. 

One of the goods available to him is friendship. One cannot read Sasse’s announcement without rejoicing that he will not die alone. To have “half-a-dozen buddies” who are like brothers is indeed, as he says, a blessing. And “friends,” for Sasse, and it is to be hoped for all of us, includes family. Sasse movingly writes of his wife of three decades as “the best friend a man could ever have,” and he writes equally of the friendships he shares with his siblings, parents, and children.  

To reiterate, such friendships are a blessing in dying as in living, and those who wish to die well need to remember this essential truth: not to die alone requires that one not live alone. Of course, one cannot cultivate real friends simply in order to have company in one’s death; but one’s life will be deficient in its living and ending if one has not sought and made good friends.  

Sasse writes, “We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and I’ve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape.” Good! Death and dying are serious business, but even serious business can be enhanced by playfulness, by a recognition that the tragedy of human existence is complemented by its continuing comic nature. 

Those old enough to remember the ad that went “How do you spell relief? R-O-L-A-I-D-S” can perhaps appreciate my family’s response, almost forty years ago, to the funeral home director who oversaw our own father’s death at forty-five from cancer, and who intoned to us, “I hope sorrow brings relief.” Many a Rolaids joke followed, and the humor kept us going in dark days. I hope the same is true for the Sasse family. 

Let me mention one more good I discern in the way Sasse seems to approach death and dying: the good of beauty. Looking to the next life, he anticipates an “enduring beauty,” and an eternity of singing God’s praise. 

It is impossible to think this longing for beauty and song in the life to come will not manifest itself now, in the life he still lives. And so should it be for us all. In addition to being, like humor, a balm against suffering, the enjoyment of real beauty offers us, I believe, a foretaste of that life to come. Those who are dying should seek it out; those who care for the dying should strive, amid their many other responsibilities, to make it available. 

I have thus far discussed the goods that are available to Sasse in his dying and that still, all the evidence of his announcement shows, animate his living: knowledge, friendship, family, humor, beauty. But Sasse also points to how certain virtues can make all the difference between dying well and dying poorly. 

Begin with gratitude. It surely helps in bearing one’s sufferings if one is at the same time a grateful person.

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