So Much Death

Last week, one of my students died.

He was a husband and father, and he was one month away from graduation. He fell ill, and within just a few days, passed away. He was gone before I even knew he was sick. Unfortunately, his story is not all that unusual in Kenya.

Edwin was a student at a seminary in Kenya where I have taught several times. I was by no means one of his most imporant teachers, and to say "my student" only means that I had the privilege of having him in a few of the short classes I taught. There are other, very gifted teachers who spoke much more into his life.

Under normal circumstances, we talk about students in terms of their academic prowess, as if that's the most important attribute of being a student. Edwin did good work, and I appreciated his contributions in class and in group assignments. But his greatest attribute was not whether he was an A or a C student, but that he was committed to use whatever he learned. His identity as a student more about applying everything he could learn and less about grade cards or the idle accumulation of knowledge. He wanted to learn so that he could apply it right away.

Sometimes as students we say, "I don't even know why we're studying this." Someone chose it to teach to us, but somewhere along the way, we can end up without knowing what we're learning it for. On the other hand, when we know from the beginning how we're going to apply what we're about to learn, we are far more motivated to learn. Along the way, we ask far more pertinent questions, we solidify it as knowledge by actually using it, and then we have truly "learned."

This is where death comes in. Death is not more common in Kenya than in the US. The death rate in both countries is 100%. Life expectancy may differ, but there is no less death per capita. There is so much death ... in both countries!

Death is why we learn. "Why am I studying this?" Because one day, you will die.

That doesn't render your education meaningless. Quite the opposite! It makes what you learn precious. You will die one day ... but until that day, with a limited number of days between now and then, the things that we can do that will matter will require learning. In almost every case, what we-who-will-die can do that will have any real meaning requires us to learn. And so, because death is entirely common, we learn in order to do meaningful things.

Put another way, since we each only have a finite number of days left, it's hard to redeem those days with activities that require little learning. If we want to spend those days well, we remain students.

For example, it doesn't take much learning to spend time with your kids at the park. But we must be students of both our children and the world around us in order to connect our children to their habitat in a meaningful way. Where did the trees come from? Why does it matter to recreate as a family? Why is that guy on the bench homeless? And what should we do about it? How do you throw a curveball? Why should we pick up our trash (even from a theological perspective!)? Why is fair play important, since the workaday world is dog-eat-dog? Do I have enough money for ice cream? Why is that old woman alone - what is death? What happens after we die?

That which will be valuable in the dwindling days of our time here will be far more substantive if we're students. Death is why we learn this stuff.