The book of Job, a lengthy exploration of suffering and our
relationship with God, concludes with this simple verse: “Then Job died, old
and full of years.”
What are the implications of being “full of years” when we
die? It sseems like the longer we live, the more we forget; for
example, do you remember what did you did to celebrate your 15th birthday, let
alone what you had for lunch a week ago
today? Although many of the specifics of our life fade over time, it is also
true that the stories of all those years is contained in our body’s cellular
memory, often appearing as scars, graying hair, laugh lines, and an emotional response
to certain aromas.
Ah, but what about when the container of our body dies? As
it turns out, the imprint of our life remains through our interactions with the
earth and with other beings. The life of St. Benedict is a prime example; more
than 1500 years after his death, many religious and oblates throughout the
world are living containers of his wisdom as we seek to live according to the
rule he left us.
Although most of us don’t leave a written contribution to
the world’s wisdom literature, we do leave behind the lived wisdom of being “full
of years.” What we say and do matters. Every day we can choose to renew our
commitment to listen, to serve, and to observe God’s wonders, so we can leave a
legacy of love and joy in the world’s repository of wisdom for those who follow
us and with whom we are already connected in the body of Christ.
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