All fear dying.But what is it that makes death such a mopey business?
All fear death.
Heavenly hosts, fiery furnaces, girls with grapes, breathless peace ... imagine, imagine, imagine ... mope, mope, mope.
But if everything is lost and everything is surrendered, what is it, precisely, that constitutes this "everything." What is it that is so disheartening?
My suspicion this morning is the "everything" that is lost is pretty simple.
What is lost is simply the willingness to complain.
That'd be enough to scare the pee down the pope's leg.
Let us now bow our heads in silence ... and mope.