Thought for the Day, 2 March 2006

The Rev. Dr Giles Fraser

Lent has begun. And all over the country people have given things up - potatoes or alcohol or chocolate. There's no better time to get in shape as the weather starts to improve. And so when Easter arrives, you will be ready to enjoy the summer, fitter, happier and healthier.

What total rubbish. Yesterday, I was given the news that I am going to die. "Know that you are dust and to dust you shall return" said the priest, as he marked my forehead with ash. That's the message with which Lent properly begins. And that's why the Lent of cheery self-improvement is such a con. It's not about being fitter and healthier; it's about facing our own mortality. No amount of jogging will ever outpace father time. No cream or cosmetic can ever prevent us from becoming dust.

However obvious this is, much of our culture is intent on hiding death away and denying its reality. We used to be coy about sex, telling children they were delivered by the stork. Now we are coy about death, referring to it as having "gone to sleep" or "passed away."

It's become common to spare a dying person the knowledge of their condition, so as not to upset them. We say "everything will be all right" and "you'll be on your feet in no time" when we know it's just not true. Often these well-meaning lies prevent important conversations from ever taking place: goodbye, sorry, I love you.

People used to die at home surrounded by their families. Now we mostly die discreetly in hospital, surrounded by machines still trying to keep us going.

It's interesting that during the middle ages the largest and most expensive building in the city would have been the cathedral. Today the largest and most expensive building in the city is the university hospital - billions of pounds of glass, steel and technology all bent on keeping us alive.

That says a lot about how our values have changed. In hospitals, doctors battle against death. Vast recourses are spent on life-saving technology. Often, behind it all is a very modern superstition - for we cannot be kept alive.

Yes, the medieval cathedral was a place of superstition too. But not about this. For when it comes to death, our ancestors were more grown up than we are. Death was an ever-present reality, not to be denied or avoided. They didn't hide it away. It prompted them to ask the big questions of human life and its purpose. What's it all about? What are we here for?

The problem with the Lent of healthy self-improvement is that's all about avoiding these questions by living the dream of perpetual well-being. Proper Lent forces us to stop running away and face the simple truth: Know that you are dust and to dust you shall return.