There’s a mythological story which speaks to the reality of, and certainty of death.
Years before Gabriel spoke to the
Virgin Mary, or Moses rolled back the Red Sea, a powerful king named Zaidan
ruled and reigned in a faraway land. The king was proud of his country and his
people, and though he fiercely rendered justice to whom justice was due, he was
also known as a man of rich compassion.
And as you might expect, the good
king’s palace and its adjoining grounds were populated by a multitude of loyal
servants. And as you might also well imagine, the ruler of this great land
enjoyed the services of a few selected stewards whom had proved their loyalty,
and who had ministered to his daily needs over the course of decades.
One servant, in particular, a man
named Abdul, had from time immemorial fulfilled a brief, but (at least from the
king’s point of view) necessary task. Outside of that singular, daily task, he
was “given the run” of the palace, and little else was expected of him.
Oddly enough, when the waning shadows
on the sun dial registered the 6th hour of the afternoon, all
activity in the inner sanctum of the palace ceased, the king mounted his
throne, and a nearby eunuch slammed a mallet on a great silver cymbal. Three
times. And as the last echoes of the great gong ceased to reverberate, a great
door in the back of the massive room opened, and Abdul appeared, attired in
blue and crimson, and marched down the long aisle which separated him from the
ornate throne.
The king’s servants, male and female,
lined each side of the aisle; soldiers on his right. Handmaids on his left; as
Abdul navigated the fifty feet which separated him from the monarch whom he had
grown to love and respect.
Pt. 2
Having reached the foot of the great
throne, Abdul stopped, slammed his arms against his side, drew his left foot
against his right, silently cleared his throat, and shouted the words,
“Remember, oh king…one day you must
die!”
Having uttered those eight fateful
words, he executed a military about face movement, and retraced his steps down
the aisle, and out the main door of the inner sanctum.
And with this, the king stood and made
his way out a side door, and into his adjoining study. As the door closed
behind him, the assembled soldiers and handmaidens drifted back from whence
they’d come; Abdul’s poignant message having impacted not only their beneficent
ruler, but they, themselves.
“Remember, oh king…one day you must
die!”
Abdul might as well have shouted,
“Remember, Hakeem, Remember
Ayishah…one day you must die.”
The message simply never got old. It
was simply too ‘there there.’ And if the king was hyper-sensitive to the
message, Abdul the more so. It seemed to keep him and them focused on the
gravity of life, and the priorities, good, better and best, which surrounded
life.
And, dear readers, as I previously inferred,
having completed his dreary daily task, Abdul marched himself out of the ornate
throne room, and retreated to the servant’s quarters.
Having fulfilled his appointed daily
task for several years, the time came when Abdul began to feel a bit unfulfilled.
And one morning, after breakfast, he approached the king’s viceroy, and
requested an audience with his beloved master.
Pt. 3
Abdul lost no time in explaining
himself, and the viceroy lost no time in approving his request to meet with the
king.
And as quickly as his wish was
granted, Abdul was escorted into the king’s bedroom; (for he often had
breakfast in bed). His monarch smiled, and greeted his favorite servant with,
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of
your company so early in the day, my dear friend?”
Abdul cleared his throat, and spoke.
“Oh king, as important as I count my
daily task, I sense the need of something more, an additional role to take my
mind away from this dread, and dreary subject with which you have invested me;
(but which both you and I believe is so crucial to your life and kingdom”).
To which the king replied,
“Abdul, you have been a faithful
servant and a true friend to me. But if you feel you need some added task, I
will allow it. You know my aged servant, Mohammed, just recently stepped down
as my Steward of Royal Food Stuffs. I had been planning to procure a younger
man to assume his place. But since this role only requires two days each week
in which he mounted his camel, visited the local market, and ordered the
necessary foods and wines, I will allow you to assume this additional role.”
And though any outward change in a
solemn countenance in the king’s presence was considered disrespectful, Abdul
could not contain himself, and a great smile lit up his face.
But since the king sometimes dispensed
with formalities, and since he was alone with his dear friend, he could not
help but emit a resounding laugh; which seemed to rise up from the depths of
his belly.
Pt. 4
And while, Abdul continued to march down the
aisle of the throne room, and shouted the words he’d shouted so many times
before, he assumed the secondary role as the Steward of Royal Food Stuffs, and
made his way to the market on a bi-weekly basis.
A few weeks had passed since the
faithful Abdul had assumed his added duty, and as he was leisurely strolling
through the marketplace, and as he had begun to dicker with a local merchant
for three bushels of dates, and ten kilos of olives, he happened to cast his
eyes to the left, and what he saw caused an involuntary shudder to run up his
spine.
Death Incarnate
What, (or perhaps the word is ‘Who’)
greeted his eyes was none other than the Death Angel; (whom, as it fell
together, was, apparently invisible to everyone, but Abdul).
The hideous creature was robed in
black, (but contrary to our modern caricature, he held no scythe or sickle in
his hand). As Abdul looked up at the magnificent being, (for he stood head and
shoulders taller than the steward, and he was built like a proverbial bull) his
black and threatening eyes caused the hair to rise on his arms.
For all his daily proclamations, Adul
had never encountered the subject of his exclamations. Death. He immediately
forgot about the dates and olives, and for that matter gave no thought to his
mode of transportation; the camel which stood three paces away. But rather, he
turned and ran as quickly as his feet could carry him away from the market, and
into the desert. A full hour elapsed before he slowed, and began to walk.
Another hour passed before he noticed the spire of the king’s palace, and he
strode wearily through its main gate.
Pt. 5
Abdul lost no time in approaching the
king, nor did he seek permission to do so; another breach in royal etiquette.
But there was simply no time for etiquette.
He found the king just outside his
royal harem; as he stood interviewing another potential concubine.
Falling down before him, Abdul
exclaimed,
“Oh king, forgive my insolence; just
this once. But allow me to make my plea. As I was in the marketplace today, and
busy with the culinary affairs of my master, I saw something almost
unspeakable. I saw the darkest, most evil creature you can possibly imagine. I
saw the Death Angel. And dear friend (may I call you, ‘friend’) his gaze was
absolutely penetrating, and great fear permeated the recesses of my soul!”
(and)
“Oh king, I gave no thought to the
royal camel, but found my way out of the dark Angel’s presence, and crossed the
desert on foot. Dear king, if I have pleased you, if I have done those things,
and more that has been expected of me, loan me your best camel, and allow me to
flee to the City of Samarra!”
As Abdul looked up from his place on
the floor, he noticed something he had never seen throughout the multiplied
years he’d served the king. A tear ran down the royal cheek, and anger suddenly
registered on his countenance.
“My friend, of course you may borrow
my prize camel. Lose no time! Make haste! Do not delay!”
And with this, Abdul kissed the king’s
feet, rose from the floor, and made good his escape.
Needless to say, the king was
incensed, and immediately ordered a garrison of soldiers to accompany him to
the city in search of the interloper.
Arriving at the marketplace, the king
cast his eyes among the hundred or so booths and stands which greeted him.
Suddenly, he spotted the horrible creature; lingering near the place where his
faithful servant encountered him.
Accompanied by his soldiers, he
approached the dark gruesome beast, and exclaimed,
“Oh Death, my faithful servant, Abdul,
was here just six hours hence, and he told me he saw you, as I see you with my
own eyes now. And my faithful steward and friend, Abdul, claimed you glared at
him, and threatened him with your gruesome countenance! Please give an account
of yourself.”
To which the dark Angel of Death bared
his yellow fangs, but spoke, it seemed, rather softly.
“Oh good king, I did not threaten your
servant. I was only surprised to see him. For you see, I have an appointment
with him tonight
…in the City of Samarra.”
Afterward
Over the
past couple of weeks, I have experienced an unusual trend the likes of which I
have never experienced before.
I was
scheduled to see my dermatologist on a particular date next month, and realized
that we were heading out of state the day of the appointment. I attempted to
call a couple of times to reschedule my appointment, and after being put on
hold I left a message, twice. And each time exactly nothing happened. I didn’t
receive a return call from the doctor’s office. As a result, after two
successive failures to return my calls, I got in my car and drove thirty miles
to the dermatologist’ office, told them I had left two messages, that no one
had returned my calls, and rescheduled my appointment.
And then we
were scheduled to visit a local attorney’s office the end of this week to
complete our Last Will and Testament, along with a couple of other forms
related to our estate. Yesterday we received a call from the lawyer’s office.
They had to cancel our appointment, as the result of a death in the family.
However, one of the other attorneys in the office would be happy to meet with
us the same day and hour… by phone. We politely declined and told the
receptionist that we would reschedule at a later date. I simply am not going to
interact about such a life-ending topic as death and disposal of my property by
phone.
And then I
was scheduled for my six month doctor’s appointment this week. As a result, I
reported to the diagnostic company yesterday for my lab testing. After sitting
down in the chair, and providing my name and insurance cards, I was informed
that the doctor’s office hadn’t sent the order. As a result, I drove home,
called the doctor’s office, and made them aware of this omission. I was assured
they would contact the lab, and that I should return today. Having driven to
the diagnostic center today, and having been escorted into the specimen room,
the lab technician checked the computer, and once again the doctor’s office had
failed to provide the required documentation. As a result, I called the
doctor’s office again today, and informed them of the situation, and I rescheduled
my appointment for a later date.
All that to
say this. While several of my appointments were confused, delayed and
rescheduled, each and every one of us have a scheduled appointment which will
not be changed or rescheduled. Like Abdul in the story you just finished
reading, our appointment with death is certain, and unchangeable, and the date
is engraved in a proverbial stone, as surely as the date will one day be
engraved in a literal stone which marks our final resting place. Certainly not
the “funnest” subject anyone will bring up today, but it is an eventuality for
which we must prepare.
by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending
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