(The Nationalist, 6 November 2000)
In the days of the Habsburg Empire, it was the custom that when an emperor died he would be buried from the church of the Capuchin friars in Vienna. And traditional protocol was followed in the conduct of the funeral service.
As the cortège approached the church, the master of ceremonies of the imperial court would approach the locked doors of the church, knock with his staff of office, and call out, ‘Open the doors to receive the body of his imperial and royal highness, Franz Josef von Habsburg,’ or whoever it was. And he would list the titles of the dead monarch, who, since he had been an emperor, had many: he was not only Emperor of Austria but also King of Hungary, King of Bohemia, Prince of This, and Archduke of That, Count of Somewhere Else and Knight Commander of many Orders. It made an impressive list of titles and honours. But a voice would answer from within the church, ‘We do not know him’. And the doors would remain shut.
The master of ceremonies would knock again, ‘Open the doors to receive the body of the late Franz Josef von Habsburg’. This time there was no list of titles. Once again the voice would answer, ‘We do not know him’. And the doors would remain shut.
A third time the master of ceremonies would knock on the door, this time gently with his knuckles, ‘Open the door to Franz Josef, a poor sinner who asks for Christian burial’. And a voice from within would answer, ‘We know him!’ and the doors would open and the body be received into the church as the Requiem Mass began.
‘Sceptre and crown come tumbling down,
and in the dust be equal made,
with the poor crooked scythe and the spade,’ wrote the poet.
Death is the great leveller; it is no respecter of persons. Rich or poor, powerful or powerless, it claims all equally. Death is the one absolutely certain fact of life.
A Russian Orthodox bishop wrote, ‘Death is the touchstone of our attitude to life. People who are afraid of death are afraid of life…. If we are afraid of death we will never be prepared to take ultimate risks; we will spend our life in a cowardly, careful, timid manner…. Too often we wait until the end of life to face death, whereas we would have lived quite differently if only we had faced death at the outset. Most of the time we live as if we were writing a draft for the life that we will live later. We live, not in a definitive way, but provisionally, as though preparing for the day when we will really begin to live…. Only awareness of death will give life this immediacy and depth, will bring life to life, will make it so intense that its totality is summed up in the present moment. All life is at every moment an ultimate act.’ (Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh, Sobornost, I.2, {1979}, p.8)