Setting the scene: the Firefly ship containing Captain Mal and
his crew is out of gas. That is, the
ship sustained an explosion which knocked out its power and its life-support,
and everyone is rapidly running out of oxygen.
In a short time, if they remain aboard the ship, they will all die. Mal therefore orders them into the two
shuttles, and sends them out in opposite directions in the dim hope that they
will find help. He chooses to remain on
board the Firefly in case someone passing by responds to the distress call
which was sent out. The crew, knowing
the long odds against anyone responding in time, realizes that this choice of
Mal’s to remain on board is a death-sentence.
One of them, Inara, says to him, “This isn’t the ancient sea—you don’t
have to go down with the ship. Mal, you
don’t have to die alone.” Mal looks at
her at says, “Everybody dies alone.”
In
Mal’s bittersweet riposte, we hear the ancient voice of mankind, labouring long
and sorrowfully, the sad wisdom of a doomed race. Mal speaks here with noble and courageous
resignation in the face of the inevitable.
Mal is mankind, adrift in a tumultuous world, sure of little, except the
truth that everybody dies, and everybody dies alone. But Mal, for all his courage and nobility,
has forgotten one thing. He has
forgotten Pascha.
Pascha
reveals that we do not have to die alone, but that Christ our Lord, triumphant
over death, is now the Lord of both the dead and the of living (Rom.
14:9). A long tradition in the Church
speaks of angels escorting the soul to its destination, a journey of joy for
the saved whose hope is to “depart and to be with Christ” (Phil. 1:23). Monastic literature is replete with stories
of monks who at the moment of death stepped from the seen into the unseen
world—not alone, but into a realm populated with spiritual powers. One short example may suffice. It is said that when Abba Sourous died and
delivered up his soul “at once the angels received it, and choirs of martyrs
led it up to heaven, while the other monks looked on and heard the hymns”. Abba Sourous did not die alone. By His death, Christ brought life and
immortality to light through the Gospel (2 Tim. 1:10), and Abba Sourous died
attended by a multitude of angels and saints.
In a way truer
than she knew, Inara was right. Mal, you
don’t have to die alone. None of us
do. Christ has risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life.
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