A Good Death

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Tristan, the protagonist of the short story Legends of the Fall by Jim Harrison, is said to have had “a good death.” Is there a good way to die and a bad way to die? Physically speaking, many people reflect on it; but what about spiritually? All of the great religious traditions speak of the importance of shadow boxing. There is a part of our self, our ego, that is a “false self”—a persona built on a shaky foundation that needs to die or be transformed. There is also a “true self” that needs to emerge. The real you.

If you are from the Christian tradition, you are aware of the Apostle Paul’s writings. He talks about dying to the self quite often. One of the classic chapters on this topic is Galatians 5. Paul writes, “The sinful nature wants to do evil, which is just the opposite of what the Spirit wants. And the Spirit gives us desires that are the opposite of what the sinful nature desires. These two forces are constantly fighting each other, so you are not free to carry out your good intentions” (Gal. 5:17). Then he describes the fruit of the sinful nature: “When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, sorcery, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, dissension, division, envy, drunkenness, wild parties, and other sins like these” (Gal. 5:19-21). Notice that the fruits of the sinful nature (or false self) are a list of behaviors. These behaviors can be symptomatic of the false self. They are not a list of core emotions (with the exception of anger, but the focus is on the outburst not the anger itself).

I think this is an important distinction which could lead to a good death versus a bad death of the false self. For decades I tried to “die to self” by subduing, ignoring, or battling my negative emotions. I was thinking this was the way to die to bad behaviors. However, the opposite is true. Suppressing negative emotions leads to a host of other issues like depression, anxiety, guilt, and shame. (See Hilary Jacobs Hendel, It’s Not Always Depression.)

Let me explain through a traumatic childhood story (what Hendel would call a small “t” trauma). Between my kindergarten and first grade school experience, we moved to a new neighborhood in Prairie Village, Kansas. I would walk about a mile to school (even in the snow, uphill, both ways). On the way home, I was bullied virtually every day. A large, heavy set third grader would confront me on one of the corners and beat me up almost every day on my way home.

I would arrive home in tears, and I didn’t want to go back to school. My dad decided to teach me how to box. He taught me how to make a fist, how to throw punches, and how to avoid punches. He sparred with me in the living room. I remember when he thought I was ready—he looked me in the eyes and said, “Now Fred, if the kid tries to beat you up again, you fight him back. Don’t come home crying again, or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Now I was really scared. It was like double jeopardy. I went to school the next day and could not concentrate on anything. All I could think about was the fight. I was a nervous wreck.

Well sure enough the kid was at the corner and started to bully me again. I made a fist and started swinging. I had never fought back. I caught him off guard. He fell backwards to the ground and I sat on his chest and just started pounding on his face with my fists. All my fear and anger were poured out in that moment of violence. I don’t think I was strong enough to hurt him, but his pride was wounded in front of his friends. I exhausted myself and let him up. He ran home crying.

I walked home on an adrenaline rush. I felt like I had defeated my biggest fear. I gained the respect of all my peers. Nobody messed with me again. I had fought back and won.

My dad loves me with all his heart. He’s my greatest fan. I’ve often thought about what I would have done in his shoes. He knew if he went down to the school and tried to fight my battle for me I would not gain the self-respect I needed. It was a different time culturally in America (1966) and most dad’s in America would have done the same thing. Even if I got beat, my dad knew that if I put up a good fight I would gain respect. Like two MMA fighters hugging after a bloody fight.

Interestingly, I didn’t become a bully. In fact, that’s the only physical fight I have ever had my entire life (with the exception of karate matches). I learned how to stand up for myself and gain respect in other ways. My dad taught me those skills as well. But thinking back, it did have a negative consequence. I learned how to subdue my negative emotions through battling them and fighting them. I never learned how to listen to my negative emotions with love, curiosity, openness, and self-compassion. What are my emotions telling me? When I linked up negative emotions with negative behavior, I felt like it was my job to fight, battle, and subdue my negative emotions.

This is not a good death spiritually or emotionally. Suppressing, ignoring, or fighting negative emotions does not work in the long run, and it causes a multitude of other problems. A good death to the false self sets us free; it integrates and transforms us. A bad death just makes us more ill.

While Paul in Galatians teaches us about the struggle between the false self and the true self (very real), describes the fruit (symptoms) of the false self and true self, and points to our resurrected self in Christ as our hope; he does not provide a model for dealing with negative emotions. It wasn’t his focus.

The psalms of lamentation are the best place in Scripture to learn how to deal with negative emotions. There are about forty-two psalms of lament in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament). If you read through all of these psalms you would see a pattern: invocation, complaint, request, hope, and praise. The complaints express every negative emotion in the human repertoire. (Hendel identifies core emotions as fear, anger, grief, excitement, disgust, and sexual excitement. The famous “Feeling Wheel” developed by Dr. Gloria Wilcox identifies core emotions as sad, mad, scared, peaceful, powerful, and joyful. Core emotions are hardwired in our brain and body. Hendel identifies inhibitory emotions as shame, guilt, and anxiety.)

This pattern of expression of negative emotions in the Psalms of lament is a healthy pattern. We need to learn to listen to our negative emotions and express them. We might share them with God, with our journal, with a friend or partner, with a support group, or with a therapist. But it is important to hear and to understand our negative emotions. It’s also incredibly important to end up in a place of hope and gratitude as we express our negative emotions. That can take effort—even a daily gratitude list when we don’t feel grateful.

The Psalms of lament give us a mentally healthy pattern. At times these psalms are messy and raw and vicious. They express doubt and anger towards God. They question God and challenge God. I have talked to many people who don’t like these psalms—they are too raw. But it’s so important for emotional, spiritual, and relational health. The individual and communal Psalms of lament make up almost a third of the book of Psalms. Jesus quoted from Psalm 22 on the cross. Even Jesus felt utterly abandoned by God and expressed it.

Healing comes by releasing negative emotions in a healthy way. Hendel gives a simple four step process which can be applied throughout the day: (1) pause and breath; (2) tune in and listen to your body; (3) Identify underlying core emotions and name each one; and (4) think through best actions. I have had to work on this process in a deep way through therapy, journaling, mindfulness meditation, and prayer.

Our negative emotions are important and they must be integrated into our true self. They will teach us important truths about ourselves. Our negative emotions can lead us to positive change at work, at home, and at play. They have a purpose. I am learning how to do this, but quite frankly, I’d rather just beat up my negative emotions. Sharing them makes me feel weak, but I’m telling myself that’s not a bad thing—feeling weak. It’s a good death.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023