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Courage

Helen McCrory had just died of cancer, aged 52. Your prayers are, I am sure, appreciated by the angels in heaven.

One of the most famous actresses in the UK, and married to an even more famous actor (Damian Lewis), her death is very sudden, in the sense that very few people knew, and the news was kept from the public until the moment of death. Her young age makes this even more worth of a reflection or two.

The first reflection: modern “science” and the “miracles” of medicine do not allow anyone to escape his appointment with his Maker. Not even if a lot of money is available. One day, we will be called, too. That moment has been already set in stone. Every day, we march towards it.

The second reflection: I do not know whether the lady died at peace with the Lord, at least in the sense in which anybody can know, or hope, that anybody died at peace with the Lord. But I notice this: whether she was Christian or not, this does not seem to interest anybody, nor does it seem that she was interested in letting other people know. Religion has just flown out of the conversation. People die, they’re gone, everybody says how “courageous” they were, but they’re… gone.

It’s like saying that Rin Tin Tin was courageous. Look here, pal. The issue here is whether Mrs McCrory had an immortal soul, or not. If she had, forget “courageous” as there are other issues at stake now. If she (absurdly) hadn’t, then everything is absurd and meaningless, even “courage” at the end of an absurd sting of existence allowed to us, in this absurd perspective, to try to perpetuate our DNA.

The third reflection: apart from some Catholics, no one seems interested anymore in knowing in which state one’s soul has likely departed from this vale of tears. I think the milquetoast “Christians” have this bizarre idea that everybody goes to heaven, unless he is Stalin, whilst the Atheists prefer to blather about “courage”; something very strange, by the way, seen that undergoing three years of chemotherapy is seen as “brave”, but refusing to undergo it is “brave”, too. Everybody is so brave, and left the world such a better place. One wonders how the world has not become paradise on earth yet. Oh wait, I know why. But they don’t.

Fourth reflection: the chariteees. It seems that nowadays if you are not involved with a charity you are a selfish bastard. Charity work is the way irreligious people, and certainly a lot of atheists, define their own “goodness”. Even when the charity is serious, and not just a part of the immense, corrupted, charity machinery currently thriving in this Country, it does show a completely earth-bound thinking. Inevitably, not only was McCrory involved with a couple of charities, but this is seen, if you read around, as the other quality defining her (besides being, of course, an actress). “Wife and mother” is purely a factual event, that we don’t talk much about because very much, you know, old school. “Actress and charity worker” (which means: power woman and oh so sensitive) are, today, the defining traits of the deceased.

I do not know what Mrs McCrory thought about her immortal soul. If she believed in God, sin, and the like, it would have been very good not to keep this private as a help to others who might be in the same situation. If she did not believe in anything of that, well, I am sorry to rain on your parade but 400 years of charity work would not save her from hell, and the tributes that will now pour in are but a hollow, horrible theatre enjoyed by Satan alone.

A famous actress dies at 52, and it seems this is no encouragement to some serious reflections anymore.

But hey, famous and oh so good. And so courageous.

It seems to me that, if she had the real courage, it was the courage of looking at eternity in the face and make sure that she enters it reasonably prepared.

Strangely, this type of courage is not considered anymore.

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