Barely thought-out thoughts

I have been struck by the outpouring of grief over the death of Jack Layton: especially by the young. Judging from the massive coverage in the Ottawa Citizen and the accompanying pictures, Ottawa is awash in tears ... and Orange Crush. The latter was handed out by mourners at some point during the appointed time of official mourning. The use of my once-favourite soda pop is in reference to the surprise electoral tidal wave that the NDP (whose colour is orange) managed to produce during the last federal election, landing them as the official opposition.

The admiration of and grief over Jack Layton and his death reminds me that the world needs saints. Layton is the saint of the secular, socialist cause; and Orange Crush is his relic. I suppose it could also be used as a sacramental. And that is where my critique ends for the day: I will not address the causes he supported except to say that his passion was remarkable - I only wish he hadn't been so passionate about a few of the more questionable issues.

Reading the newspaper and on-line eulogies, accounts of his death, opinion pieces and interviews with politicos and average joes on the street leaves one with a pretty clear understanding of why he was admired, and now mourned. Countless people refer to his identification with the little guy, his genuine distress over individual suffering, his tireless work schedule, his determination to bring the suffering of the poor to a blue-chip audience. There is no doubt much to be admired. He is hailed as the conscience of Toronto (if not the whole country) and barely anyone can elucidate an opinion without the brushing back of tears. Religious or not, it is clear that the human condition begs for heroes.

Despite all of this, what I find most interesting is how people speak of his character in the face of his own suffering, his battle with cancer, his hip replacement and his eventual death. I read one account of a four hour meeting barely a week before his death in which he helped hammer out the future of the party despite his significant physical distress. It is this courage by which people are struck. He soldiered on through pain; indeed, the crutch that he used during the last election campaign was apparently what helped people to most identify with him: "Hey, he's just a guy like us! He needs new joints too. And perhaps Tylenol."

For some reason the crutch resonated most strongly in Quebec.

I find it fascinating that the leader of the party that most strongly advocates for the legalisation of euthanasia faced his own death with such dignity. He accepted his suffering and died according to a schedule that was not his own. And, guess what? Such a death speaks loudly to so many, especially the young. I only wish that he had lived long enough to write about it.

The whole thing reminds me of a story that my dad recently shared with me. He said that he read somewhere that a psychology professor told his undergraduate class that they should accept that suffering is a part of life; indeed, that suffering has meaning and doesn't need to be avoided. Apparently the class wiped its collective brow and breathed a sigh of relief as they had grown up being told that their sole purpose in life was happiness. When one is fed the solo felicitas (sorry, bad Latin) line one is understandably flummoxed if not scandalised when one encounters one's own suffering. When there is no understanding of the reality of sin and its effects, one is left ungrounded and with a lot of questions and frustrations:

What's wrong with me?

Why am I not happy?

I'm supposed to be happy!

Everyone else is happy!

My new jeans do not make me happy. (Let alone my haircut.)

My relationship failed again.

I must be faulty.

I can understand why that undergrad class welcomed their professor's words: they must have been a tremendous relief.

I think that the way that Jack Layton faced his sickness and death produced a similar relief among Canadians who watched him throughout the past two years. Dare I say his example provides hope, an example to follow? Because we all need someone to look up to.

I hope that his devoted Orange Crushees remember his example in the face of suffering: suffering that comes to all, can't be regulated, can't be wished away and can't be terminated at will. The outpouring of love, grief and admiration for Jack Layton speaks eloquently not to the purpose of his suffering but to the courage with which he faced it. May God have mercy upon his soul.