Lillian DeGennaro
Dr. Ahearn
Dialogue with World Faith Traditions
14 September 2017
Reflection on the Holy
The idea of the holy is one that cannot be simply defined; the holy is a vast concept, and it means something different to every person – whether or not he or she is religious. Sacredness can be felt in things that seem mundane and secular, depending on a person’s outlook and beliefs. Sacredness can also be felt in transitional points in one’s life – times that are considered special and that deeply contrast from ordinary life because, during these moments, humans question their existence and recognize the mortality and fragility of man (Smith 145-146). I experienced one of these crisis points, and the subsequent sacredness that tends to be attached to such events, when my dog passed away this week.
My Bullmastiff, Oswald, had been abandoned on the side of Interstate 85 and had been there for months before my father’s friend sent us a picture of him and we decided to adopt him. As soon as my family brought him home, I was intent on nursing him back to health, as he had skin irritation, wounds, and was severely malnourished. My mother and I worked tirelessly to help him, and eventually, he was healthy and happy. My devotion to helping him resulted in the development of an extreme attachment; my family would always joke that I was his “person.” We were inseparable. He followed me around everywhere, slept in my bed, and was frequently by my side. He was truly my best friend.
A couple months ago, Oswald developed a limp. He cried out in pain often and could not put pressure on his back leg. We took him to the veterinarian, and the doctor told us that he had a tumor in his bone, one that was causing him immense pain and making it extremely hard for him to walk. We had three options: we could get him euthanized, leave the tumor, or get his leg amputated. We decided to get his leg amputated, as most dogs adjusted fairly quickly, and lived pain-free for up to a year after amputation; it was his best chance at survival.
Oswald was not as lucky as most dogs. His cancer came back in his lungs a little over a month after his surgery. He could barely walk or breathe and did not act like himself. He no longer got excited about food, walks, or animals in the back yard. It was painful to see him like that; he did not look or act like he was happy. The veterinarian told us that we would have to euthanize him soon, as he would suffer otherwise.
On September 11th, Oswald was at his worst. He could not even get up to eat or go outside. He was wheezing and having extreme trouble breathing. He was crying out in pain every time he attempted to move. We knew that he would not make it through the night. We made the decision to have him euthanized in our home that afternoon because he was not living any semblance of a “good” life.
The veterinarian arrived at our house, and my mother asked me if I wanted to leave the room during the procedure, but I could not leave. I was his “person,” his best friend, and I had to be there to hold him and tell him that I loved him and that everything would be okay as he drifted off. I did just that. Even though I was devastated, I felt a sense of divine peace in that moment because I knew that he was aware he was loved and that he was going to that “better place” – a realm where he no longer felt pain, where he was happy and was able to do all the things he had loved to do before he had gotten sick.
As sad as this experience was, it brought forth an awareness of peace and facilitated my complete trust in God, which made the event holy in the traditional sense. As a Christian, I could feel God’s presence. Witnessing a death of any kind can invoke feelings of anxiety, but it can also help one realize that God is all-powerful and will take care of loved ones even after their time on Earth is over.
My experience was different from routine life, as it involved life and death, and thus, pertained to the “crisis points” that J.E. Smith speaks about in The Sacred and the Profane. Profane existence is, by definition, all the events of day-to-day life that do not have significance in terms of “mystery and power” (Smith 147). My experience was sacred because it contained this significance. There will always be mystery in situations involving death because no one can know for certain what happens to people or animals after they die, making most deaths a sacred experience, as one must rely on his or her faith for explanation of such matters. There is also power in experiences such as mine. One can feel the power of a divine being because such a being is almost always believed to hold one’s fate (and, therefore, life and death) in his hand. More so than the power to take or give life, this divine being also holds the power to protect the deceased in an afterlife, which brings people comfort in situations like mine.
I also felt the numinous in the sense Otto described in The Elements in the Numinous. In this text, Otto described a holy experience as one in which a person feels the numinous as “objective and outside the self,” while experiencing what is called mysterium tremendum; mysterium tremendum refers to the distinct kind of fear or dread one feels when presented with the sacred, due to the peculiar feeling of mystery it evokes (Otto 3). First of all, I felt God’s presence to be outside myself in the sense that it made me aware of a greater plan and bigger picture, one that He controlled. I also experienced mysterium tremendum right after Oswald passed away because, for a moment, I worried about where he was going after his life had ended. I believe in heaven, but I wondered if he would go there, how animals are judged, what it was like there, and if he would be happier there than he had been in his last few weeks of life. This feeling of dread about the afterlife allowed me to realize what Otto meant when he said that emotion, rather than morality, was the basis of religion. We feel this so often; not only with death, but with any matters of importance that are attributed to God’s will. As human beings, we are terrified of the unknown, so anything out of our control can prompt a certain type of anxiety that can be differentiated from all other types in existence (Otto 3). Mysterium tremendum is more than just fear though; it can be felt as awe (Otto 3). The transcendent and personal nature of God contributed to the ense of awe that I felt in my experience (Molloy 14). I thought about how God was in heaven, where he was watching over me and my family, while protecting Oswald, who was given a chance of a “good” life in heaven. God was exhibiting compassion at the same time, helping me feel safe and tranquil during such a difficult time.
The fact that this occurred in my home added to the sense of holiness. My home exists as a sacred space to me. Mircea Eliade writes that a person’s sacred space is “the center of the world” for him or her (Eliade 22). My home has always been the “center of my world” and therefore, it has been distinguishable from other places I have visited. Having such a profound and terrifying moment happen in my home only added to the feeling of divinity during the event.
Although it may seem obvious that God’s presence can be felt in experiences involving death, I never expected to feel the numinous in such a pure and complete way. When Oswald passed away, I was able to feel God and holiness both in my heart (as divine awe and dread) and in the space around me, which was a great comfort to me.