The Garden of Death
Last week I finally pulled my garden. It’s a task I always dread. As long as the plants are in the ground, there is still a chance we could enjoy more tomatoes, beans, or squash. But, with cooler weather finally descending upon our region, it was time to admit that the growing season was over, and it was time for the garden to go dormant.
It was with a touch of irony that the next day, while scrolling through social media, I came across this painting by Hugo Simberg, titled The Garden of Death. There is a part of me that is revulsed by the portrayal of Death as three skeletons wrapped with black cloaks. The figures are so stark, so in your face. Yet, there they are, placed in a garden, tenderly nurturing the flowers in their care.
Even though Death itself is viewed as the end of all life, in this portrayal, there are signs of life all around. One figure carefully waters pots of flowers. Another presses a blue flower to its breast, holding it close, almost comforting it. The third figure is at work, even though we can’t see the care it is giving to the flower before it. In this painting, Unlike other portrayals of Death, here it doesn’t seem so scary. Rather, it feels peaceful and nurturing.
The garden is “the place where the dead go before they go to heaven.” - Hugo Simberg
In A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis speaks of his deep grief following the death of his wife. As he processes his grief, Lewis alludes to the painful truth at that, when Joy did die, he wouldn’t be able to go through that with her. He realized that though a person may be surrounded by loved one, when that moment comes, dying is something we can only do alone. Truth be told, this reality breaks my heart. As someone who doesn’t really like to be alone, the idea that we could make that giant leap by ourselves grieves me. Yet, as a follower of God, I have to believe this isn’t the full story.
Like so many of you, I cling to Jesus’ promise that he has gone before us and prepared a place for each of us in the presence of God. We read the witness of John in Revelation, when he stood in the presence of God and heard people from all over the world singing their praises. At every funeral, we are reminded that in the renewed creation, there will no longer be pain or sorrow. These promises help so many of us hold on when our hearts are hurting and life is more than we feel we can bear. These scripture help us let go of those we love into the arms of Jesus.
In his painting, Simberg doesn’t soften Death. But, like our scripture, he does offer the idea that this space is sacred. Death tenderly cares for the flowers while they are in its care.
As I look at the painting, my eyes continue to be drawn to the path behind that leads from this gardening spot to something beyond. A path which seems to wind between a grove of trees, leading those who follow it on to what is next. C.S. Lewis’ imagery from The Great Divorce comes to mind - higher up and further in. Even into the arms of Jesus and the presence of our God.
And so, just as that newly bare plot of land in our yard is not the end of my garden, this painting done almost 225 years ago reminds me that death as we experience it isn’t the end of our stories.
When it is time next spring, my husband and I will go out and till our small plot of land. And, although last year’s plants are shriveled up in my compost bin, the seeds they dropped will take root and sprout in the freshly turned soil. Zinnias will sprout up among the cucumber plants. Cherry tomato plants will appear among our okra plants. They will be tended, and maybe they won’t be standing in the presence of God. But they will remind me that death is a part of our human cycle, one which we will never walk alone or uncared for.
May these thoughts be a peace and a comfort to all who read them today.
