The account of others similarly ends with death, underscoring the effectiveness of God’s warning to Adam: "In this day if thou eat of the tree of the commandment thou shalt die by death” (Gen. 2:17). This phrase, "and thou shalt die," recurrent throughout Scripture, acts as a hammer striking a stone, embedding the awareness of mortality deep within us and breaking the callousness of our hearts. If such long-lived individuals of the early world could not evade death, how much more certain is death for us, fleeting as our lives are on earth? Those who lived for centuries awaited their demise, yet for us, near the end of our lifespan, how soon must we confront it? Do we not recite nightly in our prayers, “Behold, my tomb approaches; behold, my death draws near”?
Let us, as mortals, reflect on what death truly is, its essence and purpose, and why a constant awareness of it is imperative. Death signifies the separation of the soul from the body, the dissolution of their natural union, and the disintegration of the elements that constitute humanity: the cessation of bodily function, the loss of sensation, the end of life, and the breakdown of human composition. A person is formed of both soul and body. In death, while the physical remains may still be present, they no longer constitute a person, since the immortal soul is now separated; thus, the body becomes merely a corpse and no longer a living being. The inherent nature of the living is to dread death, fearing the loss of existence, so that they cease to be as they were when alive. This marks the total eradication of the person, even before the Day of Judgment and the trumpet of the archangel that will awaken the dead.
Death, indeed, approaches silently, despite being universally acknowledged. What is more certain in our existence than death? As the apostle reminds us, “It lies with man alone to die” (Hebrews 9:27). Yet, when it may arrive remains a mystery; the Lord teaches us in the Gospel, “You do not know the day or the hour in which the Son of Man will come” (Matt. 25:13). While death is an undeniable certainty for every individual, its timing remains uncertain; it does not announce its arrival, nor does it adhere to the calendar, bypassing neither youth nor old age. Death does not inquire about one's readiness and will not delay an unprepared soul for even a single moment upon its arrival.
It is understood that as humans we are susceptible to death, since we are made from opposing elements—earth, water, air, and fire—whose perpetual struggle renders mortality unavoidable. Yet, the exact moment of death varies, often coming unexpectedly when one element surpasses the others. Fire may consume the moisture within, leading to fever; moisture may extinguish the heat, resulting in overwhelming sicknesses such as dropsy or paralysis, which can swiftly culminate in death. While it’s evident that all born into this world are destined to traverse the path to death, the time at which this occurs is unknown, as no one can predict when or where it will find them. We understand that the soul is destined to separate from the body, but the manner of this separation—whether naturally or through some force—remains elusive. Everyone acknowledges their inevitable demise yet remains ignorant of how it will transpire.
Death is recognized as a consequence of divine justice, imposed on humanity as retribution for ancestral sin; however, the specific timing of death eludes us, hidden within the mysteries of God’s will. We are assured of our eventual death but not of its timing—now or later, by day or night. Numerous individuals have gone to sleep at night only to awaken no more, their rest forever being a deathly slumber. Others have arisen only to pass away before the dusk. Belshazzar, the Chaldean king, reveled through the night until an invisible hand inscribed a decree of death on the wall, and he was slain that very night (Dan. 5:1-5, 30). Did he possess any foreknowledge of the time of his end? Holofernes, the Assyrian leader, fell into lethargy filled with wine, only to be murdered during his slumber (Judith 13:2, 6-8). He boasted of capturing the Hebrew city at dawn but succumbed to death, ensnared as easily as a bird. The affluent man, brimming with harvest, pondered how to store his abundance and sought to build larger granaries for years of feasting and joy. God responded, “Madman, this night your soul shall be taken from you!” (Luke 12:20). Thus, one who anticipated many years before him perished without even witnessing a single night. The arrival and timing of death remain profoundly uncertain. The Lord counsels us to be vigilant and prayerful, for we do not know when the hour will come (Mark 13:33).
The impact of death is profound: it strips humanity of all worldly possessions—wealth, honor, glory, beauty, and every pleasure. When one dies, all accompanies them to the grave, as both kin and affections are severed, obliterating all human bonds and hopes. It opens the gateway to eternity, initiating a final chapter, either joyous or sorrowful. For the righteous, it leads to the bliss of eternal life in Heaven, while for the unrepentant, it ushers in an eternity of torment in Hell. The way one lives here dictates the reward received thereafter. It is vital for us, as mortal beings, to maintain a constant awareness of death, that we might learn to act righteously and remain prepared for our inevitable end. St. John of the Ladder emphasizes that for those longing for salvation, the remembrance of death is as crucial as sustenance is for the living: just as life cannot be sustained without bread, so too is it impossible to transform one’s life without the memory of death (Word 6, Ch. 4). As the body weakens without bread, the spirit becomes feeble devoid of death's remembrance. “Bread strengthens the heart of man” (Psalm 103:15), and the memory of death fortifies a virtuous life. The one who possesses bread does not starve, and the one who continually remembers death does not allow their soul to be consumed by sinful decay.
The same St. John narrates the story of Isikhia Chorevit, who once lived carelessly and fell ill, ultimately dying. After lying dead for an hour, he revived when his soul returned by divine command. He then secluded himself for twelve years, speaking to no one, relying solely on modest sustenance while shedding tears in solitude. As his death approached, his brethren entered and implored him to share wisdom, receiving only this: “Pardon me, no one can ever sin who has truly learned the memory of mortality.” He passed away in the Lord shortly thereafter. Those who knew of his former negligence were astonished by how fear of death had transformed his life. May we also strive to remember our mortality and amend our ways while we still have time, lest death catch us unprepared. Let us take to heart the sage advice of the Chronicler, who counsels, “Let the remembrance of death always accompany you, both in sleep and in waking.”