The Late Show is hardly a bellwether for the state of America’s philosophizing or the condition of its soul. Except when it is. Several cultural commentators have observed that in the last two elections, some of the most blunt, honest discussions of our national situation came, sadly enough, through comedians. We expect them to break the rules of political correctness; as a result they sometimes speak more honestly to us than we dare speak to ourselves.
Recently, Stephen Colbert ended an interview with an actor by unexpectedly asking, “What do you think happens when we die, Keanu Reeves?” The audience laughed at the question—clearly deeper than typical, comedic fare. The Huffington Post reports that Keanu “paused, exhaled, then delivered an answer for the ages now going viral on Twitter:”
“I know that the ones who love us will miss us.”
Not much browsing confirms that the internet found this a profound, eloquent insight. Not much thinking recognizes it as folly. But this is the bankruptcy of secular materialism where this truly is all we can say. Life happened; entropy overwhelmed it. Nothing to build on there.
I have often wondered how much people think deeply about the core questions of our existence. Culturally, we aren’t supposed to talk about death—hence the audience’s response when a comedian broke the rules. Do we avoid public discussion only because it isn’t considered polite? Or does the social reality reflect a parallel private one? Do we not discuss death with our friends because we would rather not think about it ourselves? If so, it’s not politeness; it’s self-deception. The only future detail of my earthly biography that I can confirm with absolute certainty is that I will die. Every passing day draws me closer to it. How do you just exist and live without seeking answers to these questions?
So do people ask those questions? In their most candid moments, when sitting at funerals, when noticing that they are aging, when faced by their own mortality, do they think about it? I’m not sure. I have enjoyed very stimulating, thoughtful conversations about life and philosophy with people who deny the existence of God. Classic literature and philosophy are filled with brilliant, non-Christian writers who have explored the hardest questions more richly than I ever can. These experiences leave me hoping that maybe people are being honest with themselves and their mortality.
And then you see a brief flash of insight into how shallow their thought really is. The answer they most applaud is the one that avoids the question entirely; the answer that commits to nothing and means nothing. And you can’t help thinking that most people do live lives of quiet desperation.
Theology leads me in the same two, opposite directions. One the one hand, humans are made in the image of God. Plants and animals don’t ask big questions about the meaning of life or what happens next; only humans do. Valuing human intelligence and dignity, we ought to assume that most people have thought at some point about basic questions of meaning, truth, right and wrong, and how to know the difference. Their thoughts go deeper than what we see or what they say.
But there’s more to the story. We are made in God’s image but also marred by the fall. And so we ought also to assume that most people suppress the truth in unrighteousness, unwilling to accept the realities that are all around them. Start thinking about life after death and it gets complicated fast. Does everybody go to paradise—even the Hitlers, Stalins and Saddam Husseins? If not, there have to be distinctions. That implies judgment, a judge, and standards. The ethical requirements start to move backwards into life right now. If there really is something beyond, I have to live differently. I have to settle larger questions about who God is and my relationship with Him.
From there, it’s no surprise that most people prefer to put the question aside. Our cultural consensus becomes a fuzzy notion about golden gates, and St. Peter and some harps. And so the best we can know is that “the ones who love us will miss us.” The most vacuous platitudes win plaudits of eloquence, not because they answer the question but because they avoid it.
Yet the image of God is still there. Remember that the next human being you speak with will live somewhere forever. Behind those eyes is an eternal soul. They might choose to ignore the biggest questions of their existence, but they do know better. Talk to them. Recognize their dignity as human beings coupled with the complete folly of unbelief. Be willing to talk about eternity, meaning, the point of life, and how to find truth. Ask questions. Listen. Then present the gospel.
And remember also that unbelief and folly are not the exclusive purview of non-Christians. All of us are deeply prone to define life by the things around us; to be caught up in mere doing—day after day, year after year, decade after decade. All of us prefer not to think about death. And all of us need to. Life is short. And real. None of this is a game.
Today, live your life well.
