The Lament of the Unbaptized at Death

That is why the word called them foolish: they spent the time for using their oil on going around and trading, and without realizing it they shut themselves out of the brightness of the bridal chamber. Take care that you too, postponing year after year, month after month, day after day, and not taking the oil, the food of light, never fall into a day you do not expect, when the means of living finally fail you. Then there is helplessness on every side and grief no one can comfort: the doctors have given up, your family has given up. When you are gripped by rapid, dry gasping, while a fierce fever burns and smolders within you, you will groan from the depths of your heart and find no one to share your grief. You will utter something faint and feeble, and there will be no one to hear. Everything you say is dismissed as delirium. Who will give you baptism then? Who will remind you when you are stupefied by suffering? Your relatives are in despair; those outside the suffering think nothing of it; your friend hesitates to remind you, as it would cause distress. Perhaps the doctor deceives you too, and you do not despair of yourself because by nature you cling to life. Night, and a desert of helpers. The one who baptizes is not there. Death stands by; those who carry you off press on. Who is there to rescue you? God, whom you despised? But will he listen then? You are the one who is not listening to him now. Will he grant an extension? You made such good use of the time already given. Let no one deceive you with empty words. Sudden destruction will come upon you, and ruin will arrive like a storm. A grim angel will come, dragging you away by force and pulling your soul, bound fast by its sins, turning back again and again toward the things of this world, mourning without a voice, since the organ of lament now silenced. Oh, how you will tear at yourself! How you will groan, repenting uselessly over your deliberations, when you see the brightness of the righteous in the radiant distribution of gifts, and the gloom of sinners in the deepest darkness. What will you say then in the anguish of your heart? 'Woe is me, that I did not throw off this heavy burden of sin when laying it down was so easy, but instead dragged this heap of evils along with me. Woe is me, that I did not wash away the stains, but remained marked by my sins. Now I would have been with the angels; now I would have been delighting in the good things of heaven. Oh, wicked plans! For a temporary enjoyment of sin I am tortured forever; for the pleasure of the flesh I am handed over to the fire. God's judgment is just. I was called, and I did not obey. I was taught, and I paid no attention. They bore witness to me, and I laughed.' These things and others like them you will say, weeping over yourself, if you are snatched away before baptism. Man, either fear hell or lay claim to the kingdom. Do not dishonor the call. Do not say, 'Excuse me for this reason or that.' No excuse is sufficient for refusal. I am moved to tears when I consider that you prefer the works of shame to the great glory of God, and that because of the sweetness of self-indulgence you cling to sin so tightly that you cannot be pulled away, shutting yourself out from the good things promised, so that you never see the good things of the heavenly Jerusalem. There are myriads of angels, assemblies of the firstborn, thrones of apostles, seats of honor for prophets, scepters of patriarchs, crowns of martyrs, praises of the righteous. Long to be numbered among them, having washed yourself and been sanctified according to the gift of Christ. For to him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.