The Denial of Death just leveled me, throwing everything I believed into the air. The basic thesis of The Denial of Death is that culture and our sense of significance and purpose derived from our culture is driven, deep down, by unconscious death anxiety. It's a Freudian analysis with an existential twist. Basically, everything that makes your life significant and meaningful is a neurotic defense mechanism to help console you in the face of death.
Since childhood I had been preoccupied with death as an existential predicament. Because of this, in college I was quickly drawn to the existentialists. I felt their ability to articulate the specter of meaninglessness in the face of death was spot on.
In short, most of my faith struggles were existential in nature, often with death as the root problem. And the best articulation of our existential predicament was Becker's The Denial of Death.
And yet, during years and years of searching, I could never find a Christian thinker who put death at the center of our predicament. For the theologians and the pastors our great problem is sin and the righteousness of God. But sin and the righteousness of God weren't issues for me. I've never worried about going to hell. It's just not an interesting question for me. The final destiny of my pitiful soul seemed like pretty small potatoes in the grand, cosmic scheme of things. Hell has always bored me. For me the issues were death, anxiety, and meaning. For me, sin was never the issue. For me the issue was always, "What's the point of it all?"
For decades I was theologically stuck. I couldn't find a theologian who really, deeply resonated with me. Then I discovered William Stringfellow.
Here's the great and distinctive aspect of Stringfellow's work: Death is our problem. Not sin, death.
With William Stringfellow I finally had found a theologian who could help me pick up the pieces of my faith after its collision with The Denial of Death.
