Do not go gentle into that good night

 by Kevin

Another ALS group cross post ...

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

These last two lines from Dylan Thomas's very famous poem have  been rattling around inside my head a lot recently. Being neither literary scholar nor poetry aficionado myself, I had to actually look up where they came from. I was under the mistaken impression they were Shakespeare. "Surely from Hamlet," I said to myself as if I could name more than a handful of his plays. Regardless, the words have been haunting me. As I sat and reflected on them, with an eagerness to know why they were put into my head, I was struck by three images or thoughts. In hindsight, after having to research the poem by Thomas a little, the first one seemed obvious to me. The other two however ... less so ... and are in fact the impetus for this post.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Pulitzer-winning Irish poet, Paul Muldoon, wrote, "It’s no accident, surely, that Dylan Thomas’s “Do not go gentle into that good night” is a poem which is read at two out of every three funerals." Now, I’ve been to more than three funerals, and while I certainly haven’t been keeping track, I am sure I’ve heard it and been impacted, even if not retaining the author’s name. The first parallel that struck me was that of my own march toward death. Now with that quick-time cadence that comes with having ALS. "Do not go gentle into that good night." What can I ... should I ... accomplish before it’s too late? "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." With a hopeless disease, what can you do? Wouldn’t it be easier to acquiesce and fade into numbness ... drifting off slowly ... quietly? Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. The couplet drums on in my thoughts, with a rhythm that starts to become a palpable and eerie driver of my heart rate and respiration. Clearly ... I am not to sit idly by and let ALS just happen to me. But I had already determined not to do so. I had re-engaged with others ... pALS and cALS ... sharing knowledge, compassion and companionship. So why, then, the relentless reminder? That's when thought number two struck me.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

It’s ALS awareness month. Let your voice be heard! Pun intended! I can’t get my vocal chords to have much of an impact on what little air I can muster from my lungs, but it turns out ... there’s an app for that! I can still have an impactful message that can be promulgated and help make a difference. Maybe not in time for me, but it’s not about me. Do not go gentle into that good night. It’s about all of us. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. It’s about raising awareness for an under appreciated and less understood terminal disease that, for rare, seems to crop up in as many corners as you care to look! Do not go gentle into that good night. But it’s almost a little too easy for those of us with a strong faith to allow ourselves to feel like we’re being held in God's hands ... peacefully ... enjoying His consolations, while the storm rages around us. We’re safe. We’re saved. Just tell others to jump in too, "The water's nice and warm." Rage, rage against the dying of the light. That’s when I had my third and most surprising revelation.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Jesus did not go gentle into that good night! He raged against the dying of the light! His entire life was a battle against the brokenness of this world. As The Word Of God He came as the example for all of us to follow. And whether you believe or not, I challenge anyone to read the story of Jesus’s passion in scripture and justify His selfless act as as anything like going gentle into that good night. Believer or not, the story portrays a man who, by sheer force of will, endures a most agonizing ... and most excruciating form of torture and death. And He does so knowing that at any moment, He could stop it. But He doesn’t. Every second of His torture ... His carrying the cross is done willingly ... by choice. Do not go gentle into that good night. He did not deserve His death, but chose it because of His love for us. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. As He expired on the cross and arose three days later, He conquered death. He is the way, the truth, and the life. He is truly the light of the world. When His apostles awakened him on the boat amidst the storm, He didn’t comfort them and tell them it would be OK! He rebuked the winds and calmed the sea! He DID something!

I had to look up the remainder of the poem before my obsession consumed me. But there’s no doubt in my mind, that Jesus put those words into my head to wrestle with, much like He'll usually do with a scripture verse. It got me to thinking that May is also Mary's month as the mother of God. I like to believe that when I ask others to pray for me, that they actually do, as opposed to the phrase being used as merely a polite salutation or conversation closer. I do pray for others, and I believe that doesn’t end when we make it to heaven. So I also like to pray to Jesus through Mary, asking for her intercession. Not because it’s necessary, but because as Jesus’s mother, she clearly holds an extraordinary place of distinction, and I value her help in prayer! I also feel very powerfully, her agonizing witness of her son’s death and believe she too did not go gentle into that good night. 

So I am not just spitting spiritual platitudes when I extend my faith towards others in need. Just as I believe all those that share my sentiments and offer prayers aren’t likewise. We are raging, raging against the dying of the light. So may we all continue our support of each other. Use whatever voices we have to get the awareness of ALS elevated, our needs heard, and our community stronger. We will not go gentle into that good night.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

--Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953