Mortality A Private Matter
Joanna Hecht
Issue date: 4/5/05 Section: Opinions
Two prominent figures died last week following extended news media coverage One worked towards world peace and interfaith reconciliation as head of one of the world's largest religions; the other was in a vegetative state for fifteen years, far from famous until the United States Congress took an interest in saving her life.
About 7,000 people die each day in the U.S. alone, and relatively few of them elicit national media coverage, candlelight vigils, or Katie Couric and Matt Lauer anchoring Weekend Today. So what fascinates us about these two individuals enough that strangers are inspired to mourn their deaths?
It's a bit easier to understand with Pope John Paul II; he was a respected spiritual leader, whose contributions to things like world peace are internationally recognized. The connection that many Catholics feel with him is institutionally reinforced by the Church, and it is understandable that those in crowds outside the Vatican felt emotionally and spiritually invested in end of his life.
At the same time, while watching television news coverage of the last few days of the Pope's life, it was often difficult to tell whether or not he was already dead. I was home on Saturday. When I woke up and was watching the news, my dad, who had been in and out of the room all morning, informed me that the Pope had died. Blame it on sleepiness, but it took me 20 minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, still holding on.
When it came to Terry Schiavo, on the other hand, I couldn't help but think that we, the American people as a whole, were butting our noses in someone else's business. I don't know if Schiavo's family wanted to have to watch their daughter, wife or sister die beneath the watchful eye of cameras and flashbulbs or between press conferences, but I cannot imagine grief being simpler when an entire nation is debating law and morality in the context of someone you love. Few people who were able to make assertions about who was right or wrong knew all the facts; even fewer actually knew the people involved.
About 7,000 people die each day in the U.S. alone, and relatively few of them elicit national media coverage, candlelight vigils, or Katie Couric and Matt Lauer anchoring Weekend Today. So what fascinates us about these two individuals enough that strangers are inspired to mourn their deaths?
It's a bit easier to understand with Pope John Paul II; he was a respected spiritual leader, whose contributions to things like world peace are internationally recognized. The connection that many Catholics feel with him is institutionally reinforced by the Church, and it is understandable that those in crowds outside the Vatican felt emotionally and spiritually invested in end of his life.
At the same time, while watching television news coverage of the last few days of the Pope's life, it was often difficult to tell whether or not he was already dead. I was home on Saturday. When I woke up and was watching the news, my dad, who had been in and out of the room all morning, informed me that the Pope had died. Blame it on sleepiness, but it took me 20 minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, still holding on.
When it came to Terry Schiavo, on the other hand, I couldn't help but think that we, the American people as a whole, were butting our noses in someone else's business. I don't know if Schiavo's family wanted to have to watch their daughter, wife or sister die beneath the watchful eye of cameras and flashbulbs or between press conferences, but I cannot imagine grief being simpler when an entire nation is debating law and morality in the context of someone you love. Few people who were able to make assertions about who was right or wrong knew all the facts; even fewer actually knew the people involved.