Two simple sentences that radically changed my life.
The “other world” we call the hereafter is not a life that begins after death, but the deeply lived responsibility and beautification of this life, here and now. It is this world.
In my sixty-plus years of life, I have encountered many people who “work for this world as if they will never die.” But I’ve never really met anyone who works for the hereafter “as if they will die tomorrow.” And I don’t count myself among those who do either.
But why is “the world” held on one side and “the hereafter” on the other? Why is one seen as the rival of the other? How can we reconcile living as if we will never die with living as if we will die tomorrow?
To me, this dichotomy stems from an ascetic religiosity that clings to rituals, prioritizes appearances, and gets caught up in the shell rather than the essence of truth. It subtly whispers the false choice: “This life or the hereafter.” But doesn’t working diligently for this world “as if one will never die” have any worth in the hereafter? Can’t a seed of eternal life bud within today itself? Can a person’s contribution to this world not also count as a contribution to the hereafter?
Or are we supposed to ignore “the here and now” entirely, focusing all our care and attention on a vague “after”? If that’s the case, then this ascetic religious group seems to claim an exemption from the aesthetic and ethical responsibilities of faith. They become indifferent to the moral teachings of religion and its ecological sensitivity. In belittling the world, they neglect the ihsan — the beauty and excellence — they are meant to cultivate. The more they turn the hereafter into an endless party of sexual pleasures, the more they see themselves as saved and all others as destined for hell.
But the Prophetic perspective presents this world as the field of the hereafter. The harvest depends on the sowing. The one responsible for the harvest is even more responsible for the sowing. If what we reap in the hereafter is what we sow in this world, then shouldn’t those who care deeply for the hereafter be even more deeply responsible for this world?
To care for the world is, in truth, to care for the beauty of one’s hereafter. Every act of attentive, mindful living in this life becomes a seed that will sprout in the next — a reflection we must one day confront. So then, the “other world” we call the hereafter is not a life that begins after death, but the deeply lived responsibility and beautification of this life, here and now. It is this world.
Thankfully, not long ago, I learned that these two phrases can be read together — in harmony. A friend of mine told me what he had learned from a wise elder during his time as governor of East Anatolian city years ago. He said:“I once advised, ‘Live for this world as if you’ll never die,’ and the wise man pulled me aside. ‘That’s not quite right, sir,’ he said. ‘You misunderstand it.’
Then he explained:
‘The one who lives for the world as if he will never die has no urgency. He doesn’t say, “I must have this. I must get that car, that phone, that piece of land.” He doesn’t chase anything because he knows he has time — endless time. He isn’t rushed. He isn’t greedy. He has nothing to lose. He watches the hurried panic of others from a peaceful distance. He doesn’t get swept up in the conveyor belt they’re trapped on. He waits, calmly, with a soft smile on his face.
On the other hand, the one who lives as if he will die tomorrow pays careful attention to everything, as if seeing it for the first and last time. He lives with care, never hurting anyone, knowing it might be the final conversation. He gives each person the attention and respect they deserve. He doesn’t say, “I’ll apologize tomorrow.” He doesn’t skip over today in pursuit of a better tomorrow. He lives with the intention to be, here and now, as he wishes to be in eternity.’”
Ultimately, these two sentences correct our tendency to escape the now, to belittle today. They call us to a depth of living where we dwell eternally within the present moment.