A Leaven In The World . . . Lent, Ben Sasse, And Memento Mori
Lent is upon us once again and with it another opportunity for grace and conversion.
This most penitential season begins on Ash Wednesday with the stern admonition, “Meménto, homo, quia pulvis es, et in púlverem revertéris.”
“Remember, man, you are dust.” “Remember, man, you will die.”
For many public figures on the internet it has become fashionable to sport the ashen cross on the forehead each year as Lent begins. It adds a note of seriousness or gravitas, I suppose, to their blog videos and internet feeds.
Ben Sasse is dying. As are we all. Only he has less time on earth. A lot less.
He’s been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and his body is riddled with tumors. He takes morphine to dull the pain as the cancer attacks his spine.
For those like Ben it’s more than a cross on the forehead. For those like him it’s a growing and mortal pain that reminds him each moment of his life remaining — that he is actively dying.
His memento mori is now carried in the pain that is inextricably bound up with the mortality which we all share with him. He is a living reminder of the grace of which we all stand in need in order to die a holy death, despite whatever crosses of suffering, whether in the mind or the body or both, which we endure in our final agony.
God’s will be done.
If you haven’t seen it yet, I recommend his startling, smart, humble, irreverent, and, most important, faithful interview with Peter Robinson. It’s available on Twitter / X @HooverInst where the encounter is briefly described:
“In December 2025, former U.S. Sen. @BenSasse announced that he had been diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. That’s the primary topic for this @UncKnowledge conversation about mortality, faith, and what truly matters when time is short.
“Talking to host @P_M_Robinson, Sasse reflects on “redeeming the time” — holding ambition lightly, loving family more deliberately, and resisting the urge to make politics or professional success the center of life.
“The discussion also covers Sasse’s thoughts on the failures of Congress; the dangers of a fragmented, attention-starved republic; the crisis of higher education; and the moral challenges of technological abundance.
“He speaks candidly and movingly about regret, forgiveness, prayer, and suffering — arguing that while death is a real enemy, it does not get the final word. Watch the full conversation on X.”
Sasse speaks most of all as a believing and practicing Catholic. About the primary importance of God and worship, family and home. And the regrets that come with spending less time on these and more on work, politics, career, and other worldly pursuits.
Ben Sasse is honest about his death, but also heroically humorous and humble about his life with both its positives and its regrets. In other words, he is a lot like the rest of us. And this is what makes the interview so compelling as well as timely.
From his Twitter / X account @BenSasse:
“#NotDeadYet
“We aren’t going to do many medical updates on here, but a bunch of friends have requested a status report and kindly asked what to pray for, so a few quick observations. . . .
“• Some folks are very helpful — such as our tireless team at MD Anderson. We were accepted into a clinical trial at Houston’s amazing cancer hospital around New Year’s. We’ve just completed our first week of experimental chemo.
“• Some folks are less helpful — such as whatever jackwagons signed me up for tickets to loads of upcoming Nickelback events. (Although I do tip my cap to the cheery optimism of the dudes who bought me concert tickets for April ‘2027.’)
“• Some folks have a heavenly bedside manner — such as the MD Anderson research nurses who’ve helped dial in my anti-nausea mix of drugs, radically reducing my daily puke count (‘DPC’) over the past 72 hours.
“• Some folks have a less heavenly bedside manner — such as my tender (?) bride who in the wee hours last night exclaimed: ‘Can you imagine if we make big progress on both the nausea and the spinal tumor pain?! All we’d have left is your increasingly ugly mug.’ (She’s a keeper. . . .)
“More fundamentally, please hear Melissa’s and my gratitude for the outpouring of love and kindness over the three weeks since my diagnosis. We are blessed in so many ways, so I’m not surprised at how moved we’ve been by these prayers, but do know that we’ve been very moved.
“I’m #NotDeadYet (hat tip: Monty Python), so let me close with three prayer requests:
“1) That our kids will trust in the Lord‘s Fatherly kindness and sovereign timing.
“2) That the spinal tumor and the nausea can be managed enough to make me a moderately chipper patient, finding energy to soldier well with my neighbors at the blood draws and drudgery.
“3) That I will be able — to borrow the old Puritan phrase — to “redeem the time.” That is, to try to serve and love our neighbors with little bits of work — or writing and speaking projects here and there.
“Time is the great equalizer, but not all time is equal — you can play a lot of basketball in the last 60 seconds (especially if you’re as newly dominant in basketball as Nebraska).
“We’re going to give cancer a run for its money and see what can be learned in the process. As we figure out the rhythms of chemo, I’m going to endeavor to do whatever work I’ve been given to do . . . and try to love and serve (and not puke).”
In the interview with Robinson the two discuss the raising of Lazarus and the resulting grief of the Lord recounted in the shortest sentence in the Gospels: “Jesus wept.”
Our suffering is a great mystery. And God suffers through it, and with us. Thus He makes it redemptive for us.
Lent is about discomfort: with death, with fasting, with penance, with all of the things that take away comfort from our flesh. Our mortal, dying flesh. And it helps us to draw closer to, and to love more, the One who is eternal and gives our souls the grace that will eternally redeem and save us.
Lent is also about second, third, and more chances. Our loving and merciful Redeemer would give us an infinite quantity of opportunities if possible. But the mortality with which He created us forbids this. No, God can only give us a finite number of chances to repent, believe in the Gospel, and change our lives. Thus our response now, not later, is all the more urgent.
And thus the voice of God and the call of the Gospel: “Today is the day of salvation.” Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
This Lent, and every day, let us live more like Ben and the other “saints-in-formation” in our midst as we renounce sin and Satan and all his works. Less complaining. More cheerfulness. Less screen time. More prayer. Less noise. More silence. Less talking. More reading. Less distraction. More focus.
And let us hear these words of love, spoken in divine compassion, which have echoed in the Church down through the centuries for all of those before us who had likewise placed before them by God both life and death:
“Meménto, homo, quia pulvis es, et in púlverem revertéris.”
Let us choose life.
Thank you for reading.
Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.
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