In memoriam, Chadwick Boseman

Good morning, friends.

I wake up to news that Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman has died at the age of 43.

Unbeknownst to his fans, he had been battling colon cancer since 2016. While shouldering a full workload, he was undergoing treatment and surgery for the cancer. 

What can one say when someone in the full force of life gets taken from us? Especially when those who more deserve a visit from the Grim Reaper seem to continue to prosper and flourish? I've written about the problem of justifying a good and benevolent God in the face of the world's manifest tragedies and unfairness. Chadwick's death is another such instance.

I've stopped trying to reason this out, because it's beyond reason. The ways of the Universe are not our ways. I could say that the Universe has neither rhyme nor reason, and is a cold, unforgiving place. Which is why we, as human beings, need to turn this house in which we live our lives into a home. A home which is a refuge, which is welcoming, which is a place of solace.

We can take comfort in the impact Chadwick had on us. His family can take comfort in the fact that their beloved one affected people's lives for the better. With his roles in films, he entered the fraught conversations we've been having about race and justice. He was not a bystander, but a participant, and that's all we can ask of ourselves and those around us.

Rest in power, too soon taken.