Fate and the Death in Teheran

Most of my friends are quite a bit older than me, and I'm grateful for the deep conversations we have. Just this weekend, my 89-year-old friend came over and wanted to talk about fate.

"I don't believe in destiny or fate," he said. "The primary reason G-d created us — if there even is a G-d — was to prevent boredom. Can you imagine being the divine creator and knowing everything? That must be exhausting. I don't think He knows our future either. Maybe He could find out, but I doubt He wants to know. Why not let it be a surprise to everyone — even Him?"

"That idea makes me feel better," I said. When I first got diagnosed with cancer, I hated the thought of it being "G-d's will" or that I was sick for a reason. In fact, some of the things we tell ourselves seem so trite. I don't want to be sick "because of my sins" or think "G-d only gives us what we can handle." I've seen people get way more than they can handle, like my poor cousin who took his own life because of the cruelty of others who acted out of their own right to free will. (And then, when my son died, some people said he was born with defects to help others. That thought devastated me because he deserved to have a long, happy life too...)

"It's much easier thinking I'm sick because G-d refuses to interfere," I said. "I guess it's less personal. If that makes sense." That's the only way I can reconcile why bad things happen to anyone.

He nodded.

And as we sat there in silence, a story suddenly came to me. "Have you heard about the 'Death in Teheran'? It's a really thought-provoking story."

"No," he responded, "can't say that I have."

"Basically," I replied, "a king's servant comes up to the king, frantic because he was just visited by Death. 'Please give me your fastest horse so I can elude Death,' the servant said to the king. 'I'll ride all the way to Teheran and hide there.'" I paused at this point and took a sip of my coffee. "The king thought about the servant's kindness and hard work over the years and immediately gave him his best horse, but the moment the servant and horse galloped away, Death appeared in front of the king!"

My friend's eyes widened, surprised at the twist in the story.

"'Why did you threaten my servant?' the king asked Death. 'I didn't threaten him,' Death said, 'I simply expressed my surprise at seeing him here! It seemed odd because I have an appointment to take his life tonight — far from here — in Teheran.'"

My friend loved the story, and we talked for a while about fate possibly being inescapable.

"I will never understand myself," I said. "Some days I find peace in thinking I'll die at the exact moment I'm supposed to. Other days, I don't want G-d to have a plan because everyone's hardships are less personal."

My friend nodded. "I guess we'll know everything after we die."

"Everything?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I think so."

"But what about boredom? You said G-d doesn't even want to know everything." I swallowed, really pondering it. "That... sounds like my version of Hell." And in that moment, I couldn't help imaging a bunch of beings floating around completely bored in the afterlife, playing chess for the trillionth time and waxing poetic. Maybe just ceasing to exist after this life doesn't seem that bad? But what do I know!

"Well, maybe we won't know everything." He laughed. "There's one thing that's for sure though; I really hope you'll get better and that I'll die before you. When you were really, really sick, back in 2021, I hated not knowing which one of us would die first. I'm older. You're too young right now. And..." He paused. "What I learned in the second half of my life... the things I got to experience... I want that for you."

He's 48 years older than me. That's longer than I've even lived so far. "I want you to live forever and ever," I said.

"Awe... I don't think we should wish that on anyone." He smiled with such a wealth of knowledge that I can only pretend to understand.

"I'm already experiencing so much though," I said, "and I'm starting to have hope." I told him then how in my most-recent MRI, the cancer hasn't grown! This is huge news because it means that maybe something is actually working — and in the least — these current cancer treatments are giving me a bit more time. "My new oncologist said I probably will die from melanoma, but he believes there IS actually a chance that I might beat this!"

I remember where everyone had stood in the room when my oncologist said this. It felt like time stopped and the wind had been knocked from my chest. Had he really just said I have a chance? I might beat this? After so many doctors keep saying this is terminal...

After he said all of this, he expressed the importance of hope, and I felt like he'd thrown me a lifeline. Maybe... just maybe it's NOT time for my trip to Teheran just yet. Sometimes that's how cancer treatments feel, like I'm doing this to buy more time and hide from death. But like the story says, can we even evade death at all? Or is there a time set in stone for each of us? Like so many people say, that's why we should appreciate each day and be grateful for the journey. For example: what could the servant have done during his last day, instead of letting fear overshadow the final moments of his life as he rushed to Teheran?