Where faith and zombies collide

Any true Walking Dead fan can tell you the date of the upcoming season premiere. It’s October 12^th, in case you are not one such fan. That also happens to be my husband’s birthday, but I’m personally more excited about the premiere.

There’s so much to love about WD, as we refer to it in our household. The story line is captivating, the special effects are well done, no character is guaranteed another episode, and so much more. I don’t even typically like violent shows, or scary ones, yet somehow this is one of my all-time favorites. (Though I do close my eyes when they’re fighting walkers, which is, you know, somewhat frequently.) It took two and a half seasons for my husband to convince me to even watch it, and then I couldn’t stop watching. 

 

It. Is. Incredible.          

 

 

(Just as a side note: If you don’t think Daryl Dixon is the man, then we can’t be friends.)

We’ve been watching through the seasons again in preparation for the big day. (Thirty-eight days to go!) It’s been even better this second time around, especially to watch just how much the characters have grown. We’re pretty close to making it all the way through again. Rick has been reunited with his family, Sophia has been found (and lost), Shane is no longer stirring up trouble, Merle has committed one final, selfless act, and most recently, my least favorite character to ever walk on a set is no more. 

WD fans know which episode I’m referring to. And even though the governor’s death brought such vindication, the remainder of the 44 minutes left me dismayed. The prison has fallen, the group has been splintered apart, and their oldest comrade will share his wisdom no longer.

 And so, today, I am reflecting on the meaningful, albeit fictional, life of Hershel Greene. Hershel is the kind of man that everyone wants around. He was easygoing, but he knew when to put his foot down. He spoke words of wisdom, but he didn’t spout them arrogantly or harshly. He constantly had a positive attitude and a great sense of humor. 

He’s responsible for what I think is the funniest line ever spoken on the WD: “I can't profess to understand God's plan, Christ promised the resurrection of the dead. I just thought he had something a little different in mind.”

It’s hard to fit humor into a life such as the one portrayed here, but Hershel did it seamlessly. Thank God that people like that exist, making the world a better place just by lightening the mood. Reminding us that there is hope for something better beyond the moment. 

Even with so many positives about Hershel, we perhaps learn more from his brief downfall than anything else. After the infamous barn slaughter episode, Hershel falls off the wagon. His hopes that he might be able to bring his family and friends back to their former (well, alive) selves are crushed, and he turns to his old friend to drown out his problems. Twenty-two years of sobriety go down the drain, and he refuses to come back from the bar even to help his daughter recover from a medical emergency. He declares that there is no hope for any of them, and he insists that Rick feels the same way.

Down goes Hershel.

But then. Oh, then. He rises up stronger than ever.

I love the truth this story represents. Sometimes we learn that what we thought was truth was a lie. For Hershel it was that there is no return from the undead state, but hopefully our lesson will be a little different than that. But rest assured, everyone has to face this kind of reality at some point in their life. Maybe someone we trusted betrayed us, maybe the hypocrisy of someone in the church has shaken our faith, maybe life ended up in chaos even though we’ve followed “the rules.” It’s not the falling that defines us. It’s the standing back up, dusting ourselves off, maybe limping at first, but then returning to life with a renewed passion to fight.

This is what I love about Hershel. He was shaken, and he took a fall, but he got back up again and fought hard for the truth. He renewed his faith in God rather than dismissing it. It became stronger through the trials. His outlook changed, but it was for the better. His hope remained, and he was a better man for it. And everyone else around him became better as a result. 

Not only did Hershel change, but he helped Rick change as well. He lent his wisdom and humor and patience to walk Rick through overwhelmingly difficult circumstances, including the death of his wife. Though I must say, I thought Rick might not make it through his journey into crazy town. But he does, and he learns from the wisdom of his old one-legged friend.

It is Rick who gives what ends up being a beautiful tribute to what Hershel stood for just moments before his death. “Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates... you're one of us. We let go of all of it, and nobody dies. Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone's who's made it this far. We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone. We get to come back. I know...we all…can change.”

 One last smile spreads across Hershel’s face in that moment. I imagine that he is reflecting on how those words ring true, and he glows with pride to know that Rick lived out that truth. And then, the governor wipes that smile from his face. Hershel will grace the screen no more.

But the great thing about real life is that the darkness can never overcome the light. When good men die, their legacy lives on forever. The truth they proclaimed cannot be erased, even though their body fades away. 

Even though our faith is sometimes shaken, we can come back. We can enjoy life again and live it to the fullest. We can hold on to hope and live each day with a positive outlook. We can keep our integrity even when the world around us falls to chaos. So fictional zombie show or not, we can still glean some wisdom-filled life lessons here. 

I know…we all…can change.