Written in response to my father’s death… I hope it points to a way to accept death without falling back on religious belief.
So death can be sudden, but you knew that
Almost 30 years ago, while playing softball at my junior high school in Glendale, California, a friend of mine, Robbie Haddad, hesitated when it was his turn to bat. He said he felt that he might pass out. We mocked him, as boys do, and so he stepped up to the plate, swung wildly at the first pitch, and died. His heart stopped, and was beyond resuscitation.
So death can be sudden, but you knew that. It’s knowledge we all gain somehow, from stories told or by direct observation. We seldom acknowledge it, but we know that death is a silent guest everywhere, listening in on every conversation, tagging along on every walk; we can ignore death if we like, but it changes nothing. Death is patient, and doesn’t mind being ignored.
The summer after Robbie’s death, at a YMCA camp on Catalina Island, I got religion, or at least I tried very hard to get religion. I had no genuine conversion experience, but I wanted one badly and was led to believe that desire alone was sufficient. I didn’t make the connection at the time, but surely it was fear of death that drove me to it. I’m sure I worried about the state of Robbie’s soul, though it was hardly my concern.
That particular flirtation with Christianity turned out to be just a Summer fling, and when I returned to school my mocking friends were enough for me to disavow it, thank Goddess. But years later, after subsequent brushes with mortality, including my own, I finally consummated the relationship and followed the Jesus way for almost half my life.
I think it must be more than coincidence that my self-extrication from the cult roughly paralleled my father’s death, which I was privileged to observe. I had seen sudden death, but his was slow, stretched out over several years. And as he slowly died, victim of a thousand small indignities, a part of me came slowly alive and before he passed I was able to convey to him that I had freed myself from a way of life that he hated. I didn’t make the connection at the time, but now I wonder if his extended, relatively graceful passage made it possible for me to accept the fact of death, transmuting fear into intimacy… and without the fear of death, I had no need of religion.
If not for death, and the fear of death, I can’t see that humans would bother with religion. Faced with that shut door dividing the quick and the dead, we seek answers with an understandable desperation, and will listen to anyone who claims to have some knowledge. But fear makes us foolish, for when it comes to death no one speaks with authority, least of all the living. All we have to work with are fables and silly old books, and the only decision to make is between false comfort and cold uncertainty. You, of course, must make your own decision, but I choose uncertainty… it makes me feel more alive.
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Excellent excellent excellent!
Thanks Kevin!
Nice piece, Angus. I do have to disagree with you, however, about death and fear of death being the reason for religion (perhaps as clergy, that’s not surprising). There is a large segment of Judaism both now and throughout history that do not believe in an afterlife. The same is true of many Buddhists. While I would wholeheartedly agree that death and the fear of death is at the heart of immature religious belief, the best that religious belief can offer is finding a spiritual meaning within this life.
Hey David, nice to hear from you. I think your point about immature religious belief is probably sound for individuals, and maybe religions could be ranked on the same scale as well. I’m happy to say, for example, that Buddhism as a whole seems more mature than Christianity or Islam, as a whole. Always allowing for exceptional individuals in all paths.
cheers,
Angus
Along the same vein as David’s comment: I also disagree with a pretty major part of this post (but isn’t this why you posted it, to get people talking? Hooray for conversation!): I hold, as Angus knows, quite conservative Christian religious beliefs, but I must say that I do not fear death, and I attribute that to my stalwart belief that I am going to heaven. I feel that there should be no fear, if you actually believe in your own redemption through God.
That’s not to say I don’t get tremendously sad when I think about my wife and kids being on earth without me, but I believe sadness is quite different than fear. And the sadness passes when I think about life beyond the confines of time.
I also think about the ambiguity of the meaning of words, the probably substantial, but possibly undetectable differences of perception of the meaning of words, and the varying relative interpretation of different people’s perceptions…and I realize that as far as I can tell, belief isn’t a clear-cut, black and white subject. And to me, that’s why there is so much variance in interpretation of formal religion; possibly why there’s so many major religions. From my limited knowledge of the major religions (or at least the ones that appear to be there for the “right reason”), it seems that there is at least one common theme: be good for the good of others. And obviously there are drastically different methods of conveying examples, basic tenets, and the history of this underlying principal, based on different physical histories, geography, and probably pure “chance”. Cue the wildly different religions, all trying to achieve roughly the same goal: keep people from tearing each other apart.
Anyway, Angus, even though we both know that we hold very polar opposite views on many specifics of spirituality, thank you for continuing to share your thoughts on so many important matters. Your entries and books are immensely thought-provoking, and I will continue to read them as I put my own beliefs under the magnifying glass. Because an unexamined belief system really is B.S.
I must say that I do not fear death, and I attribute that to my stalwart belief that I am going to heaven
Hey Clayton. I do know we differ, and that always puzzled me, both when I was more religious than you and after I abruptly became less religious. We seem alike in some ways. Anyway, I quoted the above because it seems like that’s kind of the point: an evidence-free religious proposition becomes a way to avoid fear. And that seems logically dodgy.
cheers,
Angus
Stalwart Belief… Is that like better than a regular belief and therefore more reliable? Again, I’ll make my point that beliefs are someone elses concepts and ideas that you have bought into without any personal proof or knowledge.
Suppose I have a stalwart belief there is no heaven to go to…. who is right, you or me?
A lot of this death and fear of death rhetoric is something foisted on us by Church leaders to keep us under their control. We lament the loss of loved ones and console ourselves that they went to a better place and maybe if we’re lucky (and good Christians) we’ll meet them again one day, yah-di-yah.
Is heaven even a place where we can go? In the Christian Bible, Jesus is quoted “The Kingdom of Heaven is Within”. Explain to me how to get there please. Church leaders exort us to leave good lives and one day when we die we’ll go somewhere (usually has Pearly gates) and we’ll get judged (by whose standards?) and maybe we’ll get let in (hoo boy, I hope it has a nice golf course)
Nay but as one layeth his old clothes away.
Taking new ones and sayeth, these will I wear today.
So lightly does the Spirit put away its garb of flesh
and passeth to inherit a residence afresh.
Ch. VI – Song Celestial (Bhagavad Gita) Sir Edwin Arnold translation
… hey, what good is to go to heaven, if I have to come back again?
Follow Me, and allow the dead to bury their own dead.
Jesus (Matt8:22)
… sounds pretty harsh on the face of it.
Oh well, I’ve got these stalwart beliefs to keep me safe.
“when it comes to death no one speaks with authority, least of all the living. All we have to work with are fables and silly old books, and the only decision to make is between false comfort and cold uncertainty. You, of course, must make your own decision, but I choose uncertainty… it makes me feel more alive.”
If you choose UNCERTAINTY, how can you be so certain that “no one” speaks with authority on the subject of death, such as Jesus Christ Who was resurrected from the dead. If you choose UNCERTAINTY, how do you for sure that “all we have to work with are ‘fables’ and ’silly old books.’” If you choose UNCERTAINTY, how can you be so sure that the resurrection of Jesus was fable?
Uncertainty? I think not. You seem to be sure about a lot of things.
Justin
***yawn***
Hmmmm…logically dodgy. I certainly admit that I cannot completely (or even generally) explain my beliefs logically. Then they wouldn’t be beliefs, they would just be my own hypotheses. There seems to always be a loophole in any logic; always an irreducible building block that someone must lean on/build on, otherwise they don’t. They aren’t. And then we’re left with nihilistic skepticism, which, considering the depth of impact our emotions have on us, seems absolutely absurd, and the least logical idea a human could stand behind.
One example of a perfectly mathematically logical proposition rendered silly when the scenario is forced upon the physical world is the proposition by some old philosopher (don’t remember who) who said that in order to get from A to B, you first need to get halfway from A to B; in order to do so, you first need to get a 1/4 of the way there; and in order to get a 1/4 of the way there, you first need to get an 1/8 of the way there, and on down to the infinitely small fractions you go… This is, of course, silly, but it’s logical in a mathematical sense, until it’s forced upon the physical world, in which case you just GO from A to B. It just happens. You just assume that time passes and that you start moving and you go. Logically tormenting yourself on how to get there, assuming you have to get 1/2 way there first, is just torture.
Not a perfect example, but I think it conveys my point: everyone makes certain assumptions that they believe in. Whether someone admits it or not, everyone believes something. I fully agree that blindly and unquestioningly assuming that a given belief system is inerrant is equally as ridiculous as thinking you can figure everything out on your own.
As far as our understanding of the nature of the duality of the spiritual/physical world (I firmly [I'll stop using words like "stalwart"] believe human existence is dualistic) I really appreciate the Plato Allegory of the Cave, where he compares normal assumption to being chained to a wall, watching shadows, thinking that there is nothing more to what they see than the shadows themselves. But when freed of the chains (examining your belief system?) you see that the shadows are just a reflection/propagation of what is truly moving/existing/happening – the light source, the puppets/figures, etc. I like this scenario very much when comparing it to our own bodies (the shadows), the physical world (the wall), and our souls/spirits (the figures actually making the shadows). Free your mind from the chains, yahda-yahda-yahda, I know. I just like the analogy of how little we know about what makes things tick. There’s a lot more to the analogy, but thinking about this specific application seems enlightening when pondering what is smaller than sub-atomic particles.
sorry about the italics….I don’t do HTML very well, obviously.
You’re referring to Zeno’s Paradox, one of my favorites.
And I have to say, “I certainly admit that I cannot completely (or even generally) explain my beliefs logically. Then they wouldn’t be beliefs, they would just be my own hypotheses.” is rather an extraordinary statement—I think it’s gobbledygook, personally.
cheers,
Angus
It is easy to dismiss this story as a vague coincidence or perhaps as a case of self-fulfilling prophecy and if it makes you feel better I encourage you to do just that. But it was my experience and I couldn’t deny it so easily, though I wasted much time trying to believe in some comfortable explanation for God’s Word’s inexplicable behavior. But uncanny examples kept accruing – for instance, one night I dreamt of a passage from God’s word and the next day I had encountered a scenario that applied perfectly to the passage I had just dreamed! In fact, like dreams, whenever I actually pay attention to God’s Word for more than a few days startling synchronicities pile up like firewood.
It’s logically unexplainable, but it doesn’t sound like gobbledygook to me.
Fair enough… and well played. Still, I never say (in my passage) that I believe in tarot, just that I can’t explain it’s peculiar power. Nor do I routinely look to tarot as a guide to daily life, it is merely one tool I use to negotiate reality.
Maybe you’re putting too many eggs in one basket?
cheers,
Angus
The thing is, I genuinely believe that your experience with Tarot isn’t coincidence, as I believe my experience with a Ouija board wasn’t a coincidence, either.
Regardless of whether I believe in good vs. evil spirits (I personally find more evidence for this spiritual duality than against it), I guess my point is that I don’t/can’t believe in straight-up logic. I can’t, because I know every logical argument can be logically argued against, as long as you look hard enough for what you’re looking for. It’s like republicans or democrats reading books/articles published by their own party: it will just be constantly reinforcing the message they’re trying to find. That’s where my heart/conscience/gut/faith comes in.
I’m not saying that my rationale/argument/reasoning is fool-proof, because no human reasoning is. My belief comes not from my mind, but my heart. I know, I know that sounds like garbage, but I really have no other words for it.
Anyway, I’m obviously still gonna keep reading your stuff, because it does spark tremendously helpful self-analysis in me. Your stuff is engaging and poetically to the point.
Yeah, I think death anxiety was the reason humans invented ceremonial burial, which led to religion. Even as early as 50,000 years ago, perfectly good possessions were laid next to corpses and buried. I guess the survivors hoped the corpse would somehow get a chance to use them later, because they couldn’t bear the thought that life was indeed finite and fragile.
I think religions have had at least two other origins though:
1) It gave people a way of believing they had some defense against nature’s cruelty. If people convinced themselves that it was unseen, fussy gods who were responsible for the failed crop and the flooding, gods who could be appeased with prayers and sacrifices, then people could feel like they weren’t quite at the mercy of dumb luck.
2) Later on, some really smart people learned smarter ways to live (namely the wisdom of nonattachment and nonjudgment) and they taught others. The big religions (Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and friends) all started as just a bunch of smart things to do, but eventually got institutionalized into judgmental and intolerant things to do. Human nature strikes again.