My Condolences
September 24, 2007 by Darque
Death is a curious tradition for humans. Not for the dead, of course, but for those left behind. Here in America, and in much of the Westernized world, we conduct funerals, vigils, wakes, and a handful of other ceremonies that do little to honor the dead - but are essential tools to help the grieving process of the survivors. Being such a momentous occasion, and the very moment at which all of the promises of religion are meant to be fulfilled, it is virtually always a heavily religious event.
Now, before we get to knocking on religion for all its many flaws, I’ll be the first to point this out: religious ceremonies do a great deal to help the mourning relatives and friends of the recently deceased. There are certainly false promises and empty words, but those words are carefully chosen to start the necessary and very secular process of moving on with life.
“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother; and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen.”
These are the words that will accompany nearly all of us - atheist or not, and whether we like it or not - into the ground. They’re not really in the bible, though. The passage is from The Book of Common Prayer, and based on god’s curse on man in Genesis 3:19: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”
Let’s take all the religious questions, all the objections to this very objectionable material and put them aside for a moment. If you’re burying your wife of 45 years, or your father, or your only daughter, it doesn’t help much to be reminded that dead is dead, and the only thing left of your loved one can’t even be called worm food because of all the toxic preservatives that have been used to prepare the corpse for this morbid ceremony. No, instead, these words - false and empty though they may be - offer comfort and surcease to those who struggle to say goodbye one last time.
Again, funerals aren’t for the dead; they’re for the living. A corpse could care less. But living, breathing people, nearly always devastated by the loss of a loved one, need words of comfort more than they need reminders of the finality and coldness of death. And flawed as the beliefs may be that profess that we were created from dust and to dust we shall return, there is truth in that statement. Every molecule of every person on this planet - and the planet itself, too - was once a part of some star, some star-forming cloud of gases that somehow became sentient. It’s not quite what they meant by “dust to dust,” but one day the matter in our bodies will once again become stardust.
A funeral is one of the times that the power and benefit of religion - fraudulent though it may be - shine. (Paradoxically, the other is a wedding.) It’s one of the few times that we aren’t hammered by the need to convert, and what’s left are words of prose and poetry that are meant to do no more than serve as balm to a broken heart.
What do we atheists have to offer?
At a recent family funeral, while all of my faithful relatives held hands and wept together, they said things like, “She should be meeting up with her husband by about now.” “She’s in a better place now, and free from all the pain.” Empty platitudes and meaningless hogwash, all of it - but that instant atheist reaction, of revulsion at an oft-repeated and obvious lie, locked me out of the grieving. It left me utterly alone in a sea of worshipers, in dire need of the kind of support and comfort in which they basked. I wanted so badly to be able to be a part of this healing, to believe these insidious but sweet-smelling lies.
Knowing that the people at the mirage were drinking sand instead of water didn’t make me any less thirsty.
And what did this self-professed atheist apologist do to spread the cause? I wept privately behind dark glasses, both at the loss of someone I loved, and at the fact that my distaste for Christian rituals would forever bar me from the communal healing that these people could unreservedly throw themselves into. The only thing I could say was a weak, tired, “My condolences.” I might as well have been the uninterested next-door neighbor. I watched as people who had barely known each other for decades leaned on each other for very real support, unable to ask for or give any of my own. Even knowing that they meant nothing, dammit, I wanted to hear some sweet little nothings that could put even my unbelieving heart at ease, but I was foreign and alien to the proceedings.
What words of comfort are there for a grieving atheist? Perhaps the end of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass: “I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love./ If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles./ You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,/ But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,/ And filter and fibre your blood.” Or maybe Poe’s (the singer, not the writer) tearful Fly Away: “It makes sense that it should feel just this way/ that you slowly fade and yet still remain./ As if to say: Everything matters in such an invisible way,/ as if to say: It’s O.K./ Fly…away.” Then again, even those are hints at some life beyond death. Perhaps, then, the old unfunny joke about the tombstone of an atheist: “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”
I once argued, against both believers and atheists, that we ought to start calling atheism a religion. Perhaps the best argument against me was missed: at fulfilling the few needed duties of religion, we are woefully inadequate.
We need to be more than just the opposition to religion. We also need to prove that, even without all the hokey, cult-like rituals, we are capable of celebrating newlyweds, of welcoming babies into the world, and of showing compassion instead of confrontation to people who just need to cry and say goodbye. And since we are all so famously incapable of following a single rulebook, we all have to do it individually. We have to do it to prove that we all actually can live without the murder, mayhem, and misanthropy of religion. We have to do it to provide some much-needed comfort to those who need it. We have to do it because sooner or later, we’ll need some comfort in return.
After reading self indulgent diatribe like this I’m only reinforced in my belief that most atheists want everyone to be just as miserable as they seem to be.
[Reply]
An appeal for us to show more heart, to have more feeling makes you think that I want everyone to be miserable, Aaron?
Actually, no. Just you.
Seriously, you think that advising people to be more compassionate is spreading misery, while your insensitive and boorish comments are anything less than spreading misery? Just who is it your comment is aimed at - me or you? Or did you just not read it at all, and this is the standard step-into-conversation-and-piss-on-everyone motif that you seem to have perfected?
Those were rhetorical questions, by the way, Aaron. Don’t hurt yourself trying to figure out an answer.
[Reply]
Even with the compassion part ( which was a breath of fresh air ) it still starts off with stuff like “false promises and empty words” & “false and empty though they may be”. I appreciate that you wanted to “put those things aside” for this entry but the general tone is still one of superiority to poor stupid misguided little Christians like myself.
[Reply]
And I do want to apologize for my lack of tact. It was uncalled for. Sorry.
[Reply]
Well, Aaron, you’re mistaken about the tone. If I really want to feel superior to Christians, it’ll be far less subtle - I’m not one of these atheists that feels that I need to hide my disdain for Christians and their silly myth. As far as “poor stupid misguided little Christians,” hey, those are your words, but who am I to argue?
Yes, false promises and empty words. That’s what your religion is, and as far as I’m concerned, the people that subscribe to it - for whatever reason - have decided to ditch all reason in favor of a fantasy. I’m more than happy to reiterate that anytime, but this wasn’t about Christians at all, if you’ll notice - this was an essay written by an atheist, for atheists.
I don’t know where you get “self indulgent” from, when I voluntarily put the spotlight on my weaknesses, and implore other atheists to use some basic psychology and tact at those times of life when people feel they need to turn to religion the most. Yes, that advice is done in the hopes that less people will be drawn into the web of deceit that is the Christian faith, and to keep more people right here in the world of the living where we need them. Is it self-indulgent to say that atheism needs to step up and perform some of the necessary social duties as Christianity, but without all the strings attached? Is it self-indulgent to believe that atheists, for the sake of nothing more than sheer humaneness, can perform those same services without demanding ten percent of everyone’s paychecks in return? Then self-indulgent it is. But if that’s self-indulgent, I would reserve far harsher language for the gold-plated churches and silk-suited televangelists, the political treachery and the intellectual dishonesty and the willful, intentional attacks on all the many honest sciences and studies that directly contradict the baseless myths and ancient fairy tales contained in that pack of lies you call a bible.
So yes, I certainly do have the kind of disdain for religion that you accuse me of having - I wouldn’t dream of denying it. But if you think that’s trying to make other people miserable, you’re sadly and drastically mistaken - yet again. As atheists, we get to view all the splendor and wonder of this world, of the unknown cosmos, of the subatomic realm, and of the world of nature, and we get to study it and learn about it. We get to revel in the intricacies of all forms of life, free of self-important fallacies about being the god-appointed masters of it all, and beholden only to our own conscience. Ours is a world of attainable wisdom, of wonderment and empowerment and joy. Yours is one of evil, judgment, arbitrary and senseless rules handed down from mad desert prophets of the distant past, of original sin and continuing guilt, of make-believe deities telling us how worthless and insignificant we are, forcing us into obsequious servitude and, often enough, outright slavery. Yours is the religion of misery, and you think I want to make people miserable? Absolutely amazing.
[Reply]
Darque,
Spoken like someone who truly does not believe in eternal life. I would like to know where your enmity for religious faith comes from. What happened to you? Certainly it’s more than just a humanistic love of reason.
[Reply]
JustJim: It’s hard to believe in eternal life after seeing so many violent crime scenes, Jim. The death that you (probably) know is the open-casket funeral. That’s not death, it’s taxidermy. I won’t go into gory details, but I can tell you that a few hours spent with your local forensics team will probably end your belief in life after death once and for all.
I suppose it’s only natural that you’d assume that I must have some nasty story from my past about some heinous act done to me, or someone close to me, by a person of supposed religious faith. That should explain my objections, right? Problem is - it never happened. No, this isn’t personal, and I know that it’s hard to believe that when we live in a culture of ad hominem attacks, personal vendettas, and killing the messenger. It must seem inconceivable, but my battle against religion is entirely for the sake of humanity, not because of some personal experience. No, there’s no story there - I’m just a close and neutral observer of history, law, and human nature - and that has given me all the reason I need to declare religion, both organized and personal, to be nothing less than a cancer to all humanity.
Even reason isn’t everything - I would think that this post, above all, shows that I realize there’s more than reason out there. People need compassion, which I grudgingly admit I sorely lack except with my closest friends and family. People need certain social interactions to help them deal with the most painful, and sometimes the most joyful, moments in life. The thing is, those very interactions seem to be the sole domain of religion, with all its strings attached, all its misanthropy and hatred of human nature, its bigotry and hatred and petty cruelty.
So no, sorry, Jim, no grand tale of woe which would explain my disdain for religion. The only thing you need to do in order to understand why I’m over here is to look at the cold, hard facts: the murders, the wars, the oppression, the crimes both great and small, the guilt, the corruption, the naked greed, the theft of land, money, and resources from the people throughout history under the banner of tithes. The sooner we drop religion like a bad habit - which is really being generous, just calling it a bad habit - then the sooner we find out just how humane humanity really is. And I think we’ll be pleasantly surprised at how much better we can do without lugging around thousands of years of pain and suffering for the sake of a fairy-tale god… without the cross you bear.
In short, it’s not because someone did something to me, Jim. It’s because it’s the right thing to do.
[Reply]
Thank you so much for your beautiful words, Darque. I especially loved the Walt Whitman and Poe quotes. (I know that song, it’s lovely)
After just enduring a loved one’s wake and funeral just before x-mas I can completely identify with what you said. Unfortunately we also had to sit thru a service by the Masons (or Freemasons, whatever they’re called). By the time I was half-way thru I felt completely detached from the rest of the “mourners” and wished I could just leave to end what was difficult for me to endure.
I’m hoping my Atheist children will be able to prevent any of this crap when I die. Hopefully they will be stronger than my non-practicing catholic husband. I plan to donate my body to University of Michigan school of medicine and would like no services whatsoever so hopefully it will all work out when that day comes, hopefully a long time down the road…
[Reply]
thanks to you Darque. you’ve put it all very well & succinctly.
I admire you and what you DO stand for & believe in. I’m in much the same boat, so to speak.
one minor thing I’d like to add. during the service for my grandfather’s burial a few years back, they did actually call out for anyone who wasn’t “saved” to come down front and ask GEEZ-us into their heart. I found that extremely offensive as well as the personal anecdotes the “preacher” was spouting about my grandfather, a man whom he barely knew.
I found your essay in my search for what to say as an atheist to those of faith who’ve lost a loved one without compromising my beliefs.
[Reply]