If you truly believe that your loved ones will live on after death, why are funerals occaisions of mourning, rather than getting early acceptance to a really good college?
Probably because you know you’re going to miss them and that the good times you had with them will never be repeated. Also, dying is often associated with pain and misery. Who would want pain and misery on their loved ones?
Stritcly speaking, though, the separation caused by death is very brief–in fact, infinitesimally brief–compared to eternity. I suppose a Christian would say that people still living mortal, timebound lives will inevitably have trouble grasping that.
As to the second, though, childbirth is also associated with pain and misery, yet it’s rarely an occasion for mourning and grief.
Then again, don’t Christians in fact sometimes express thoughts like that? (“I’m not sad, because he’s gone to a better place now.”) On the one hand, we jab them as hypocrites if they show sadness in the face of death; on the other hand, it seems kind of creepy (from a secular point of view) when they don’t.
My dad died in December. Prior to that, I really did consider all the rituals associated with death in our culture to be pretty much frippery. The dead don’t care, right?
But as I watched my mother, who was all but completely incapacitated when Dad died (she found him in the hallway after his heart attack), stand there beside his casket and slowly but surely as the day and evening rolled on start talking about it with a stronger voice and a firmer grip on her emotions as each mourner came past (and I didn’t realize that my dad even knew that many people!), I realized that the rituals aren’t so much for the deceased as they are for the survivors.
All of the hullabaloo that goes on in the several days after the death help to create some closure. The deceased is gone. One part of the survivors’ lives is over and a new part is beginning. The rituals are the dividing line.
Funerals are for the living, not the dead.
jayjay
I had the privelege of publicly blurting a few shambling sentences today in memory of a good friend of mine who died ten days ago; she was a Christian (and I have to say, IMHO one of the most Christ-like people I have ever known).
She was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer in January and refused treatment (on the grounds that the treatment offered no hope of a cure, only an extra month or two of life, but life in discomfort with no hair etc.)
She passed away quite suddenly (only a few days earlier she was active and everything was more or less normal) and with very little pain and misery.
It is my personal belief that death had no victory in this event and that she now enjoys communion with our Lord.
Her funeral, and the last week or so, have been times of joy and tears, happiness and loss; we are happy that she lives on, we are thankful for the times we had together - there’s a space where she used to be - she isn’t here with us any more and we miss her terribly ; selfish? - possibly.
For a brief quasi-hijack (since this thread is of course aimed at western religion):
There was a fellow by the name of Marpa, who had stumbled into being respected in Buddhist circles, roundabouts a thousand years ago or so. He lived on his farm, with his family, and various monks who’d cycle through to see what he had to say about things.
One day, his son died, in one of the various sudden, unexpected, and unpleasant ways that life frequently sucker-punches people with. Marpa–this is a sage, keep in mind–was absolutely inconsolable for a time. This caused all sorts of cognitive dissonance for the monks. Trying to be helpful, one came up and asked, “We have all been taught that all is illusion. But if all is illusion, why should you mourn so?”
Marpa’s answer was, “Some illusions are much bigger than others.”
The simple answer is, whatever belief system or religious path or secular path or combination thereof that a human being narrates themself as following, people mourn death because people are people. That tends to trump beliefs–and well it should.
And of course, this leads to the question of why murder is considered a sin. One could make an argument that the best thing one could do for other people is to convert them to Christianity, and then kill them before they had a chance to fall from grace.
Would it though? It would be bad for you, but would you be asuring them heaven?
If some versions of Christianty are correct, it would. If Catholicism is true, then you should hang outside of confesionals and kill people as they come out (or maybe wait until after they complete their penance).
First of all, I think we get sad when people die not out of a real concern for the person, but out of concern for the world that will exist without this person. We miss them. That carries across religious and secular boundries. Even if we think we’re going to be reunited with the person in heaven, we still miss them now.
Secondly, killing causes suffering for those still living. Thus the whole murder-bad thing. Despite the acts of various religions throughout the ages, no religion (that I know of) seeks to increase suffering in earthly existence.
Maybe the reason that christians are sad when people die is that even though those people will go to heaven, heaven isn’t that great of a place?
Look at the facts: Heaven was originally designed to be a perfect place for humans. But humans were changed by original sin. Where does god tell us that heaven has also changed in order to be perfect for these new humans? In fact, isn’t heaven usually thought by christians to be eternal and unchanging? Isn’t it likely that heaven is just a garden of eden type place, perfect for what humans could have been, but not for what we are? If so, there is truly no peace for us, not even in death. We will either be out of place, or our natures will have to be changed so that we are unrecognizable. Either way, it seems sad to me.
I think there are numerous errors in such thinking. The most obvious is that one can not have absolute assurance that this person’s conversion was genuine.
Additionally, there are many schools of thought which say that a fall from grace is not possible for the genuinely converted – or at the very least, that it would only be precipitated by an extreme rebellion against God’s law. Hence, for these people, there should certainly be no rush to end this person’s existence.
Also, there was the point raised earlier – that killing this person prematurely would cause great suffering to the people around him. In fact, if they learn that this act was performed by a believer, that would probably cause them to reject the gospel message. This would erase the immediate advantage perceived in ending this person’s life.
Then there are the consequences of such vigilante killing on society at large. Many believe that our society is becoming desensitized to the value of life, thanks to the perpetuation of murder of violence. I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that the killing of such individuals would cause others – especially the highly impressionable – to devalue human life in general.
And finally, there’s the question of what this person might accomplish if he were allowed to live. For all you know, he could be the next Billy Graham, bringing untold thousands to salvation. Heavens, if he could bring even one more person to salvation – directly or indirectly – then killing him would be a grave mistake.
I think that TheRyan’s argument exemplifies a common fallacy among critics of Christianity – namely, the notion that finding an immediate advantage to an action renders that action morally desirable. Clearly, that conclusion does not follow.
Yeah, I bet it really surprised God when we changed, I mean, it’s not like he could have anticipated anything; I mean, sheesh, he’d have to be, like omniscient.
I think most Christians don’t consider heaven to be a place so much as a state of being.
As a Christian, I have been promised everlasting life, which may refer to an immortality in Heaven, or a grace while living my mortal days.
But as Carl Sagan used to say, the same atoms that are in us now, were parts of ancient stars that had gone nova and created the elements heavier than hydrogen and helium. Those atoms will exist after I am long gone, and some will only stay with me for a time. My body has always been a part of the universe, and always will be. My consciousness can touch the people I love while I am living, and carry the memories of the people I love my whole life. I this respect, no human has ever been richer than I am, nor ever will be, but many will be as rich as I have enjoyed this life to be.
Funerals are truly for the living. We are comforted by friends and loved ones in a time of great sorrowful parting. We are shown respect even by those that we counted as enemies.
Beloved, let us love one another. For he who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love. 1 John 4:7-8
My friends, if you need anything more than has been said here, then enlightenment will not be found by you today.
It’s an interesting question. My group of friends, which is quite diverse in terms of both having religion and degree of devotion, recently lost a young friend of ours (herself not a believer, but her parents were).
But don’t think there was any real difference in the amount of comfort/suffering people experienced over her death accross having beliefs of heaven and afterlife, having weak beliefs in them, and not having such beliefs. Everyone hurt, and everyone had to deal with it.
Instead of broad conclusions about beliefs of heaven not being effective at specially comforting however, my guess would be rather that they WERE comforting to those that believed, but just that they were not in general necessary as the only means of comfort and coping. Religious people deal with major events in religious terms: that’s how they know how to live those experiences. Lacking a religious model, they might well feel that lack, and it WOULD be harder for them to cope. But non-religious people also have their own ways as well. We all go through life and learn how to deal with death: and we come to our own understandings and peace with it. Sometimes that understanding is religious, sometimes not. But it’s important regardless of what it is.
Anyone who’s been to a rolickin’ Irish Wake will tell you that funerals don’t have to be sad. 
You ask a wonderful question, Robert, and one that has exercised me in the past. It’s worth noting that Catholic churches often refer to the requiem service as a “Mass of the Resurrection.”
As others have noted, grief is one of the most selfish of emotions. We do not grieve for the state of the person that has died; we grieve because we no longer have him or her as a living presence with us. I’m quite confident that WallyM7 is putting the Stamp of Disapproval, in God’s behalf, on some of the things that have occasioned Pit rants: :wally: But those of us who knew and loved him as a poster here still feel an empty place where he was.
To illustrate my point a bit better, let me tell you a non-death story. Eleven years ago, my wife and I took in a 17-year-old runaway boy. Brilliant, insightful, and troubled, he and I meshed almost perfectly. By the time we had talked for a half hour, it was like we’d known each other for decades. The relationship between him and me was indescribable, comprising elements of the closest of friendships, a father-son relationship, two brothers, and a couple in love. To be with me healed his wounds and made him happy; to be with him healed mine and made me happy.
He met the girl of the family around the corner, fell in love with her and married her, and gave me three wonderful honorary grandchildren. And, like many a marriage, they fell into problems and separated. And I was there to nurse him through it – though we now live hundreds of miles apart, he moved to stay with family near me.
He and she achieved a rapprochement, and I knew that his happiness depended largely on being a part of a family with his wife and kids. And so I helped him to achieve peace and reuniting with her, and saw him off to return to his home.
And then I grieved.
Not for him, because I knew he was going back to what would make him truly happy. But for me. Because I’d lost the day-to-day contact with him that had enriched my life while they were separated.
Does that help explain it?
For an analogy, let’s look at a different case, one NOT involving death.
Almost every parent knows and says that his/her job is to prepare children for adulthood and independence. And on the day that a child reaches adulthood, and either gets a job or gets married and finally moves out, most parents would claim they’re proud and happy to see their kids go.
So, if the father of the bride and the mother of the new graduate are really happy and proud, why do they (invariably) cry? Are they liars? Are they hypocrites? No! They’re just human. Losing someone they love is hard and painful, even though they understand it’s a natural and necessary part of life.
It hurts to see someone you love leave, even if you KNOW they’re going to a better place, and that you’re going to see them again. That’s true when your loved ones are only moving to another city. Why wouldn’t it be true when they move on to Heaven?
Hmm. 'Nother question. If a True Believer lost a loved one, and didn’t greive at all, would he/she be considered strong in his/her faith, or just weird? How about a True Unbeliever?