Death and Religion

I was recently at a funeral service for a fairly close family member. I don't in any way mean to seem callous about her passing, but the thoughts I plan to share in this post will largely take it for granted. Tragedy aside, I was really impressed by a few aspects of the service that were not typical of my family's usual methods of handling death. First, the choice of service (held in a Lutheran church) was very calm, fairly neutral, and not overtly religion-specific. After the jerk Republican propagandist who buried my father with his usual "style," this minor accomplishment made me unusually happy. Next, there was no body. My great aunt had donated her body to science. I had heard of this concept before, but never before had I actually seen anyone do it. I found it to be surprisingly classy and extremely tasteful. More so than either cremation or burial. I didn't expect to have that reaction, and yet, it's undeniably how I felt. An unusually clear manifestation of generosity in death.

Both of these observations can be read as me being pleased with a lack of religion in the proceedings, which is not entirely unfair. However, despite my usual hostility towards organized religion, I do give it two nods of approval. Religion (almost any religion) provides a very reasonable method for instilling non-savage social values into children. Children are a class of people who quite naturally see the world in fully-selfish, sociopathic terms. I believe that simply being exposed to an equally self-confident pronouncement of the opposite helps them develop. Religion also provides an excellent outlet for helping people cope with death. Further, religion seems to provide the most comfort to those most in need of it. This is especially true in times of extreme challenge, such as death. In fact, this scalable placating effect the major religions have is the biggest reason that I maintain a generally neutral stance on them. (When I was younger, I more openly despised them.) I have never managed to imagine some other custom or social structure that could even begin to replace this effect. Because of that, I maintain a tentative restraint when critiquing what I would characterize as the harmful effects that religions have on society in the better times.

Bringing these ideas together, I ask the following: how do we handle death in the absence of religion? It sounds like a silly question, but I don’t mean it to be. I would argue that there are two significant answers. The first is “privately.” I am trying my best to think of a non-religious passing, and the closest I can muster are either deaths that are not linked to any form of ceremony, or reserved gatherings that seem like a hybrid of a wake and a (quiet) cocktail party. The second answer that occurs to me is that the most religious, remaining family members of the deceased hijack the tragedy and turn it into a religious event anyway. This seems to be a fairly common event, at least in my immediate social sphere.

Here also, my first instinct is to disapprove of this insertion of religion where in life there was none (or less). However, on reflection, allowing those who absolutely need religion to have it beats the alternative. I offer the following observation as my most severe critique of vocal atheists:

Targeting the bereaved with what you believe to be progressive social observation and hostility toward dogma is pretty much what Fred Phelps’ family does. It does not inspire sympathy, conversion, or an abatement of grief. Score one for religion.