In honor of those that have died before
Just now I was thinking about dead people. A few months ago, when I told my wife that I no longer believed in a God she asked me, “So what happens when we die?” and I replied, “Probably nothing.” It may seem a simple enough interchange, but it was the most profound 10 seconds of my life. I was admitting something we all dread to think about, and admitting it to someone I love very dearly. Someone who would rather not think about such things and go on living a fun life and being a complete joy to others, which she is.
Why I threw in “probably” has puzzled me a bit, maybe it was because I actually don’t know. Still, I’m fairly certain that we just die. Sad as it is. Our beliefs about the hearafter — Heaven, reincarnation, or whatever — are based on the fact that we can’t imagine ourselves not being. We have developed ways to cope with our inevitable demise. Those beliefs serve their purpose for some. I prefer to learn as much about the world and life as I can before I kick off, and maybe make some sort of mark too, so others can remember me. I guess that’s my attempt to ensure immortality of some kind.
My pending divorce, from the one I love dearly, has something to do with my shift in belief among other things. Before being an atheist I was a proud, “saved” Christian. I knew many stories from the Bible, and read it regularly. I was never really able to make heads or tales of it. Some of the Bible made sense, some parts seemed to completely contradict other parts, and much of it was nothing more than magical thinking on the part of our less knowledgeable bretheren of bygone days.
Looking back I actually wonder what the heck I was “saved” from. Sometime before my rebirth as a Christian (rebirth was easy. All I had to do was ask the Lord Jesus into my heart. A very simple process — too simple, it seems, to ensure “everlasting life.”) I was what some call a religious moderate. That is to say, I believed in God, and believed that we go somewhere when we die, but didn’t regularly attend church, didn’t say grace, didn’t pray much, and just went about my normal life. Which among other things, included playing in a band, drinking, smoking (things I still do on occasion), and generally enjoying myself. I had friends that I loved, family I loved, and I still do. But I just lived and let live. I didn’t harm a fly (well, okay… flies) but other than my few vices I was a generally good guy.
Was I really such a bad person that I needed saving? What the heck had I done? Am I really such a bad guy that I deserve hell? The guilt factor is a very motivating aspect of belief and religion. The call for confession and the need for forgiveness make us seem like the saddest lot. Heathens in need of salvation. Sinners in need of redemption. Losers praying for the favor of some unseen supernatural power. Why are we losers? I don’t need to feel that way.
Back to dead people… My friend shot himself in the head a while back. Dead. Gone. I’m not sure why he did what he did, but while he was alive he was a kindred spirit that I had many good times with. He was a friend. Sure, we were imperfect, we were punks. We were long-haired musicians who loved nothing more than to enjoy life, talk about struff and make cool music. I miss him. He was a great person. Time and space had grown between us, but on occasion he would call out of the blue to say hi. According to the Bible I’m to believe that he was a sinful heathen deserving of eternal punishment in Hell.
To borrrow a phrase made more popular by my skeptical friends Penn & Teller, “Bullshit!”
As human beings why should anyone be considered more deserving of eternity in a place called “hell” than those who attend church trying to get into a place called “heaven?”
But back to dead people… We love the people we have known, for every reason they made us feel that way. We miss the people that aren’t with us anymore. These are natural feelings. I’m going to miss my cats. I know they will probably be gone long before me, but they don’t know that. Do I need to believe in a Kitty Heaven to quell my sadness, or allay their fears? No. They don’t have any fears. I’m not a child, and they’re not conscious people.
All we can do is remember, until we can’t remember anymore. All we can do is love, until we can’t love anymore. So here is a toast in honor of those that have died before. Let’s remember them, and love the memories.
Notice I didn’t say, “those that have gone on before.” I’m sure there are believers who will call me a loser, and banish me to hell. But there are probably a million more religious moderates who understand what I’m saying, and agree.
Here’s to life. Live it. And love it!
