This is blog is as good a place as any to briefly visit a subject that, along with my own perspective, is not at all new. Nor will it go away.
A friend of mine lost someone this weekend -- a spouse of someone she's been close to for a long time. The woman who died was in her early thirties. Cancer. Thanks to some ugly and probably unavoidable circumstances, my friend never got to say goodbye.
The wake was today. The woman's parents were there and I'm told the entire tableau was awful. Wakes and the like are for survivors, not the deceased. But sometimes there's no celebrating a lost life, no matter now fond the memories of lively times. When someone dies young after a painful downhill course, it's nothing but an insult to humanity itself.
As an atheist, I can never take comfort in the notion that friends and family members who are gone for good are somehow living silently on in some "better place", or any place, even participating as they see fit in Earthly affairs as disembodied "spirits" who occasionally join in our personal circuses again in times of crisis, or during important sporting events, or whenever. We simply do not have access to this understandable but trivially baseless luxury.
At the same time, I can take solace in never having to ask "Why?" If, thanks to a lightning strike, a nursery burns to the ground with everyone inside while the penitentiary full of serial rapists across the street is miraculously spared, I do not have to look for deeper answers. Shit really does just happen. But this is no way makes it acceptable. Death, suffering, and pain are all deplorable to me. They are offensive in ways that defy articulation, and as hard as this can be, I had damned well better feel that way or else I'll know I've lost some critical part of myself along the way.
Yet this unyielding helplessness neatly captures almost everything there is about the human religious impulse. Granted, we with our comparatively facile forebrains have taken this ball and barreled amok with it, to the tune of all sorts of beautiful artwork, wartime atrocities, financial scams, social customs ranging from the mundane to the unspeakably bizarre, too much literature to keep track of, and more.
The metaphysical poet John Donne made this simple but compelling observation: "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind." I would change this today to offset Donne's choice of pronouns, but can we not all understand exactly what he meant without even relying on language at all?
I do wish there were a way to communicate to those who cannot see the world through the godless lens of reality that we atheists are just as in tune with the very wrongness of death and needless suffering as anyone else. To view nature as devoid of conscious caring or purpose is not to deny the utter helplessness wrought by the untimely and often patently unfair loss of someone we love.
Comments
My condolences. To her, her friend, and to you; Donne was right--every death diminishes all of us, or at least all who know, them, or know someone who knew them, or... like the concentric waves a rock creates on a still pond.
We only get one life, and we are extraordinarily lucky to get that. Luckier still if we are among those able to read or write here. Life is not a gift, but an extraordinary chance. The gift, if there is a gift, is given by those who know us, by those who feel the ripple when we are gone. We never know how long that gift will be there, but it seems we always think it will be longer than it is, and it always feels unfair--always is unfair--to have a friendship torn away that should have lasted decades longer.
And when we know that we only get one life, there is no illusion of reunion later. A colleague here recently lost her son. Not "lost"--he was shot and killed in Iraq. I have heard people say they are happy she has her faith to make her feel better at this time. I have kept quiet, but I want to scream "Why should she feel better? She has lost her son! If anyone should be devastated, she should!"...
Atheists do see the wrongness of death. Maybe sometimes too much, but I would not ever claim that believers don't share that. I guess maybe it comes from being "involved in mankind."
Posted by: Anon | February 25, 2008 10:33 PM
Death does not diminish us, the survivors, but rather enriches us. But it takes time.
That statement may sound harsh, but in nearly 49 years of living I've found it to be true. I've lost friends -- some of them quite young -- and grieved; only later did I realize that my grief made me truly appreciate such a friend by reflecting on who s/he really was, not my experiential window of him/her. This experience was magnified intensely when I lost first my mother, then my father. The loss of my mother led me to many discussions with my father about things I never knew, revealing facets of her personality and accomplishments that were news to me. I've experienced a much reduced version of those discussions with my father's relatives after his death. I've done my share of crying, but I've acquired insights that have made me understand them better and me better.
But still, losing someone you love -- or even are just fond of -- is a bitch.
Posted by: Karen | February 25, 2008 11:32 PM
"we atheists are just as in tune with the very wrongness of death and needless suffering as anyone else."
Possibly more so. I often wonder how much further along the world would be in life-saving and life-extending biotechnology if we (meaning everyone) faced head-on the reality of mortality, and subsequent fear of death, rather than ignoring it by embracing the comforting stories of old theologies.
Posted by: Jason Failes | February 26, 2008 12:34 PM
Against Entropy
The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore
Once made the table integral and good;
And suddenly the crystal hits the floor.
Electrons find their paths in subtle ways,
A massless eddy in a trail of smoke;
The names of lovers, light of other days--
Perhaps you will not miss them. That's the joke.
The universe winds down. That's how it's made.
But memory is everything to lose;
Although some of the colors have to fade,
Do not believe you'll get the chance to choose.
Regret, by definition, comes too late;
Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.
--John M. Ford, 1957-2006
Posted by: Luna_the_cat | February 27, 2008 7:03 AM
We enjoy health and life only BECAUSE there is such a thing as pain, sickness and death. Fair or not, these are elements of life that every human experiences in some way. Just as you can't have water without hydrogen, you can't have life without suffering and death. I am reminded of the movie Shadowlands in which C.S. Lewis struggles with the suffering and ultimate death of his young wife, yet realizes that his intense grief is worth it as it is a byproduct of the intense joy that he experienced with his wife while she was healthy and alive.
Suffering is a drag, but I believe it to be a necessary ingredient in this beautiful thing called life.
Posted by: Lofcaudio | February 27, 2008 11:39 AM
I am reminded of the movie Shadowlands in which C.S. Lewis struggles with the suffering and ultimate death of his young wife, yet realizes that his intense grief is worth it as it is a byproduct of the intense joy that he experienced with his wife while she was healthy and alive.
I don't buy this line of argument in the least. He experienced this joy with his wife before she died. How could the manner of her death, be it peaceful or full of suffering, in any way reach back in time and affect his earlier experience? Now, he might have looked at this as some manner of bargain with the devil (and in Lewis' case, that might be a tad ironic), and considered it worthwhile, but it certainly wasn't necessary.
Further, I do not believe that you must have pain in order to know joy. And this is coming from an aging runner who has won a few hard-fought races over the years, so I think I know just a little about pain and joy, and how they *might* sometimes be linked. But you know what? I'm also a musician. It gives me great joy to play, and unlike racing, there's no comparable pain. While one might define joy as the absence of pain, I think that's not a very good one. One can always compare a sensation to the commonplace and mundane.
Posted by: JimFiore | February 27, 2008 1:28 PM
C. S. Lewis was a great fantasy novelist and a horrible philosopher.
Posted by: Kevin Beck | February 27, 2008 1:34 PM
But you know what? I'm also a musician. It gives me great joy to play, and unlike racing, there's no comparable pain.
I too am a musician, and I can readily remember many an agonizing (and sometimes downright painful) rehearsal/practice session. Unless your name is Amadeus, you don't just grab an instrument and experience the bliss of virtuosic performance.
While one might define joy as the absence of pain, I think that's not a very good one.
Perhaps pain can be defined as the withdrawal (removal) of a source of joy?
Posted by: Lofcaudio | February 27, 2008 2:25 PM
"C. S. Lewis was...a horrible philosopher."
Of course, I disagree. I do congratulate you, however, on being able to type the name C. S. Lewis without including the phrase "false trilemma." I assumed your browser had a macro that inserted those two words any time you would type "C. S. Lewis".
Posted by: Lofcaudio | February 27, 2008 2:29 PM
Actually, no. I only address that when someone's dumb enough to put stock in it and argues on behalf of its supposed persuasiveness. Similarly, you your faint credit, you don't always act like an asshole despite the compulsions springing from your own programming and instincts, and managed not to do so in this discussion until just now.
Posted by: Kevin Beck | February 27, 2008 2:35 PM
I too am a musician, and I can readily remember many an agonizing (and sometimes downright painful) rehearsal/practice session. Unless your name is Amadeus, you don't just grab an instrument and experience the bliss of virtuosic performance.
No, few could ever hope to pick up an instrument and immediately play well, but that's a red herring. I would not describe practice as pain. Frustrating at times to be sure, and sometimes inconvenient or tiring, but not painful. Unless you play a barbed-wire harp.
Perhaps pain can be defined as the withdrawal (removal) of a source of joy?
Definitely not. Consider: If I am playing well and having a good time, I am joyful. If I stop playing I am not in pain. I am simply not joyful as I was. In fact, I might just be tired or sleepy.
You seem enamored of a false dichotomy: things are either joyful or painful, thus NOT pain = joy and NOT joy = pain. Nope. What's worse is the thought that in order to experience a sensation at a certain level of intensity, one must also experience the opposite sensation at the same intensity which is what you implied initially. Thus, if this were true, one would have to assume that a starving third-world orphan suffering from river blindness would necessarily grow up to be one of the happiest people on the planet. Either that, or this child isn't really feeling any sort of pain right now.
Posted by: JimFiore | February 27, 2008 4:22 PM
Frustrating at times to be sure, and sometimes inconvenient or tiring, but not painful. Unless you play a barbed-wire harp.
It would seem that we are defining "pain" differently, as I was thinking of a more general description of pain which would include emotional and mental suffering, while you are thinking of it strictly in physical terms.
You seem enamored of a false dichotomy: things are either joyful or painful, thus NOT pain = joy and NOT joy = pain.
I think you misunderstand me. Perhaps I can explain it better. You have music as a source of joy. I am not suggesting that whenever you are not engaging in the production of such music that you cannot be joyful. Instead, if music or your ability to play were removed (permanently or for an extended period of time) for whatever reason, I would surmise that you would suffer.
What's worse is the thought that in order to experience a sensation at a certain level of intensity, one must also experience the opposite sensation at the same intensity which is what you implied initially.
In essence, that is exactly what I intimated, but only as it pertains to gaining or losing something of value (the whole risk/reward relationship). I can think of numerous examples to illustrate this point, but I'll try to stick to one which follows with the original post.
I'll admit, I was a little saddened when I first learned of Heath Ledger's passing. I certainly did not touch his life in any way and his life only touched mine through the handful of movies he appeared in which I happened to watch. I found mild enjoyment in his roles in Casanova, The Brothers Grimm and a few other movies. As a result, his death had very little impact on me. However, those who were bigger fans or knew him on a more intimate level were obviously grieving in a more substantial way than I was. Why? Because he brought them more joy, satisfaction, contentment (whatever word you want to use here) and will no longer be providing that positive effect now that he has passed.
To summarize my original thought, death is an element of life. The death of a loved one is a painful experience for those living who were positively touched by the deceased. The more positive and intense that touch, the more painful the loss is. Knowing that, should we recklessly love, all the while risking our emotional well-being should we lose that object of our affection? I say "Yes. It's worth it. It's life."
Posted by: Lofcaudio | February 27, 2008 5:22 PM
Dude, you're OK. But this doesn't mean we can all take warm showers together in the wee hours of the morning.
Posted by: Kevin Beck | February 27, 2008 6:01 PM
So all you're saying is that if we value something greatly, we will feel great loss, and if we don't, we won't?
Why didn't you just say that?
(And for the record, I was not referring only to physical pain.)
Posted by: JimFiore | February 27, 2008 6:15 PM
Thea was my friend. She was beautiful and intelligent and an atheist. She did not "find God" prior to her death and would tolerate her Russian Orthodox parents various prayers and blessings only because she knew it would make them feel better.
Her husband has been a good friend of mine for years and, when I arrived at the funeral home on Monday, I saw him outside having a cigarette. I walked up behind him and put my chin on his shoulder, and he said only this, "I still don't believe in God, but I know what hell is. This is it."
Suffering "may be a drag" Lofcaudio, but it certainly didn't make my group of friends appreciate life or God anymore. We simply hate that Thea had to suffer and that we lost her.
Posted by: Amy | February 27, 2008 6:32 PM
Amy, please accept my condolences on your loss.
Posted by: Lofcaudio | February 27, 2008 7:23 PM
Lofcaudio;
Jim said: "You seem enamored of a false dichotomy: things are either joyful or painful, thus NOT pain = joy and NOT joy = pain."
Then you said: "I think you misunderstand me. Perhaps I can explain it better. You have music as a source of joy. I am not suggesting that whenever you are not engaging in the production of such music that you cannot be joyful. Instead, if music or your ability to play were removed (permanently or for an extended period of time) for whatever reason, I would surmise that you would suffer."
I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but that is not a "better" explanation, it is merely a more verbose way to repeat Jim's words.
Posted by: hopper3011 | February 28, 2008 7:13 AM