“Heaven, as conventionally conceived, is a place so inane, so dull, so useless, so miserable that nobody has ever ventured to describe a whole day in heaven, though plenty of people have described a day at the seaside.”
--George Bernard Shaw
“It’s an incredible con job, when you think of it, to believe something now in exchange for life after death. Even corporations, with all their reward systems, don’t try to make it posthumous.”
“Certainty about the next life is simply incompatible with tolerance in this one.”
“And like a good Jewish boy, he couldn’t stand Mama – her politics, priorities, relationship to money, or religion.”
Jonathan Safran Foer, on Bobby Fischer, in “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” (2012)
Much as we try to avoid it, atheists sometimes find themselves an uncomfortable minority of one in the presence of believers practicing their faith. In brief, one-on-one interactions, it’s all well and good to create snappy comebacks to “I’ll pray for you” and “God loves atheists.” But how about when you find yourself at a service or ceremony and the religious crap just drags on and on? Try as we may to avoid houses of worship and religious ritual of every kind, we are sometimes trapped.
Such is the case with my Mother’s funeral. No cause for alarm -- she is still very much alive (and driving!) at 95. But there are two scenarios for her inevitable demise. One involves a sudden cessation of life, preferably during sleep. The body just quits. The other is a prolonged illness, though she hates dependency (Dad never gave her any sympathy, one of his few failings).
In either case, there will be a quick funeral. Unlike other believers, who have a wake and viewing (because what if the person isn’t actually dead? – a very real possibility in times past), Jews like to get ‘em in the ground quickly, in 24 hours. So the title of this post is a question I’ve tried to answer in advance, because I’ll need the answer sooner or later.
Religion and death
They’ve been together all along. The latter is the primary motivation for the former. At first, it was worship of ancestors. Where did they go?? Later, gods, up there. My second father-in-law, a skeptic with only a high school education, had long ago divined that the primary motivation for religion was death.
What’s the alternative? How does a courageous humanist die? Christopher Hitchens is a role model, if not for the behaviors that cut him off prematurely. He faced death courageously and wrote about it eloquently. I was looking to Rabbi Sherwin Wine to set an example, but he too was cut off prematurely (at 79, at the top of his game) in a car accident.
One thing is certain: the ability to face death without yielding to the temptations to flee into fantasy is a mental muscle, requiring years of training. It’s not likely that a weak believer, or even a hedging-my-bets, wishy-washy one will abandon religion in his/her last months, days, or hours.
The flight from fear of death leads into the waiting arms of the cleric, always willing to give fake comfort and to craft bogus, cookie-cutter eulogies. When people die in Western cultures. priests, ministers, and rabbis take over, but I’m sure every other culture links religion with death somehow. The Japanese, at their traditional fall festival O-Bon, put paper lanterns out to sea, there to meet the souls of the departed.
In the case of the death of my wife’s mother, rabbis and “black hatters” took over. The latter are all-the-way orthodox Jews who affect Amish-like dress, along with the side-curls and fringes hanging down from their waists; very attractive. A rabbi intruded and provided stale bromides. Lots of praying.
Yes, folks, death is where they get you, and preparing to die right is what it’s all about. The clergy are there with all their rituals, including – highly distasteful to me – humiliating prayers to God, even prayers of praise, as with the obnoxious, groveling, Jewish Kaddish. In other prayers, God is begged to “accept” the deceased, whatever that means.
Tradition is piled on tradition. Get ‘em in the ground fast. At the cemetery, observant Jews are expected to do all the shoveling; no back-hoe for them. They can get little pin-on rags so they don’t have to rip their clothes. Evidently their ancients went too far, since the Torah prohibits mourners from gashing their own flesh.
It’s the 21st century and we’re still burying our dead; such is the power of the religion/death nexus.. Think of the need for affordable housing or arable land or forests in this great country…all of that land gone to waste (like golf courses), all occupied by often vast, non-taxable expanses of grass littered with mounds or slabs of stone; below, corpses, in containers, in various degrees of decomposition. Long after Homo sapiens is gone, the alien anthropologists of the future will be scratching their heads over that (if they have heads).
Funerals cost tens of thousands of dollars, as the morticians prey on the mourners, who pay up out of guilt, grief, ostentation, or all three. All this post-mortem expense to dress up the corpse and put it in the ground, yet still deny that before long it will turn into something horrible and unrecognizable. Here in New England, a church and cemetery in the town center are de rigeur. Religion and death, side by side, literally.
I could go on and on about religion and death. Suffice it to say that people get very irrational and take refuge in ritual.
Mother’s religion follows the (unofficial) four pillars of wishy-washy Conservative Judaism: (i) some sort of Passover Seder, (ii) High Holiday/New Year synagogue attendance, usually three days; (iii) lavish bar/bat mitzvah; (iv) Hanukkah menorah/party.
That’s about it. For Mom, frequently uttering “God willing” takes the place of prayer, as if to say to God, “I know you’re there and in control. I just can’t be bothered with praying three times a day.”
There is also a quasi-religious quality to her insisting that (i) her burial service be done by the local congregation (same name, but now in a different building), by this rabbi (even though he’s probably the 10th in her 60+ years), in front of the people who knew and liked her, of which there are many; and (ii) both sons attend. This will presumably build up existential brownie-points and guarantee her safe passage across the river Styx to Hades or to the Promised Land.
So I cut a deal: I would be there, on 24 hours’ notice, on the conditions that I not pray (including the revered Kaddish, repeated numerous times while standing), not stand at all, and not wear a yarmulke (skullcap) or tallit (prayer shawl). Mom agreed. SO I get to keep my dignity – at my age, I’ve run out of pretendability, though no one will understand that -- and Mom gets the pre-mortem satisfaction (because she sure won’t get any afterward) of my being there.
In the same vein, she fulfills a promise made to her father to visit him, i.e., his gravesite, and visit she does. She actually says, “Here I am, Pa.” I wish she could see what her father actually looks like : 0
But it doesn’t end there. Funerals are for the living. It is the living, not Mom, who will see me sit quietly, bare-headed.
At this point, events become unpredictable.
What will they do?
Will the local Jewish bourgeoisie ignore me? Or will they leave their pews and converge on me, epi-pens drawn, invoke my Mother’s memory, and try to arm-twist me into submission? It won’t work.
Will they tell me that this is a house of God (it is not – it is a house of darkness, superstition, and make-believe) and that I should have respect? That misses the point of religion: it’s the believers who must respect it; it’s their religion.
If my religion enjoined me not to practice other religions (as Judaism does), or if I were, say, a Hindu and didn’t believe any of it, would I be allowed to sit bare-headed? Or will we get into a discussion, right in front of Mom’s coffin, of what is a Jew?
Will they ask me to leave? What if I say I promised Mom I’d be there? Do they want me to violate a deathbed oath? Do I have to get all candid and say, with a what’s-the-fuss? expression, “I’m sorry, but what’s the problem? I just don’t believe any of this stuff. The important thing is that YOU believe it.”
What then? Will they get nasty? Will they call the cops? Nah. Jews don’t like to make trouble, especially with the goyish constabulary. So I will play their game: let them know that if they eject me, they will be forcing me to renounce my promise to my Mother, and the weight of that “sin” is on them. Then I will leave.
But suppose I stay and am asked to deliver a eulogy? Maybe I should use that bully pulpit to denounce the fairy tales and primitive-shepherd silliness that inform most of Judaism, to insist that nothing in their holy Torah really happened. Again, nah. Challenging people’s most sacred beliefs usually leads them to cling to and defend those beliefs, however fallacious, even more strongly.
Or maybe I should get up there and chide them on the bigotry they had just shown me, then segue from that into an account of Mother’s bigotry during my formative years (she has since mellowed out).
That would be quite a eulogy. Mostly, when it comes to ostracism, exclusion, and fear of The Other, Jews, even lukewarm ones, can equal the most rabid redneck, WASP, or Muslim. A minority are liberal and tolerant of intermarriage.
Clearly, a lot more prep is called for.
I am not a militant, angry atheist. I do not welcome confrontation, unless very basic principles are involved. I do not want to argue with people or cause any disruption, especially at a funeral.
Surely other A/N heretics and apostates have been in the same position. How have you handled it?