Dead Arrogance

It's easy to be an athiest when you don't have to stare death in the face. Last week my partner's mom passed away from cancer and my lack of belief was thrust before me. In the sea of believers, Baptists and Catholics of small town Nova Scotia, I was a dry island. I felt as if my partner wanted water the sea could provide and I had none.

Fear (in this case of death) and faith (more like hope) are chained together in these difficult times. People of faith have comforting words to offer my partner. Their lips drip with the soothing words of Heaven. Who's a better person? The one who consoles with hopes of an afterlife or the atheist who stays silent because the truth may be too hard for the mourner to bear.

The Catholoic funeral was dry and tasteless. They only said her name three times. Three times in a whole hour of ritual. The service was more of a Godvertisement then anything else. It seemed disrespectful towards the memory of the a fine wife, mother, sister, and friend that she was. I found the speeches and prayers hollow. Its promises seemed forced, a type of faith beyond reason.

How do they know what they say about the afterlife is true? They don't. No more then anyone else knows. Death is the great equalizer, especially in supposed revealed knowledge. No one knows what comes after life, including the atheist.

There lies the big lesson of this horrible event:

No one knows.

To assume anything, and then have the arrogance to preach it to the crowds is something both the believer and atheist should be ashamed of. Perhaps it is best that our beliefs truly do remain private.

All that we can truly know on this side of the veil are the fine memories of those we will miss so very much. This all can agree upon.