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Saturday, July 17, 2010

What happens when you die?

For those who may have come on this site from googling a specific phrase ("what happens when you die?"), here are some links to four posts where I discuss my thoughts on the afterlife more directly.

The Afterlife 1: Sources for Our Speech : basically, where my ideas about the afterlife come from.

The Afterlife 2: Justice

The Afterlife 3: Resurrection

The Afterlife 4: Vision

This below, the original post, mostly deals with the difficulty of talking about death in public when someone personally asks you the question: "What happens when (you, me, my aunt, my beloved mother, etc.) die?"

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There are several things I have noticed about being a budding scholar of religion and a developing minister in graduate school at Harvard Divinity School. One thing which happens frequently in conversation runs something like this:

"You're in school? Where at?"

"I'm at Harvard Divinity School?"

After this long pause, one of three responses will come quickly hurtling out of my new-found acquaintance's mouth.
  • "Oh, that's nice!" (generally said in an overly cheerful tone, followed by a couple fleeting glances around me as they desperately look for another conversation partner, and, finally, a long awkward silence)
  • "Oh....you know I used to attend/still attend/would like to attend...." This is the response where they let me know that they either consider themselves "a raging atheist," "spiritual, but not religious" or where they covertly inform me (in hushed tones, since it's Cambridge, Mass.) that they, too, are one of the devout few.
  • "Oh! So what do you think about....."
I find these responses rather interesting because I've noticed that something about telling people you attend Divinity School seems to be the green light for them to let down their hair concerning religious identity and their level of comfort with faith issues. I bring all of this up, though, to lead into a rather interesting encounter I had recently which are related to my more general Divinity School generated conversations.

I recently met an individual who hit me up with a rather different religious question than I've received for some time. What I mean is that the types of questions I tend to get after I unveil myself as a Divinity School student are, in one sense, purely academic. They concern interesting religious issues in the news or in society, perhaps even a difficult theological problem. But, I rarely ever receive a question which is personal or of obvious, direct import to both myself and the person asking the question. This trend is what made my recent encounter so interesting.

He asked me something deceptively basic. "So, what do you think happens when you die?"

Now, for me, the afterlife is a rather tricky thing to talk about. It's not because I lack ideas or have some sort of doubtful angst in regards to my faith. Rather, the afterlife can be a difficult topic to speak about with someone you don't know because that person brings with them a great deal of ideas and, for lack of a better term, emotional and spiritual baggage. Whatever you say about the afterlife, they will directly apply to a family member or friend. For example, if I were an unabashed materialist and told them that I think we slip into an endless oblivion at death, I've just let them know I think Aunt Tilly isn't up walking on streets of gold, but I think she became worm food.

Further, when you are a rather traditional Christian like myself, some of your beliefs about the afterlife don't make for light conversation. For example, when we say the Nicene Creed every Sunday, we confess that Jesus "will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." This confession, as you may imagine, carries some rather strong implications. Again, dear Aunt Tilly's fate might be less than positive.

As a result, I often think that it has become fashionable or customary for Christians to distance themselves from traditional theological concepts in order to appear more palatable to others. One doesn't wish to offend, after all. I've seen this trend particularly in this part of the country and at the school I attend, Harvard. But should we accept the category of "offense" when honestly queried concerning our beliefs?

I don't think so. One thing I had to come to terms with several years ago is the fact that my faith is offensive to others. In our culture, it often seems as if any genuine faith position will be offensive to someone, even if it is a fairly "inclusive" vision of the world or lacks that bedeviling and irritating "certainty" which is supposed to be so terrible about traditional forms of Christian faith. It seems clear, then, one's desire to be inclusive and non-judgmental doesn't seem to preclude the ability of others to find offense. Much more then, do we draw the ire of others when our faith is, in some sense, exclusive or even when we carry the barest amount of conviction in our beliefs.

So, if offense is not the category we should worry about (because we will always offend), what should we be concerned with when answering questions about our faith? I think telling the truth is the important category. An attempt to hide the actual details of our faith when honestly queried is simply an attempt to avoid the difficulty of being honest in the public square. Now, I do recognize the difficulties in speaking about this sort of thing (i.e. the afterlife) in public. You might look crazy, like someone who believes in elves or fairies. You might look like an angry, judgmental person (hardly the first impression anyone desires to give). But, what I think is more important is that avoiding the profession of your actual beliefs may make you "look" more palatable, but it will also make you dishonest, while you remain, in reality, unpalatable.

I think the actual issue we have with such topics is that we fear what it would mean to say them in public. In other words, we don't want to say something which will lead to our personal rejection on the part of our acquaintances, friends, or even our family.

I may be missing the point, and I would be interested to hear some people chime in who read this blog, particularly if they don't share my beliefs (for the sake of brevity, we'll just refer to the Nicene Creed). So, I'm inviting some commentary here. I'm looking for comments which deal with these questions:

  1. When you ask someone about their faith, do you actually want to hear it? Or do you simply want to hear something palatable or attractive? Perhaps something unchallenging?
  2. When you are queried concerning your beliefs (or lack thereof), do you edit yourself to avoid offending people? (e.g. do you give them the Disney version of the story?)
  3. Is there some larger point we're missing here?
Finally, I would just like to signal that I notice I've hardly made a properly theological post on this site, despite my love for studying theology. So, I'm going to head in the direction signaled in this post by making a series of statements on the afterlife, that topic I most hate bringing up. View it as a type of spiritual discipline on my part, an attempt at putting to death that fear of rejection which I think underlies most hesitation to speak on religious issues with new acquaintances. For, I recognize that fear in myself, and I find it unacceptable.

6 comments:

  1. Anonymous19 July, 2010

    Great post as usual, Zach. In response to your questions...

    1. I guess I am genuinely interested in what people believe. Which is rather revelatory since I seem to assume others don't feel the same when they ask me. I suppose that I overestimate how turned off to Christianity and faith in general people are. If anything I hope that they say something challenging so that I can probe deeper into what they believe and why.

    2. I personally do edit my statements or at least spend quite a bit of time explaining certain ideas or terms. It really depends on the day. Sometimes I really don't care to offend. Maybe it's just tougher with people whom we feel we have a strong relationship with. Then there's something to lose if the conversation turns sour. Kind of sad that the people we are closest to are perhaps the hardest to be honest with.

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  2. Hector,

    I also find myself assuming that others don't *really* want to know what I believe. I tend to think this assumption is based on some rather hard empirical evidence, though. I couldn't count on all fingers and toes the number of times I've made someone uncomfortable by revealing that, yes, I really do believe all that sort of thing.

    And, also, I edit and explain like a madman. I think it's partly because I feel the theological task is not simple, even when we have some rather clear beliefs.

    But, I find it's harder for me to be open with someone I have just meant, whereas I don't mind telling someone I'm comfortable with just about anything, even if I think it will irritate.

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  3. I agree with Hector, I edit myself when I feel that I don't have the energy (or if I feel that the energy will be wasted) and that is a terribly selfish thing. That said, we have to at some point pull back. I honestly am more likely to have a meaningful discussion of these terms with non-Christians (I've had some really interesting discussions on airplanes recently). With Christians we're pretty quick to label someone else heretical or heterodox and I just don't care to go the full extent to explain myself.

    A perfect example is if someone would ask me what I think of the afterlife. I'm probably going to take the question b/c that person may well be worth discussing the matter with. I also have to realize that the person may not understand what I mean by time or life to begin with. I'm trying to gauge as I begin whether or not we will fail to 'come to terms' and thus be able to speak meaningfully.

    I again agree with Hector that this is most pronounced with my own close family members and non-academic friends. As academics we learn to understand that our ideas are 'in via' and not to categorize people so quickly b/c we may be misunderstanding what they mean by their words. I am honestly more likely to toss out (in as mysterious a set of language as I can muster) an idea to gauge a reaction from a stranger whereas with family I won't engage as deeply.

    I agree that truthfulness has to be a high value here, and I further agree that it is dangerous to misrepresent ourselves as generally agreeable to others' heresies. I suppose an interesting example comes from Ambrose's advice to Augustine's mother in the Confessions. Ambrose advises that Augustine needs to see the error of Manicheanism for himself and thus will not attempt to disprove it! We may do serious damage if we attempt to remove a harmful theory without properly showing why it is harmful (and perhaps that person is meant to see the issue for herself). So, I do mince words and seek to smooth things over & all the time I wonder if I am doing the wrong thing. I think it's largely due to the fact that these conversations take a considerable amount of time (and few care to give up their time for such an exercise).

    I say all that for a giant "I don't know" - I'm trying to figure it out and learn from my mistakes. We need to make people feel uncomfortable, but what times is that appropriate?

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  4. I suppose I would have to say that a rather large element I have left undiscussed is the concept, popular among nineteenth century Anglo-Catholicism, of the necessity of reserve in communicating any sort of theological knowledge to those who are unprepared.

    In other words, we sometimes have to gauge what sort of intellectual and, especially, moral state our audience is in before passing along to them things which they might not be prepared to here. This idea tends to be controversial, though, and I often show a good deal of "reserve" towards speaking about it publicly.

    Either way, it is an attempt to recover a discipline which started in the fourth century, when large numbers of the Roman Imperial public started attending church more often. There had to be a distinction made, sometimes at least, between publicly proclaimed doctrines and those doctrines only taught to those "inside."

    Occasionally, I think we need to recover this sort of mode of thinking. As one evangelical preacher said in my hearing (I forgot who), we need to learn how to tell parables to the public and give teaching to the Church.

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  5. I think the danger that is often inherent in speaking about faith is the issue of authority. We live in a world where postmodernism reigns. Who are you to say anything, especially if it contradicts or hurts me? Who gave you the right to say that? Your interpretation sucks, hence it is false.

    I am nearly convinced that the entirety of the problems of religion in the public sphere have to do with authority. For indeed, how can you argue something that has been said by God?

    I do have to admit that I edit constantly when speaking to people about faith. I will never tell my great aunt (who is a nun) that I am an atheist. I'll say that I'm just not that into religion or something. Also, I won't tell somebody their grandma is worm food, but that I am just not convinced that what other people say is true.

    HOWEVER, I do not believe that "editing" is necessarily a bad thing. As an aspiring sociologist, I think that social norms and editing are an integral part to a peaceful existence. If you watch "The Invention of Lying," you'll see just how unpalatable a world can be where nobody lies.

    I love how you portray the difficulties of telling people you're in Div School, though. I feel that.

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  6. @Alfredo

    I would agree that authority is a huge issue. I tend to think we all need to get over, though, this paranoia about contradicting each other. Believe it or not, it is possible to live with each other while disagreeing (I'm largely pontificating against an imaginary enemy, not you, considering we seem to get along fine).

    And, yes, the whole point of making any sort of appeal to Scripture is that it becomes a point which cannot be argued against, unless you are there to offer another interpretation. YET, that is the whole point. There is rarely any sort of totally incontrovertible point when we are dealing with a Scriptural religion in the larger public sphere. Even those within your own camp are prepared to offer a differing interpretation (cf. the various reactions to Anne Rice's recent public statements as a contemporary example, or the decades long public battles in the fourth century on the nature of God as an ancient example).

    I often find it strange when people talk about how God gets invoked in the public square and suddenly all discussion stops. I don't think that's true. The most divisive social issues of our time (e.g. abortion and same-sex marriage) have religious defenders and, even, Christian defenders on both sides. The same could go for issues on immigration, war, etc.

    I suppose I would wonder where God gets invoked and all discussion does stop. I would welcome an example, and I imagine that you could think of one, so I look forward to hearing it (I may just not have my ears open to the same things as you).

    Further in this train of thought, I tend to think that the history of theology is a history of people arguing with God and arguing with each other about what God is saying. In a related sort of idea, there is a quote (the author of whom I cannot remember) which says that "Theology is that science wherein the Church has attempted for 2000 years to protect itself against the Bible."

    Finally, I agree that editing is not necessarily a bad thing. On issues of politics, for example, it is often better to feign ignorance of an issue or give a vague answer than chime in with a clear opinion. I tend to think, though, that we need to find some way of honestly speaking about our lack of faith (our strong faith) so that we are not constantly giving false impressions to others for no other purpose than to protect ourselves and avoid conflict (as usual, I direct this statement at myself first).

    But, I'm rambling.

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