Ruminations on Death and the Afterlife II

To classify once again, there are two versions of the afterlife and each has its legion of adherents, though one side is certainly more fanatical than the other. The more science progresses, the more we discern that we know less and less about more and more. Therefore, a mind with a scientific bend naturally feels despondent when it comes to the inevitable conclusion that a lifetime is not going to be enough to unravel the secrets and marvel at the wonders of the universe. When I think about it, I can chart my own progress over the past decade of my life and frankly be amused by how little I knew then, compared to what i know now. To realize that I would never know it all is like reading a gripping mystery novel, only to find that the last chapter is missing. Therefore, some scientists, deists and agnostics nurture a tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, all will be revealed in the afterlife. This dream of an afterlife is certainly non-threatening; however, the same cannot be said of the rival group.

The second group is dominated by those who just can't bear the fact that the party will go on long after they have been kicked out. This has led to the fantastic albeit ludicrous creation of what we have come to know as Heaven. Make no mistake; heaven has been a creation of subpar, inferior, and illiterate intellects. Not content with the party that is going on, these minds devised the idea of an after party; one which is exclusive and exclusionary. Instead of the red velvet rope, there are the pearly gates and you can only gain entrance if your name is on the VIP list held by St. Peter, according to one version. Once you gain access, you are promised an eternity of floating on clouds, listening to harp music, or, as another version promises, a private room with seventy two virgin groupies. Note: this incentive is only for men as the women who adhere to this faith are tempted by the promise that they will get their husbands back in the afterlife-For Eternity.  (No points for guessing which gender’s idea of heaven this is).

Now as you have undoubtedly inferred, there is an inherent problem with this arrangement. How can heaven maintain its status as the best party in town if everyone can die and gain access? Therefore, there needs to be a place where the teeming mass of humanity one doesn’t know personally, agree with, understand, or simply dislikes, can go. And voila, we have Hell. Numerous leaders and theologians, from Tertullian, to Augustine, from St. Anthony Mary Claret to the Catholic Truth Society have expressly decreed that one of the great pleasures of heaven would be to watch and relish the torments of the damned, in hell. Martin Luther, when asked if those who have made it to heaven would grieve to see their loved ones suffer in hell answered, “Not in the least”. Thomas Aquinas, scholar, philosopher and Doctor Universalis from the 13^th century went so far as to proclaim that the saints in heaven “are allowed to see perfectly the sufferings of the damned, so that they may be urged the more to praise God”. Does this heaven sound like the promise of a compassionate and benevolent God or the malevolent sadism of petty primates?

What further proof is required that heaven and hell are creations of Man. Dante Alighieri, who has earned his place in History by quite literally, being the architect of Hell, would scarcely have believed that his imaginative and allegorical poem would one day become dogma. Perhaps he knew what was to come as he seemed to have his tongue firmly in cheek when he titled the poem, ‘Comedia’ (The ‘Divine’ was added later by Boccaccio, a fellow poet and eminent Renaissance humanist). Yet, the church took his ruminations to the territory of torture. Consider this example: all human beings have been condemned by the original sin of Adam and Eve and according to the Catholic Church, only a baptized soul can be freed of this peccatum originale and find acceptance in Heaven. But what of the numerous infants who were still born or who died in infancy? They committed no personal sins; however, they are doomed because of the Original sin (Praise the Lord).  The church declared that they will be sent to ‘Limbo’; a direct rip-off from Dante’s poem. For centuries, parents of still born children, found some measure of solace in the fact that their children are in Limbo, until, UNTIL, his holiness, Pope Benedict in 2007 declared that Limbo is not a real place and that the doctrine was false. Where did the souls of those infants go? To us, perhaps, this might not seem like a pressing question or complaint, but there are millions of faithful parents who were only able to hold back their grief with the aid of the spurious belief, endorsed by their own church, that their children are at the edges of heaven. To close the doors of this fantasy called Limbo, in the face of true believers is an unpardonable act of cruelty, tantamount to mental torture. I doubt Dante would have ever taken pen to paper if he had any inkling of the consequences.

There are volumes that can be written on this particular subject but the effort is taxing, infuriating, and I am rather hungry for a sandwich. I shall lay this post to rest for the moment and pick it up if I find some interesting comments of which my blog is still a virgin. I now turn my attention to ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’. (The Ark that holds the shards of the ten commandments, supposedly written by the finger of GOD, which Moses smashed as soon as he climbed down from Mount Sinai). You would think that Moses would have been a little less impetuous with an artifact of such immense value. Almost makes me wonder if Moses wasn’t carving those tablets himself up on the mount and realized soon enough that they would not hold to any close scrutiny, thereby smashing them and blaming it on the children of Israel. It’s also worth noting that one of the most important commandments was, ‘Thou shall not kill’ and Moses on climbing down, quite to the contrary, commands his loyalists to put to the sword, their neighbors and brothers, who had bowed down to the Golden Calf. But I digress, the sandwich awaits.

Ruminations on Death and the Afterlife

I have an intermittent pain in my elbow joint. I realize that instead of fading away with time, it is going to become chronic. No doubt, the older we get, the more pronounced the defects and deficiencies in our frame become. Ergo, I fail to understand why we as a species, strive to cling harder to life as the years roll by.

There are two kinds of people in this world. The first, talk of dying young, perhaps out of a narcissistic and vainglorious desire of emulating an icon who commercialized the teenage angst that most of us struggle through, and then ate a bullet or a potent combination of chemicals, thereby, dying young. Though they would never admit it, their prime motivation is a sado-masochistic fantasy that they will leave behind others to mourn, suffer and weep for them. This category also includes those who are quite simply terrified of reaching a feeble and decrepit age when you need help even to wipe your own arse (personally, I fall in this classification). It is the rationale of the second category that I find so hard to comprehend. Why would you aspire to reach a grand old age, all the while being encumbered by a debilitating and rapidly deteriorating body?

I refuse to accept that homo sapiens in their present state are the pinnacle of evolution. As the great Christopher Hitchens so succinctly puts it, " Our prefrontal lobes are too small, our adrenal glands are too big and our reproductive organs apparently designed by committee". Undoubtedly, the knowledge that this short life is all we have has been anathema to the majority of our species and hence we have the concept of the afterlife, which I shall write about in my next post.

Why write a blog?

Because I can. Because it is an outlet, a release, just like status updates or tweets or 'the blow my brains out' memes. The internet has provided us with a gigantic garbage disposer that compacts and recycles the cumulative cognitive surplus that our generation is blessed (or cursed) with, and ensures that every thought, feeling or singularly unremarkable and humdrum events of our pathetic lives can be broadcast, nay, inflicted upon the world by the lightest click of a button. A decade ago, the choices this cognitive surplus provided us with were to kill our intellect, slowly and painfully in front of the telly-the poison of choice being the sitcom- or to indulge in a hobby which, as trivial as it might be, still taught some valuable principles. But the internet has brought us centerstage with a population of billions to tease or torture or bore to death. Now I could've chosen 'lolcats' as my weapon of mass destruction of brain cells or created a troll face meme, or even uploaded and forwarded sleazy mms's. Unfortunately, I just can't bring myself to it. The internet is for pornography, and not just sexual. It is the pornographic equivalent of baring yourself and your libidinous Id which honestly, has been repressed for a reason. But the internet has unleashed the Id to violently vomit all that was suppressed. Now to be clear, I abhor any form of the censor, and even though it pains me to quote another on my very first blog post, I must admit that I couldn't have done better than the words attributed to the indomitable Voltaire,

"I disapprove of what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it."

However, to be frank, I tire of this defense. I have read enough bile, hyperbole, vitriol and grandiose descriptions of mundane events from my fellow mammals that finally, the voice in my head said, "Why should I not partake in this orgy?" I have suppressed my gag reflex for far too long and it is my turn to hurl. Therefore I shall rave and rant and agree to disagree, shock and bore, amuse and infuriate and incite and inspire (who am I kidding) simply because I can. By the lightest click of a button that promises to publish.