The Horror of Death
You can better understand how uncomfortable death is if you look at the reaction of a child. In my household, this discomfort first surfaced with the death of Hamsty. Let me tell you about Hamsty, because his story illustrates a central point about death.
Hamsty, as you might have guessed, was a hamster. I have four children, and at the time of Hamsty's death they were ages 7 (David), 4 (Irena) and 2 (John and Ian). Hamsty was their pet. He lived in a deluxe two-bedroom hamster condominium in the kids' playroom. The kids loved Hamsty -- they would feed him, change his water, watch him, take him out of his cage to play with him and so on.
Hamsty, being a small rodent, had a limited lifespan. One day he got sick. The next day we found him dead. He had died peacefully in his sleep in his upper penthouse sleeping quarters.
The twins were apoplectic once they realized what had happened. This truly surprised me. They ran around the house crying "Hamsty died!" over and over again. Every time they were reminded of it, the chorus would start anew. They fell asleep crying about Hamsty's death, but by the next day they had stabilized.
Far more interesting, however, was Irena's response. Irena loves pets and would have hundreds if we let her. She has a video called "Paws, claws, feathers and fins" that she has watched dozens of times. On this video, kids talk about their pets, show what is necessary to properly care for different kinds of pets, and so on.
PCFF happens to have a segment where a small pet dies. The kids in the video put him in a little box and bury him in the backyard. Irena had seen this segment so many times, and she wanted to bury Hamsty in a similar way.
Irena and I found a small jewelry box. We placed Hamsty gently in the box and put the lid on. She asked if she could pat him, and I took the lid off so she could pat him one last time, which she did very gently. And she seemed fine with it. We found a trowel, and we went out to the backyard and dug a hole. As I was about to put Hamsty in the hole she asked to pat him again. She patted him very gently, and again she seemed fine with it. I put Hamsty in the hole and asked Irena if she wanted to put the dirt back into the hole. She did not, so I did.
Keep in mind that Irena was four years old, and four-year-olds are famous for asking lots of questions. As I was burying Hamsty, she asked me a question: "Can I pat Hamsty tomorrow?"
Me: Well, no, probably not.
Irena: Why not?
Me: Well, usually, once you bury someone you don't dig them back up. We call it respecting the dead.
Irena: Why?
Me: Well, for one thing, a dead body turns back to dust, so there really isn't much to dig back up. Hamsty will turn to dust.
Irena: Why will he turn to dust?
Me: Everything living turns to dust when it dies. Worms will eat him, bacteria will eat him. He will decompose and turn to dust.
Irena: Will it hurt? Won't that hurt?
Me: Well, no, Hamsty is dead, so he won't feel anything.
Irena looked at me for a long time, and you could see the little wheels in her head turning. The next question she asked sort of surprised me though.
Irena: Is grandpa going to die?
Me: Yes, he is. Everyone dies eventually.
Irena: Will worms eat him?
Me: Yes, Grandpa's body will turn to dust.
She paused as the wheels in her head turned some more.
Irena: Are you going to die?
Me: Yes, I will die. But it won't be for a lot of years.
Irena: Will worms eat you?
Me: Yes, they will.
Irena paused for a long time and then asked the obvious next question:
Irena: Will I die?
Me: Yes. Everyone dies.
Irena: And worms will eat me? I don't want to be eaten by worms! I don't want to be buried in the ground!
We talked about it for a long time. We eventually ended up getting in the car and driving to a nearby cemetery so that she could see what happens to people when they die. We looked at many grave markers and tombs, and talked about the different stories that lay before us. For example, we found Hilda Sesom's grave marker. Hilda had lived for just a month before she died in 1928. We talked about what might have happened to Hilda, and how sad her parents would have been.
What you can see here is important. The thought of dying is a remarkably troubling concept. How can it be that a person like Grandpa, who has decades of memories, hundreds of close friends, a large, happy family and seven grandkids who love him dearly -- how can it be that in a moment, all of that is gone? One minute Grandpa is alive. The next minute he is gone, and everything stored in his brain is lost. We are never going to see him again.
That is troubling enough, but it is when Irena turned that logic on herself and realized her own mortality that it became truly uncomfortable for her. What went through her little head is simple. How can it be that I will die? How can it be that my body will turn to dust?
Even at age four she was able to put the pieces together, and she found that thought to be uncomfortable. For many people, the thought is so uncomfortable that it is impossible to imagine.
Many adults never outgrow their childhood fear of death. Because the thought of death is so distressing to some people, it is not surprising that they try to invent a way out. The fairy tale that Christians have invented is called heaven, and they have also formulated the concept of eternal life. And of course, if you are going to be transported to an eternal spa/resort in the sky, there needs to be someone to manage the place and keep the peace. That is where God comes in.
Think about it. Who wants to have eternal life if it is just like life here on earth? In no one's conception of heaven is there murder, rape, incest, burglary, muggings, political backstabbing, office politics, gossip, rumor, PMS, arguments, anger, discontent or disease. Heaven is free of bacterium and mosquitoes and rapists. Somehow, in heaven, everyone is beautiful and everyone is always happy. God is there to cast the bad apples into hell (another invention), and he is also there to keep the peace.
Christians fabricate all of this out of thin air. Their heaven and their hell and their God are completely imaginary. The Christian fabrications are, of course, entirely different from the heaven and God of all other religions, because all of them are imaginary. Egyptians believed something silly involving pyramids and sun gods and so on. Greeks believed in the river Styx and Hades and so on. Muslims believe in their 72 virgins and so on [ref]. It is all gibberish, but people believe in their fantasies quite passionately.
Even grown adults who should know better believe in these fantasies, and will go to incredible lengths to rationalize them. In his book "The Case for Faith," Lee Strobel interviews Norman Geisler, Ph.D. During the interview Dr. Geisler states the following:
"In sum, everything that God created was good. What changed things was the Fall [Adam and Eve eating the apple]. When God was told, in effect, to shove off, he partially did. Romans 8 says all creation was affected -- that includes plant life, human beings, animals, everything. There were fundamental genetic changes; we see, for instance, how life spans rapidly decreased after the Fall. God's plan was not designed to be this way; it's only this way because of sin."
This is the concept of "original sin." The idea is that, by eating the apple, Adam and Eve infuriated God so much that, as punishment, God changed all living things and made them mortal. For some Christians, this is the explanation of why we die rather than living forever.
Why would an adult with a Ph.D. believe such a silly story? Why do Christians and Jews cling to this concept of original sin? Why don't people read the story of Adam and Eve and have a good chuckle, like we do when we read stories about Santa as adults?
It is because original sin tries to explain death, and many adults are incredibly afraid of death. Original sin is one of the Bible's explanations for the fact of life called death. So Christians -- even Christians with Ph.D.s -- cling to it like little children.
We do not die because of Adam and Eve and an apple. We die because we are big, walking chemical reactions. When the chemical reactions cease, we cease. There is no human "soul" mixed in with the chemicals, just like there is no mosquito "soul." When we die, we die.