I recently attended a funeral; it was a heartbreakingly sad event, even though it all went off as well as those things can. It was well attended, the priest spoke with deep knowledge of the deceased, and the family put together a beautiful tribute. Still, sad.
But it got me thinking about grief, and the importance of religion in people’s lives – and what the absence of that might mean. When we arrived at the funeral, it really came home that David was no longer with us. I don’t think that i was the only one who felt like that. The enormity of that realisation – someone who you’ve know for 20 years no longer being there – is crushing.
We need a mechanism to deal with that realisation, and, I think, organised religion is an effective way of helping people to do that. I’m conscious that I’m probably rehashing some very old sociological ground here, but I think perhaps it has never occurred to me – or at least, not in such proximity.
I used to disagree strongly with a fellow teacher about the role of organised religion and the importance of ceremony and ritual; to me, it seemed to be empty, devoid of meaning and, perhaps, even spirituality. But I was forced to reconsider this point of view after the funeral. There was a peace – one that even I could feel – that seemed to come through the ritual of mass
Of course, that got me thinking a little bit further about what role religion actually plays in all of our lives. I’m deeply interested in social movements and active citizenship – whatever we mean by that – but I think that, like Netball clubs – churches (or, more correctly, religious buildings of almost any denomination) are a fantastic example of people working together collectively. Of course, we can debate about their effectiveness and what they actually achieve, but in the example above – providing a space for people to grieve and say goodbye – it’s hard to dispute their contribution to the public good.