I'm not really interested in theology, so I don't delve much into religion. But this once, I'll stray.
I was upset, at times, during my grandmother's funeral this weekend. She was the picture of Midwestern piety and my now-widowed grandfather the Old Testament patriarch, so whenever I'm up there I try to hold my breath and pretend I'm not a secularist. It's hard.
It was hard during the service. What got to me were all the readings picked by the pastor, sweeping verses of God's saving us from the tumult of life, us earning our final respite in glory after a long life of hard work. I just don't understand this Christian masochism. Granted, I hope my grandmother is in this wonderful place, but truly it's not as important to me to as remembering her life. If you knew her you know she worked hard, but she was serving, not suffering.
I'm a recovering cynic, though still mainly mired in it. But despite the fact that life is hard and littered with setbacks, I think it's a good thing. I don't understand people who harp about the sanctity of life only to sit around bemoaning its difficulty and waiting for its conclusion. Surely if there is a heaven, it's a nice break from the crap of life, but I wasn't in the mood to hear old verses about the awfulness of life. I just wanted to remember how she had a hard time remembering my name sometimes, but made me breakfast anyway.