11. The man in the middle
(Post 11 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
1:00 pm EDT
I’ve always been ambivalent about clergy. The automatic grant of deference, not to mention their complicity in reinforcing belief in things I consider false (and knowing that sometimes they do, too), bothered me even as a kid. But for the last 20 years or so, I’ve spent a lot of time paying attention to what they do so I can understand what human needs are being met. There’s the need for an authority and for easy answers and all the rest, of course, but something else has begun to gel.
I saw this thing at work as I sat last December with my mom, aunt, and uncle, surrounded by boxes, as my entirely secular Mom prepared to leave her St. Louis home of 22 years to move to Atlanta. As we sat and talked about nothing, we noticed a man crossing the drive from the UCC church next door. It was the minister.
Though Mom was not a parishioner of his, they’d been very friendly neighbors, and he knew she was leaving that day. He knocked and entered, filling the room with a warm, magnetic personality. He was in the right profession.
He greeted my mom, and the introductions began. “Pastor Greg, this is my sister Madeline Denning and her husband Ben.”
The minister then did something I’ve seen countless times: “Denning, Denning — are you by any chance related to Herb Denning over in St. Charles? He attended my dad’s church for many years, wonderful man.” They thought a minute, said no, they didn’t think so.
“And this is my son Dale from Atlanta.”
“Hello Dale! Good to meet you. I love Atlanta — been there many times, especially up in the north end around Marietta. My brother and his wife are there.” When I replied that, sure enough, Marietta is not too far from me, he grinned broadly. “Wonderful place, so many trees. Just a forest everywhere you go.”
And we sat down, connected.
He told my mom how much she would be missed, remembered this or that conversation they had had, anecdote anecdote, told her he was certain she’d make many friends in Atlanta. “You’re just one of those people who draws other people to them,” he said, knowing the type well.
We chatted for a while longer, then he asked if he could offer a prayer. It was short and simple: Please protect Carol as she moves into this new phase of her life, watch over her, etc. He hugged her, shook hands with the rest of us, and was on his way.
It was nice, and Mom appreciated it very much.
I’ve quoted a line from Jennifer Hecht several times in this blog — that we live in a meaning-rupture because we are human and the universe is not. It remains one of the most insightful and eye-opening quotes I’ve ever seen. The minister was putting a human face on the universe at a challenging time for my mom, a time when it’s not emotionally convenient to live in a faceless universe.
As humanism continues to work toward building completely satisfying human community without gods, this is yet another lesson from the other side of the aisle that’s worth paying attention to.
10. The common word in blog names that’s likely to keep me from reading the blog
(Post 10 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
12:30 pm EDT
Musings. The word is musings. (Sorry.)
9. The best first date
(Post 9 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
Noon EDT
I’ve had a lot of people ask me for the best intro to freethought. It depends on the person, of course. Lamont’s The Philosophy of Humanism was a big part of my welcome basket, but that isn’t for everyone. Same with many others.
I know something that IS for everyone: Julia Sweeney’s incredible one-woman show Letting Go of God. There is simply nothing like it that I’ve seen — a funny, personal, accessible walk through a complicated, touchy topic from the perspective of a hilarious but otherwise normal person.
Here are the first 15 minutes:
[Link]
No matter who or what you are, if you haven’t seen it yet, see it. Available on Amazon and Netflix.
8. The announcement
(Post 8 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
11:30 am EDT
When I first proposed writing Parenting Beyond Belief, I couldn’t believe it didn’t already exist. Now I’ve been invited to write another book that I can’t believe has not been written yet: Atheism for Dummies.
There were already Dummies books for each of the major and several minor religions, as well as some weirdly specific titles like Lost Books of the Bible for Dummies. Now publisher Wiley & Sons has decided it’s time to get a playful-but-instructive popular intro to atheism on the market. I’m grateful to Hemant Mehta for pointing them my way and to Wiley for agreeing with him.
The format is fun, the process fascinating, and the timeline extremely tight — should be on the shelf in March. In the meantime, I look forward to the knee-slapping comments about the title from friends on all sides. Let the games begin!
7. Hey…it’s your funeral
(Post 7 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
11:00 am EDT
Speaking of death — if you are anything but conventionally religious, and you love your family in the least, write down your funeral plans in detail.
I know what you’re saying — “Hey, what do I care, I’ll be dead and gone!” This is not about you. You will indeed be as demised as a Norwegian Blue. And it’s not even about sending a “message to the world” about dying without illusions. It’s about the loved ones you’ll leave behind.
When a person with a relatively conventional religious identity dies, there are plenty of decisions to be made by the family. But they are largely a matter of coloring within existing lines — which hymns will be sung, which Bible verses will be said, which church cemetery will receive the remains. If you diverge from a conventional identity and have not made your wishes known, your death can leave your family utterly without lines and uncertain even of which colors to reach for. They want to honor your wishes, but they don’t know how, and you will have thrown them into this situation in the midst of their grief at your loss. Guilt and confusion are not helpful additives to grief.
So right now, this week, even if you aren’t sure what you want, slap something together. Burn some songs on a CD, write down a few instructions, print out some nice readings, and put them where they can be easily found. THEN, once this basic emotional safety net is in place, refine and adjust it until you’ve created the kind of event you’d like to have. They will be grateful for it.
(Have you donated a few coppers to SSA yet? That’s what this is all about. The sidebar widget awaits.)
6. Dying
(Post 6 of 33 in my 16-hour shift for the Secular Student Alliance Blogathon.)
10:30 am EDT
Several friends have asked that I address talking to kids about death. This is an enormous topic, but I’ll touch on some key points.
I’ve received several emails over the years that are variations on this theme: A secular parent tells me his or her child, often age 4-5, sometimes older, is about to lose an especially beloved grandparent, and “I’m not sure how to handle it — we’ve never really talked about death.”
Step 1. Build a time machine.
Okay, that’s not helpful, unless you have Steve Hawking and John Frink as Facebook friends. But ideally you will have prepared your kids for years by talking about death in natural, unforced ways, from the dead bird in the backyard to walks in cemeteries to books (like Charlotte’s Web) and movies (like Tuck Everlasting). Call it mortality literacy.
Despite popular wisdom, kids are often better able than adults to handle the discussion, in part because their grasp of death is not yet fully concrete. The facts that death is universal (i.e. applies to every living thing) and final are realizations that only gradually take hold. The window before they do is an opportunity to ease your child forward in coming to grips with our most difficult reality.
When talking about comforting a grieving child, mainstream grief experts generally discuss religious consolations in a slightly cursory and sometimes even embarrassed way. After offering solid, research-based suggestions, they typically tack on a coda, like, “Depending on your family’s religious tradition, you may wish to explain a person’s death to your children in terms of God’s will or an afterlife. But be aware that such statements as ‘she went to be with Jesus’ can lead to feelings of confusion and abandonment, while ‘God took her to be with him’ can cause feelings of anger followed by guilt and fear.’” Worst of all is any suggestion that the child should NOT be sad (“You should be happy! She’s with Jesus now”) which invalidates the child’s natural grief. Bad thing.
I remember well-meaning people saying that to me when my dad died. I was 13, and I wanted to kill them. (I didn’t do it.)
Some general guidelines for helping kids deal with the loss of a loved one:
Be honest. Don’t pretend that it isn’t one of the most difficult events of their lives. Validate their pain and grief. Tell the child it is not just “okay” to be sad, it’s good. The sadness honors the person who died, showing that she loved her very much, and expresses real feelings.
Share your own emotions. Keeping a stiff upper lip in front of the kids is no help whatsoever for a grieving child. Let her know that you are grieving too—or better yet, show it.
Be patient. There’s no healthy or effective way to rush a grief process.
Listen. Invite the child to share what she is feeling if she wants to. If not, respect her silence.
Reassure. You can’t bring back the deceased person or pretend he or she is somewhere else. But you can and should do everything possible to make the child feel personally safe, loved, and cared for.
Keep the loved one alive in memory. The sudden absence of someone who died is the most painful part of it. Avoiding the person’s name or not talking about him/her can make that sense of absence much worse. Share memories of the person and use her name. If tears come, remember that the goal is not to avoid sadness, but to help the child work through the intense grief. Let her be the one to tell you if a conversation is too painful.
Great resource: Maria Trozzi’s Talking With Children About Loss.
There’s more, but I’m out of time! Donate to SSA in the sidebar!