"In the Secular Age, there is no God; try to save yourself through love."
I've been thinking about this quote recently. Actually, I've been thinking about a lot of things recently; it's been a whirlwind month for my mind. And I suppose over the course of the month, my mind has organized my various preoccupied thoughts into two intertwining themes: Death, and Love.
In the last several months, 3 people I've know have died. They weren't people I was close to, but two of them at least were people who took a little of the color of the world with them as they left.
Death for us normally is something we don't really have to deal with. It's something that's always present, but it's not something that really affects us directly. Aside from the occasional pestering insects we kill without a second thought, death is far removed from our minds. And when it isn't far from our minds, it tends to be overpowering. I think we, as modern humans, have become insulated from the constancy, the naturalness, of death. Before, in earlier times, death, especially for humans, was more rampant. People died, all the time. There was no expectation of a long and happy life, there was life while it lasted. And although people perhaps desired a long and happy life, the sheer consistency of death must have assured a more tempered view of survival. In previous times, in Europe, it was considered bad luck to name a child before it reached the age of two, because the chances of it surviving that long were not great. In fact, that's part of why it's so hard to pinpoint when famous people were born, and the word "circa" is used for births whereas we have a (more) finite date for the death; if your first child named Christopher/Christine died before the age of two, you, as the parents, simply named your next child Christopher/Christine. This makes perfect sense, since at the time, children didn't enjoy their current status as pure beings, better than the failings learned and programmed into adults; they were considered less than human, stunted and unable to reason effectively as humans (adults) did. It's the same way we consider larvae in cocoons related to, but not, butterflies. It's an effective way to insulate yourself from the loss of a child, regardless of how much you may care for the child. In criminal psychology, it's referred to as objectification; it's when a person ceases to be a person and is considered an object. But, all of this only refers to child mortality. Adult mortality was more prevalent as well, though perhaps at a lower rate than child mortality. Average life expectancy is a very concise way of looking at it. Point being, death was not a remote concept, it was a constant with which must needs be dealt.
My initial reaction to dealing with so much death (from both the three recent deaths, and the thought paths which led me to think about the prevalence of death in earlier times) was one of horror. I was aghast at how much death must have surrounded people on a regular basis. Even without humans dying, people tended, much more than today, to butcher their own animals. Nowadays we buy meat packaged and chilled; in earlier times the acquisition of meat was more visceral and real. But, I soon realized that I could not remain horrified forever, and neither could the people who lived through earlier times. I think death must have created a more somber approach to dying and loss; less horror, more determination. Also, surrounded by so much death, my original thought was that death must have become more trivial, or at least the feelings one human had for another were more trivial. But I wasn't convinced by this answer for more than a few heartbeats. Reading past accounts, it's apparent people still cared and loved as we do, though perhaps they were more practiced at letting go. I doubt it really ever became easier however. My conclusion is that life, being more fragile, becomes more precious rather than more trivial. To "have not" makes you appreciate more the things you do "have;" health, life, etc.
This is where the theme of love enters. With the fragility of life, so much more susceptable to death because things like germs, nutrition, health, weather, and so on were less understood, the preciousness of life must have been given more weight than we currently attribute it. I suspect I'm idolizing the concept a bit, but imagine dealing daily with the uncertainty of tomorrow, of living next week. Naturally I don't assume humans from earlier times thought about their demise constantly, but the appreciation for life must have been something that carried over into daily routine. I'm reminded of hunter/gatherers thanking their prey for the prey's sacrifice of life to the hunter. When was the last time you thanked the cow or chicken for giving its life for your own? Relationships must have been more precious as well. Even things such as arranged marriages must have had more connection than they currently enjoy. With less choices in life, especially less social mobility (the ability to better yourself from the lot of your parents) life must have had a higher ratio of "make it work" to "what I want." The modern world is programmed with the idea of "Bigger, Better, Faster" and this mode of thinking permeates our lives. It leaches into our approach to love, our relationships with other people. In a world of programmed obsolescence, our interaction with friends, lovers, and acquaintances must absorb some portion of this mindset. How much effort do you put into maintaining old friendships that aren't convenient? How many lovers have you had? What kinds of judgements have you made about any and all of them; friends, lovers, and acquaintances? How many times have you told yourself, or had someone else tell you, that you'll move on to better things? Who was the one that got away?
The above quote fits here. "In the Secualar Age, there is no God; try to save yourself through love." In former times, religion was more prevalent. Fact. With the uncertainty of everything surrounding a person, our faith was in God, purpose/destiny, instead of laws of thermodynamics, gravity, and the like; no concept of germs, bacteria, viruses. Point being, religion was less iffy and more concrete necessarily because of so much uncertainty in other aspects of life. A person believed... they didn't wonder if. There was no secularism, a world independent of a deity, with which to compete, to try to fit and merge into a religious view of the world. Even in the Enlightenment, the idea of a clockwork universe arose. There was less wonder of "is there a God" than wonder "why wasn't my prayer/offering answered."
Existentialism, in terms, is the belief that the responsibility of our living our life is our own. We decide what in life is worth living for. This doesn't rule out God, but it doesn't provide for his existence either. He may be there, or he may not, the task of living your life is up to you yourself. If you choose to life your life according to what you believe to be God's plan, you must first determine for yourself that there is a God, and then determine how to live your life in accordance; the burden of sin, misdeeds, and righteousness is yours to determine, again, in accordance with what you believe God desires of you... at least until Judgement Day, when you find out how close to right you were. And, conversely, if God is not there, then the responsibility of living your life is entirely up to you. I wonder, on my deathbed, as I'm lying and waiting to die, if I will be reconciled with the life I lived. If I die tomorrow, I will die full of regrets. If two months from now, how many of those regrets will remain? Will I be living a fuller life by then, and thus be more ready to pass through the veil of death into the unknown. (I know the religious faithful may take issue with this, but claiming to "know" what is beyond bodily death is actually impossible. You don't "know" in the empirical sense of the word, that is, with evidence. You have your strong conviction, your faith, that you know what will happen, just as I have my faith the sun will rise tomorrow. I believe it so true it might as well be true, but I cannot show you proof of why it will rise tomorrow, only tell you the likelihood based on precedence) And if I die 60 years from now, how many of those regrets of a life not well-lived will I have crossed off the list?
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