The Mythology of Death and the Afterlife

The Invention of a Lie?
I guess I don’t have a sophisticated funny bone.

When I watched Ricky Gervais’s "The Invention of Lying" I didn’t find it “explosively funny” as, according to the DVD cover, David Edelstein, the "New York" critic did. I didn’t even find it “a remarkably radical comedy”, as Roger Ebert, critic for the "Chicago Sun-Times" did (There was no indication of which way his thumb was pointing.).

I found it a little sad.

The movie describes a world in which it is impossible to tell a lie until Mark Bellison, a well-meaning schmuck pushed to the limits of his financial, social, and emotional resources, tells a lie.

Thus far, I have no argument with the movie. Well-meaning schmucks in the real world are often pushed to the limit. Arrogant, self-satisfied people are often cruel, unintentionally or otherwise.

But my problem arises with the major “lie” that Mark Bellison tells. His mother is dying and is scared out of her wits by that prospect. To bring her a little comfort and help her ease off “this mortal coil”, Mark tells her a “lie” about the afterlife that makes it so enticing that she dies with a smile on her face.

The doctor and nurse, overhearing Mark’s “lie”, are so impressed that they tell others and Mark becomes a cause célèbre, to whom people come for answers. Of course, Mark is caught in his own “lie” and is unwilling or unable to admit that he lied (which is often the case when we lie), so he continues to lie, making up the answers to these existential questions as he goes along.

The makers of the movie misunderstand, either unintentionally or in the interest of getting laughs and money, the nature of myths. Again, as is so often the case, they find it easy to cast aspersions and questionable humor upon what they do not understand.

A Myth Is Not a Lie
A myth is a sacred story that explains that which cannot be explained otherwise. Myths express truths that are not available to our empirical-scientific cosmology. A myth can neither be verified nor proven false. A myth, like the myth of the afterlife that Gervais and company poke fun at, survive over time and culture because they serve a need and fill a vacuum where, without the myth, only awe and fear can survive.

Contrary to the “Mythbusters” mentality, we do humanity a disservice when we seek to expose or explode our myths without offering anything to take their place. I’m tempted to say that part of what is wrong with our global society in this first decade of the twenty-first century is that our myths have been de-constructed to the point that some of us cling desperately, even fanatically, to ideas and ideals that the world tells us are outmoded and some of us are merely adrift with our fears because we no longer know what to believe.

The Mythology of Death
The mythology surrounding death has brought comfort and peace to millions of people down through the centuries because it addresses our very human fear of what lies behind that dark curtain. It is cruel and callous to snatch that curtain aside and push those who are dying through without any comfort or reassurance. It is equally cruel and callous to withhold that same comfort and reassurance from those who are “left behind”, those who have lost or are losing a loved one.

As a pastor, I have sat by many a bedside of a dying parishioner. I’ve conducted more funerals than I can remember. I have counseled hundreds of grieving widows, widowers, sons, daughters, etc. I’ve held the hands of those who have died with no one else to grieve for them.

Through those experiences, I have come to respect death a great deal. To the elderly person who has lived out their life, the approach of death can be like the anticipation of the visit of a friend. We should no more shield them from the truth of their impending death (indeed, often we only fool ourselves if we think we are fooling them), than we would hold back from telling them that a beloved friend is coming to see them soon.

For those of us who are in the prime of our life, the sure knowledge that we must, in time, die lends an urgency and piquancy to our life that is like salt in a savory stew.

For those of us who still have the courage to believe in a loving God, death is not a daunting prospect but another leg on our journey. There is sadness over those we leave behind. There is sadness for those we leave behind. But sadness is a part of both life and death. Without sadness, we cannot fully appreciate joy. Life, and death, needs contrast in order to be seen clearly.

There may be those who snicker behind their hands at of our stubborn insistence in believing in something, but I suspect that they are also the ones who whistle in the dark as they pass the cemetery because they’re scared and have nothing to believe in to bring them comfort and relief. I think that’s sad.