After becoming an atheist, one thing that troubled me was how do we comfort the bereaved? Here's how Robert G. Ingersoll, known as The Great Agnostic," handled that.

　

　　In a remote corner of the Congressional Cemetery at Washington, a small
　　group of people with uncovered heads were ranged around a newly-opened
　　grave.　They included Detective and Mrs. George O. Miller and family and
　　friends, who had gathered to witness the burial of the former's bright
　　little son Harry.　As the casket rested upon the trestles there was a
　　painful pause, broken only by the mother's sobs, until the undertaker
　　advanced toward a stout, florid-complexioned gentleman in the party and
　　whispered to him, the words being inaudible to the lookers-on.　This
　　gentleman was Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, a friend of the Millers, who had
　　attended the funeral--at their request.　He shook his head when the
　　undertaker first addressed him, and then said suddenly, "Does Mrs.
　　Miller desire it?" The undertaker gave an affirmative nod.　Mr. Miller
　　looked appealingly toward the distinguished orator, and then Colonel
　　Ingersoll advanced to the side of the grave, made a motion denoting a
　　desire for silence, and, in a voice of exquisite cadence, delivered one
　　of his characteristic eulogies for the dead.

　　The scene was intensely dramatic.　A fine drizzling rain was falling,
　　and every head was bent, and every ear turned to catch the impassioned
　　words of eloquence and hope that fell from the lips of the famed orator.
　　Colonel Ingersoll was unprotected by either hat or umbrella. His
　　invocation thrilled his hearers with awe, each eye that had previously
　　been bedimmed with tears brightening, and sobs becoming hushed.　The
　　colonel said:


　　My Friends: I know how vain it is to gild a grief with words, and yet I
　　wish to take from every grave its fear.　Here in this world, where life
　　and death are equal kings, all should be brave enough to meet what all
　　have met.　The future has been filled with fear, stained and polluted by
　　the heartless past.　From the wondrous tree of life the buds and
　　blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and in the common bed of earth
　　patriarchs and babes sleep side by side. Why should we fear that which
　　will come to all that is?　We cannot tell.　We do not know which is the
　　greatest blessing, life or death. We cannot say that death is not good.
　　We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life or the door of
　　another, or whether the night here is not somewhere else a dawn.
　　Neither can we tell which is the more fortunate, the child dying in its
　　mother's arms before its lips have learned to form a word, or he who
　　journeys all the length of life's uneven road, painfully taking the last
　　slow steps with staff and crutch.　Every cradle asks us "Whence?" and
　　every coffin "Whither?"　The poor barbarian weeping above his dead can
　　answer the question as intelligently and satisfactorily as the robed
　　priest of the most authentic creed.　The tearful ignorance of the one is
　　just as consoling as the learned and unmeaning words of the other.　No
　　man standing where the horizon of a life has touched a grave has any
　　right to prophesy a future filled with pain and tears. It may be that
　　death gives all there is of worth to life.　If those who press and
　　strain against our hearts could never die, perhaps that love would
　　wither from the earth.　Maybe a common faith treads from out the paths
　　between our hearts the weeds of selfishness, and I should rather live
　　and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not.
　　Another life is naught, unless we know and love again the ones who love
　　us here.

　　They who stand with breaking hearts around this little grave need have
　　no fear.　The largest and the nobler faith in all that is, and is to be,
　　tells us that death, even at its worst, is only perfect rest.　We know
　　that through the common wants of life, the needs and duties of each
　　hour, their grief will lessen day by day until at last these graves will
　　be to them a place of rest and peace--almost of joy.　There is for them
　　this consolation: The dead do not suffer. If they live again their
　　lives will surely be as good as ours.　We have no fear; we are all
　　children of the same mother and the same fate awaits us all.　We, too,
　　have our religion, and it is this: "Help for the living, hope for the
　　dead."



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/10/2013 05:56PM by rationalguy.

As an internet ordained "Reverend", I've performed 5 marriages and 2 funerals for friends and family......never once was god, jesus, faith, religion, etc, mentioned.

My services are always about love, period.

If I was asked to include god, jesus, etc....I would decline the request to perform a ceremony.

I delivered the eulogies at the funerals for each of my very devout Mormon parents, who died within a year of each other. Even though I had left the church many years before, my mother insisted that I (the oldest child) give the eulogy for my father. In it I used the word "God" only once, quoting from the Book of Micah.

Mother insisted before she died that she have exactly the same funeral service as Dad, so I gave her eulogy as well, with no mention of Jesus or God.

Here are the two eulogies I gave:

http://packham.n4m.org/father.htm
http://packham.n4m.org/mother.htm

One of my old bosses was an SOB but I loved him dearly. He was an animal lover, vegan, lawyer, smart mouth, atheist -- in no particular order.

Everyone hated him at work, but I was his secretary and was in awe of his fabulous intellect. He always treated me decently and with a lot of respect.

When he died of cancer at age 50, we had a simple but moving send off for him - his ashes were thrown out to sea. No mention of God, or religion. It was just the boat, the water, Glen's ashes, and love of friends and family members.

I read poems about his love for nature and animals. People recounted stories about his love for exotic vacations in Morocco and elsewhere. His girlfriend spoke about his love of cats, big cats, and his generous donations to exotic cat sanctuaries.

Other people made us chuckle - talking about his mean-spirited shenanigans. But inside, we all know that Glen was just a mush ball, despite all his blather.

I remember meeting him outside of work one day, when just a month before he died. He was so goddamned mad that he was going to die! He remained cantankerous to the very last!

I was so very proud of him!

Exceptional! I am greatly moved by the oratory and comments. Richard, spectacularly well done.

When I retire (in six years, but who’s counting?) I’d like to be a chaplain. I think it would be very fulfilling to talk to people who are hurting and encourage them along whatever spiritual path they choose. I used to volunteer with a hospice organization that employed chaplains (some full-time, some part time). I’m pretty sure I could get a theology degree without having to declare my allegiance to any faith, but I wonder if some people would consider me a fraud. I think that as an agnostic, I could do a better job of helping people find what works for them than I ever could as an LDS missionary, but I wonder how many people would see things that way.