Difference between revisions of "Debate: Are fear of death and sorrow compatible with faith?"

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(Created page with 'Ok, the question is simple. There are many believers of many different faiths in this world, and they all, more or less, believe in some sort of "afterlife". With this in mind, i…')
 
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(William Shakespeare, ''Hamlet'', Act III, scene 1)
 
(William Shakespeare, ''Hamlet'', Act III, scene 1)
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[[category:Conservapedia Debates]]

Revision as of 16:43, August 20, 2010

Ok, the question is simple. There are many believers of many different faiths in this world, and they all, more or less, believe in some sort of "afterlife". With this in mind, is the faith in an afterlife compatible with the grief that we often feel when someone dear to us dies, or with the fear that most of us feel when thinking about dying? Wouldn't happiness be a more suitable emotion, for instance, when someone who we loved - and who was a virtuous person in life - dies? Shouldn't we be eager to die, if we have a clear conscience? Does our attitude towards death show that we doubt the existence of an afterlife, or is it acceptable and justifiable even from a religious point of view?

Express your ideas, please :)

Yes, they are compatible

No, they are not compatible




...and to inspire you, here is the famous soliloquy of Hamlet, by Shakespeare, which also deals with this issue :)


To be or not to be– that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep
No more – and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

(William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene 1)