Belief and Unbelief On death, and the fear thereof

Recently Harvard Magazine carried the confession of faith of an international economist, Emile Benoit, entitled “Human Survival and the Fear of Death.” I quote the astonishing conclusion:

One final, personal observation, relating to matters of faith rather than observation or logic: It seems significant somehow that, in the one small corner of the universe that we inhabit, the universe has developed a capacity to know itself, to symbolize itself in art, and to celebrate itself in collective worship. It is hard to believe that this has happened by sheer accident, through the random collision of atoms in space. Rather, it seems to reflect some purpose of an in-dwelling spiritual force, whose existence we can at times intuitively sense, but whose characteristics remain shrouded in mystery. . . . This spiritual force seems to appeal to our loyalty to help defend and preserve the continued existence of knowing, feeling, and caring, which constitute the heart of the human experience, and the loss of which is what men fear in dying. To have it totally disappear, not just for myself, but for others like myself who might exist in future, and to have this happen as a result of our own blindness and inflexibility, would seem to me the very essence of tragedy. And it is by participating in a worldwide movement to prevent this tragedy from occurring that we can best transcend our fear of the small tragedies represented by our individual deaths.

About the Author

Michael Novak

Michael Novak was a Catholic philosopher, journalist, novelist, and diplomat.

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Recently Harvard Magazine carried the confession of faith of an international economist, Emile Benoit, entitled “Human Survival and the Fear of Death.” I quote the astonishing conclusion:

One final, personal observation, relating to matters of faith rather than observation or logic: It seems significant somehow that, in the one small corner of the universe that we inhabit, the universe has developed a capacity to know itself, to symbolize itself in art, and to celebrate itself in collective worship. It is hard to believe that this has happened by sheer accident, through the random collision of atoms in space. Rather, it seems to reflect some purpose of an in-dwelling spiritual force, whose existence we can at times intuitively sense, but whose characteristics remain shrouded in mystery. . . . This spiritual force seems to appeal to our loyalty to help defend and preserve the continued existence of knowing, feeling, and caring, which constitute the heart of the human experience, and the loss of which is what men fear in dying. To have it totally disappear, not just for myself, but for others like myself who might exist in future, and to have this happen as a result of our own blindness and inflexibility, would seem to me the very essence of tragedy. And it is by participating in a worldwide movement to prevent this tragedy from occurring that we can best transcend our fear of the small tragedies represented by our individual deaths.