Dark Brightness

Had to go to a funeral today. David’s memorial was largely about his family and his love of nature, of beauty. He died suddenly, on his bike, in the mountains he loved. His daughters and wife painted his coffin. However, as with many agnostics, I left depressed.

David did much good. He was talented, he loved deeply and was deeply loving. But this was missing:

The Lord builds up Jerusalem;he gathers the outcasts of Israel.

He heals the brokenhearted,

and binds up their wounds.

He determines the number of the stars;

he gives to all of them their names.

Great is our Lord, and abundant in power;

his understanding is beyond measure.

The Lord lifts up the downtrodden;

he casts the wicked to the ground.

Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving;make melody to our God on the lyre.

He covers the heavens with clouds,

prepares rain for the earth,

makes grass grow on the hills.

He gives to the animals their food,

and to the young ravens when they cry.

His delight is not in the strength of the horse,

nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner;

but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,

in those who hope in his steadfast love.

David was agnostic, but culturally he was a child of North England, and loved the music he grew up with, his family and his friends. He knew the hills, but doubted the eternal, God, and the city of God. In the last year of his life he was working and loving.

His death was sudden. He will be missed.

Is my regret an insensitivity, or a projection of my own fears and beliefs, or a reflection of some truth that lives, as do most issues in philosophy or theology, in the post-modern cone of silence?