Should You Object To Cremation?

[idiosyncrasy]

Some people feel that cremation—that is, the reduction of a corpse to ashes by burning—dishonors the body and the memory of the dead person. ‘It is of profane origin,’ they reason, ‘and thus should be shunned by those who profess to worship God.’ Others believe that cremation is a perfectly acceptable and dignified way of disposing of human remains. How do you feel about this matter?

[snags]

At the risk of sounding fussy, I'd prefer to be dead.

[FredPuli43]

snags, you and Jeremy Bentham ! His body was treated by some taxidermist and his preserved remains are still in a college of London University, his head being kept, oddly, in a box and separate. Nothing new, is there?

[idiosyncrasy]

Sandy@
No it is not from a religious text. I asked because of a question posed by Naomi regarding the words from a funeral ceremony so I just wondered. I have attended cremations and there has been no religious ceremony. Just a talk.

[sandyRoe]

I suppose The Watchtower Online isn't strictly a religious text.

[marje]

I want to be cremated, don't like the thought of being buried even though I won't know a thing about it! I also want Who Wants To Live Forever and Another One Bites The Dust to be played.

[Baldric]

idiosyncrasy,
It's lifted word for word from "The Watchtower Online", see my link on previous page

[naomi24]

idiosyncrasy, the funeral I attended yesterday was a cremation conducted by an Anglican priest and highly religious - nothing but one hymn, a short eulogy, and incessant prayers. As has been said, funerals can be whatever you want them to be. Incidentally, at this one the coffin didn't disappear through a hatch, or behind curtains. It remained where it was until everyone had left the chapel.

[Baldric]

Just in case you deny it.


http://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/102009085

[FredPuli43]

You could always be cremated and exit to "Give Me Fire", I suppose.

Didn't know that some cremation services had the congregation leave without the coffin disappearing in their presence. That's certainly an improvement.

[WELSHYORKIE]

//shunned by those who profess to worship God// - so why does the burial service have the words 'ashes to ashes dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life,'? Surely these are the words of the church themselves?

[idiosyncrasy]

Depends on what you consider a religious text. Marvellous what you can find on the web.

[Jubz]

I want to be cremated it is a personal choice. All the cremation services I have attended for family, the curtain has remained open and the coffin remains there until everybody has left. This is something we have always asked to happen and no one has denied this request.

[naomi24]

idiosyncrasy //Depends on what you consider a religious text. Marvellous what you can find on the web. //

Who are you talking to?

[idiosyncrasy]

Sorry Naomi.
It was in reply to Sandyroe and Baldric.

[LazyGun]

Interesting though isn't it, Baldrics point? A quick google of the OP gives references to the question asked exactly as phrased in the OP. those questions asked in 2011 and 2012.

And as Baldric also pointed out- it is lifted, word for word, from JW online.

I have never met with or heard anyone who "reasons that cremation is profane", or who determine that it is " a practice to be shunned by those who profess to worship god".

I am curious though- are you a JW, idiosyncrasy?

As for me - Cremation baby, all the way. No way am I coming back in the coming zombie apocalypse.....

[doctordb]

I'm all for it.

I wish to float out to sea on a burning galleon lit by thousands of flaming arrows.

[modeller]

/
//have attended cremations and there has been no religious ceremony//

There is no connection with cremation the ceremony or none, can be what you like, whatever happens to the remains.

[jomifl]

LG, The great god Coincidence works in mysterious ways etc. Isn't it marvelous that just when a sign was needed a believer spontaneously and independantly produces the same text as appeared in watchtower. Monkeys and typewriters don't come into it. It is truly a modern miracle, I am so impressed. Off to the bookies first thing tomorrow.

[sandyRoe]

This put me off any thought of cremation. I'm afraid I might wake while it's going on.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of

[sandyRoe]

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

I missed out the end of it.