Death Come To All
Introduction:
Recap:
vv 1-6) Everyone dies!
vv 7-10) In light of death, joy is found in the moment
Since the gods created man
Death they ordained for man,
Life in their hands they hold,
Thou, O Gilgamesh, fill indeed thy belly.
Day and night be thou joyful,
Daily ordain gladness,
Day and night rage and be merry,
Let thy garments be bright,
Thy head purify, wash with water.
Desire thy children which thy hand possesses.
A wife enjoy in thy bosom.
The humanist model does seem a very big pill to swallow. As a representative of a late twentieth-century generation of under-thirties, I am first asked to believe that I am the result of a purely random evolutionary process. The only prerequisites for this process are the presence of matter, time and chance. Because by some strange whim of fate, I and other men are the only physical structures which happen to have been bestowed with a consciousness of their own existence, I am supposed to think of both myself and others as being in some way more valuable than other physical structures such as rabbits, trees or stones, even though in a hundred years time the atoms of my decayed body may well be indistinguishable from theirs. Furthermore the mass of vibrating atoms in my head are supposed to have more ultimate meaning than those in the head of a rabbit.
At the same time I am told that death is the end of the line. In the time-scale of evolution my life is a vapour which soon vanishes. Whatever feelings of justice or injustice I may have in this life, all my strivings, all my greatest decisions, will be ultimately swallowed up in the on-going march of time. In a few million years’ time, a mere drop compared with the total history of the earth, the memory of the greatest literature, the greatest art, the greatest lives will be buried in the inexorable decay of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Hitler and Martin Luther King, James Sewell and Francis of Assisi, Chairman Mao and Robert Kennedy, all will be obliterated in the unthinking void.
So, I am told, I must make the best of a bad job. Even though I have strong feelings of transcendence, a deep sense that I am more than just a blind whim of evolution, I must nevertheless forget such troubling questions, and concern myself with the real problems of trying to live responsibly in society. Even though my job involves studying man’s brain as a machine, like any other of nature’s machines, I must still believe that man has some special intrinsic worth which is greater than an animal’s worth, and while my emotions tell me that it may be true, I am not given any more objective reason for believing it.