Years and years ago, one of my cousins died, and I attended her funeral. The priest, an Episcopalian, spoke to the point that L was now in heaven, and happier than we could imagine, and not missing us at all; and that, by consequence, to feel sorrow at her death was a rejection of faith. And I thought, imagining (which I do not believe) that she had gone on to the "undiscovered country," it was as if a friend had gone to France, or Japan, intending to stay there; and I might be happy for them that they were attaining their dream, but still sad that I wouldn't see them again, or not for a long time, and grieved at parting from them; and I thought this particular priest had a regrettable lack of human sympathy.
Years and years ago, one of my cousins died, and I attended her funeral. The priest, an Episcopalian, spoke to the point that L was now in heaven, and happier than we could imagine, and not missing us at all; and that, by consequence, to feel sorrow at her death was a rejection of faith. And I thought, imagining (which I do not believe) that she had gone on to the "undiscovered country," it was as if a friend had gone to France, or Japan, intending to stay there; and I might be happy for them that they were attaining their dream, but still sad that I wouldn't see them again, or not for a long time, and grieved at parting from them; and I thought this particular priest had a regrettable lack of human sympathy.