Our lives come from Allah, and are taken from Allah.

I recently attended an Islamic funeral. I felt like I walked into another world, and ended up a little better for it.

I am very inexperienced at dealing with death. I have only attended two funerals, and only one of those was someone in my family. They were both open casket, so technically I have seen two dead bodies in my life. Although I was sad at these funerals, I never felt like the bodies lying in their fancy coffins were real. When it was my own grandfather I didn't even go say goodbye to his body, because I didn't feel like the body lying in the coffin was his. It was stiff, filled with chemicals, and dressed up like a doll. He looked like wax, and was simply a prop in a "ceremony" for the living.

I have always thought of myself as a very logical person. The thought of a God up in the heavens looking over all of us with a plan makes me crazy. It doesn't make any sense to me. God makes us immortal, and that is why I believe people need him. He only feeds the "ego" that most religions say they are trying to filter out of us. People are capable of living perfectly moral lives without God or his words.

In the wake of studying mysticism and Confucius in my World Religions class, my husband’s grandfather got very sick. I have never watched someone die from cancer. They simply waste away until they are no longer. The cancer runs ramp id and takes all control from the person affected by it. Even though I did not know him very well, it deeply saddened me to see someone in this state. It makes me tear up just writing this. It is so sad, not because he didn't live a full life, but because no matter what life one has there are always memories, regrets, and a desperate need for more time at the end. We don't get more time though. It is the end.

It was the end for Kamel. We arrived about 5 minutes after he had passed. Like I mentioned before, I have never seen a naturally dead body. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. A man who had been in so much pain, and had been fighting his end so fiercely was finally calmed by death. He didn't look empty, as the bodies at the funerals I had attended. There was so much life left. He was calm, serene, and expressed a sense of understanding that was lacking in his face before. It was hard for me to look at him for too long, as I kept thinking I saw his chest moving, like he was breathing.

The living doesn’t understand death. Your brain plays tricks on you, and logic goes out the window. Perhaps he really was at peace or I projected my own hopes for him on his face. I really don't have an answer for you, but it made me realize that my logical thoughts about death were quickly challenged when I was confronted with it. I went outside, and I prayed for him and his family. I don't believe in God, so I don't know what came over me, but I had to do something. It was something for my brain to do. Wouldn't it be easier to deal with it, if I knew he was in heaven at peace with the wife that he missed so dearly? The thought calmed me, and the warmth from the sun outside seemed like a gift. The sun was out before he died, but after his death it felt different. Probably because I wasn't forced to feel it. I finally went back inside a little frustrated that because I had no religion I didn't have an answer for myself, and there weren't actions set out for me.

Kamel was Muslim, and because of this, there were rules laid out for us. There were rules about how to treat and bury his body, as well as how his loved ones should respond to his death. I felt like it was a much-needed gift for all of us.

His body was not to be messed with. He was washed by the Imam, and wrapped in a shroud.

On our way to the Islamic graveyard we passed a catholic graveyard. The grass was perfectly green, and cut. There were extravagant statues, graves, and exotic arrangements of flowers. It was beautiful, but again, somehow lifeless. When we arrived at the Islamic graveyard it was very empty in comparison. The grass wasn’t perfectly cut, and its color lacked the vividness of the catholic graveyard. There weren't bright flower arrangements everywhere. It was still, but not stiff. There are grave markers, but they all the same: plain.

The women were not allowed by the gravesite, because it was the man's duty to bury the body. Honestly it was a bit of a relief. I didn't know the prayers they had to recite, and I didn't know if I could handle seeing more bodies. There were three burials taking place at the same time.

We sat uncomfortably in the car as all the men arrived from the family of the deceased and the mosque. They were dressed either in native dress or very plain clothes. This is something I am quite embarrassed about, because while looking for something to wear to the funeral I realized my wardrobe is a bit extravagant. I had to go buy something plain to wear, and in the end I still dressed in clothes that I felt made me look pretty. I am embarrassed because it wasn't a time to dress up in the most fancy dress or suit one owns. No one was trying to draw attention to themselves. Unlike the funerals I have previously attended, this funeral wasn't for the living. It was a ceremony done to get the deceased into heaven. It wasn't to celebrate their life, and it wasn't to mourn their death. Our lives come from Allah, and are taken from Allah. It is one and the same, and a burial is simply done for its own sake.

The baby wrapped in a tiny cloth to the old men who had been blessed with a full life was one and the same to the Imams. When we expressed our sadness for the baby, we were responded to with indifference. "It is Allah's will." It may seem a bit harsh, but it was calming. My initial reaction to the man carrying the little bundle of cloth to the gravesite was of uncontrollable tears, and a little bit of anger. How is it Allah's will to take the life of a child? I quickly realized that was coming from my own attachment to this world, and my own fears about death. I was worried about the mother, because if I ever lost a child of mine I would be devastated. It was easier to deal with, if I emulated their attitude about it.

After the prayers we were able to get out of the car and watch the burial from afar. It was unorganized, but very organic. The men all crowded around the holes dug in the ground with shovels, as about 5 men clumsily carried the 3 boxes to the site. There was a lot of bustling and chattering, followed by silence for yet again more prayer, and then the shoveling of dirt over the boxes in the ground. All the men took turns shoveling. It was brothers helping brothers to get the job done. They were all equal including the three that were in the ground. It made sense, and it was wonderful to watch.

After the bodies were buried, everyone dispersed from the gravesite. A group of men who had just a moment ago been so intimately working were now separated by language, and religious sects. It was a beautiful display of the nature of humanity. We are all capable of coming together, but it is simply more comfortable to separate ourselves. It all ended with the exchange of money for the burial services. Each family had to sign papers and write a check.

I will admit that I had many preconceptions about Islam. It seemed like a formal, lifeless religion to me. I felt like it was constricting to the human spirit. After experiencing their views and ceremonies around death my opinion has changed. We all are the same, and even though I don't believe we come from Allah, we all come from the same place, and leave the same way. That is something I believed before, and this experience only strengthened. Death should not be fussed over, or made to be a sickly display of status and wealth. It should be a time when people come together as people and deal with it in a way that makes sense for everyone. For me the Islamic funeral was just that. It made sense, for the deceased and the living. This particular display of religion was not constricting, or for the weak minded. It takes strength to believe and behave the way they did. In fact it is admirable, and something whether one is religious or a philosopher should be strived for. The philosopher and the mystic would agree that ceremonies like these are needed. Whether we believe the dead are going to heaven, or they are going back to the earth, they are gone. It doesn't change the pain caused by death. We come up with ceremonies to deal with difficult situations, because it’s the only thing we can do. Religion is a display of the best and worst in us, but in this situation it was of the best.

I just don't think my brain is set up to believe in God, but this experience has put a place for him when it comes to thinking about people logically. Believing in him brings logic and purpose to some. Certainly Religion gives us ceremonies that we all can benefit from, because we all need a little guidance sometimes. After all we are all simply human.