by Bobcat
One of the first decisions people tend to make when thinking about their own death, or what to do when another dies, is whether the body should be buried or cremated. Often people feel very strongly one way or another. Hindus will always burn the body in sacred pyres, allowing the element of fire to move through the body's earth, before casting the ashes into the waters of a sacred river. Muslims and Jews consider burning to be an act of great disrepect, wanting the body to be buried ideally within 24 hours of death. Mainstream Christianity has changed somewhat over the past decades; the body used to be buried, for it would required 'whole' when the Messiah returned and they would ascend to heaven. That 'body' is now mostly believed to be the spiritual form, not the flesh and bones.
In Druidry we have the Hindu reverence for nature's elemental forces, but we have no traditional doctrine that guides us either way. Indeed, for most Druids, doctrine is anathema to their religious perspective. So what guides us in this difficult question: cremation or burial?
Cremation used to be the easy decision. Like many, when I was young I used to love the
idea of letting go my physical body into the magical hunger of fire, transforming
its essence into 'spirit', leaving little but the purity of ash behind, to blow in the wind and disappear. It felt unethical to take up space when
I was dead, albeit just the 4' x 9' of a grave; ashes scattered seemed a less demanding action than taking up a plot of land to rot in. But I've changed my mind ...
Some Druids are determined that cremation is the Druidic choice, however. And indeed, the history of cremation is interesting, especially for
those who walk these old and winding paths of the Druid tradition. Considered a barbaric and uncivilized act amidst the dignified Christian and Enlightenment imperialism of Victorian Britain, it was the
actions of a wild eccentric Welshman and Druid called William Price that set into motion
the process of cremation's acceptance. In 1884, at the fine age of 84, he lost his infant
son, a child he'd named Jesus Christ. Declaring it a Druidic act to burn the body, he prepared the pyre on a hilltop overlooking Llantrisant, but
the boy's tiny corpse was snatched from the flames and he himself was put
on trial.
In court, dressed in gloriously eccentric garb of red suede waistcoat, green
trousers, plaid cape and a fox pelt cap, he presented himself as Archdruid of Wales. Declaring
himself the reincarnation of a pre-Saxon Druidic priest, he claimed to live
only by the laws he understood of that tradition, including vegetarianism,
naked sunbathing and open marriage ... He won the case against him, the judge finding that cremation could not actually
be deemed unlawful. In 1893, two more children later, he himself died and
was cremated. In fact, with the cities of Victoria's industrial revolution increasingly crowded and polluted, the authorities quickly realized that cremation was a far more effective way to dispose of the dead than using up precious land for graves.
Over the last century, the option of cremation has taken
hold in popular consciousness. During the Second World War, the need to maximize land use for growing food added to the shift towards creamtion. Requiring a second opinion to confirm that
no funny business occured to cause death (the body as evidence being destroyed completely),
just over a hundred years later Britain now has one of the highest rates of
cremation in the world: it currently stands at around 70%. Availability
of space for burial, religious beliefs about fire and about life beyond death,
all affect the figures both here and in other countries. There is also a generally held belief that it is the cheaper option.
Cremation is still not allowed to Muslims and (Orthodox) Jews, considered
historically still to be the Pagan option. In countries where Christianity
is strong, especially Catholicism, cremations are less popular. In the USA,
around 20% of bodies are cremated; in southern Europe, the rate goes down
below 2%.
So, as a Druid, what made me change my mind and decide against cremation? I still love
the idea of the transformative power of fire, my ashes hurled into the wind
to settle gently and unobtrusively upon the earth. There is a tempting sense of quick annihilation in that image which can't quite be put aside. As an animist and realist, I have no sense that I
might need this body complete for some ascension to an otherworldly heaven. But there are issues that worry me.
Pollution is a big one. The amount of pollution generated by the crematoria's incinerators is
a real concern. Mercury from dental fillings in the average crematorium
gives off an estimated 11 kg of mercury annually. The chemicals and plastics
in artifical joints and implants, in the clothes burned, in the formaldehyde used in preserving the
body, hydrogen chloride, carbon dioxide, all add to the pollution. 12% of atmospheric dioxin from burning comes from crematoria in the UK, according
to the DTI. The government, aware of the problem, has since 1990 been placing tighter and tighter regulations on crematoria emissions, which is pushing up the cost of cremation year by year.
I may choose to be cremated in a way that minimizes the pollution in terms of wearing natural cloth, having my fillings removed, and going into the fire in the simplest wooden box, but the amount of energy that is used to burn one body is another major issue. As a Druid living in the West, I am hyperaware of how much energy I use in my every day life. Most cremators in Britain now use gas which is, of course, a fossil fuel, and the quantity is not inconsiderable in order
to reach the intense temperatures required by law for the
burning of human remains. Indeed, in one day, a crematorium uses the same amount of fossil fuel as the average family does in a year. To be complicit in that, when I die, seems to me entirely unnecessary and hypocritical.
Coffins are something else to think about. All coffins are
burned, though some now have 'inner boxes', the outer shell being removed to be resold by the funeral director. The coffins burning only adds to the pollution, from glues, metal
hinges, metal and plastic decoration, and manmade fabric liners. There are some wonderful environmentally friendly coffins now on the market, made in willow wicker, bamboo, cardboard or even papier maché, but the majority of coffins sold are MDF, reconstituted wood bound together with plastic glues, veneered in wood and varnish. Some crematorium will not accept card, home-made
coffins or shrouds, being awkward about the idea of anything other than the
norm.
As a Druid, there are some religious issues for me too, here in the twenty first century. Even if we set aside the pollution and energy cost of cremation, it still feels like taking a fast track. I would rather walk or ride at the speed of a horse and cart, than speed at 60 or 80 miles per hour, or faster in a train or aeroplane: for when we travel fast we lose touch with the landscape we are travelling through. We lose our connection. Burning my body seems to me to be travelling too fast: I lose my connection. The songs and memories of my life may remain within my tribe, but as an animist I feel those songs in every cell of my being. I want to be returned to the land, back into the carbon cycle, fully into the water cycle. I want to melt into the mud of this my home. That feels to me now to be a natural process which in many ways i long for - a true return home.
As a Druid then, I feel myself on a mission to dissuade folk from using crematation! But ... if you do decide to be cremated, I encourage you to ensure that there is as little as possible
in the coffin that will add to the atmospheric pollution. This means no plastics
and other manmade fibres, no rubber and metals. This, of course, includes
the coffin itself, the clothes and shoes you are wearing, and any sentimental or magical items that will
be burned with your body.
Burial can then be seen as a more environmentally ethical
option. It does to me. In big cities, the graveyards are havens of wildlife;
natural burial grounds are coming into being all over the country, creating
forests and serene parklands that themselves are temples to the beauty of
life, the power of death, and the magic of rebirth and regeneration. When I am buried, my
body becomes an offering to future generations, adding a little fertility
to the earth. Even the wood or wicker of the coffin becomes food in the
glorious cycle of being within natural ecology.
There's also that little quirk of imagining one's grave being investigated
in millennia to come, by some future archaeologist, and wondering what he'd
make of the sacred blade, the cauldron, the awen broach entombed with my
bones ...
