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upupa_epops is doing a Free-For-All Meta Comment-A-Thon at their LJ, and there were a couple of interesting prompts. So ... random meta on the portrayal of Death in Discworld?Death in an Agnostic Universe
Just a driveby comment, but the one line from Discworld's Death that always struck me was:
"Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?"
Discworld presents a very atheistic/agnostic view of life, death and the afterlife, of religion. There are gods, but the gods can die. There is faith, but faith can make gods, faith can create what is believed in rather than following in its footsteps. There are afterlives, but what afterlife you get seems to depend on the person in question, and we don't really see them for sure, only the point at which people are invited to walk forward and discover them. On the Disc, there are no certainties, either in life or after it.
Except one. One certainty, poised between two uncertainties. One sure thing, in a world full of questions in all directions. We don't get gods, we don't get answers, but we do, always, get Death.
The portrayal of Death in Discworld is very odd because it doesn't ... it doesn't present answers, it doesn't come from a place of religious faith or even supernatural faith. The faith provided by Discworld's Death is ... a faith in humanity? A faith in an intrinsic sense of caring in the universe.
Because Death is the one sure thing in the universe. And Death cares. Death is sarcastic and grumpy and has difficulty with the finer points of philosophy and emotions and the way living beings react to things, but despite all of that he cares. Death is portrayed as someone who is there for all people, great and small, someone who loves them, who yearns for them, who loved one of them personally, who had a child among them, who fought for them against the forces of non-existence, who struggles to understand them but never stops trying. Someone who's entire existence is to bring people into death, but when given the opportunity and a release from his duties chose to give a child the gift of life. Someone who stood before the great Death at the end of all things, and stated that the greatest duty of the reaper is to care for those he reaps.
"Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?"
On the Disc, there are no easy answers to be found in cosmology, there are no wizards waiting behind the curtains to give us the answers (well, there are, but you're not necessarily advised to trust them). Even Death himself has questions, even Death himself is unsure. Death is the only certainty there is, and even he has his troubles understanding what goes on around him.
The only thing that Discworld tells you is certain is that you will die. But it also ... it tells you that death is not something to be feared. Life is worth fighting for, always, but death itself isn't fearsome or terrible. Death ... loves you. Death would stand before all the powers of the universe, and tell them that his duty, the purpose of his being, is to care for those who fall beneath his scythe. His duty is to fight for them, for as long as possible, and be gentle with them when they pass. He owes us his care, because he is all there is that we can be sure of. ("There is no justice. There is just us.")
It's an odd presentation of death, in many ways. An oddly accepting presentation of death: that death is the one thing you can know will happen, but at the same time death is nothing to fear. Not because of what happens after it, but because death itself is not unkind. That whether or not there are gods or an afterlife, whether there will be someone left behind to remember you or someone ahead to welcome you, at the moment of death there will still be someone who acknowledges you. Death cares, because what else could he do, when he is all we can hope for?
Which, in a way, makes Love the other certainty, or at least Compassion. We are the Harvest, but we have the care of the Reaper Man.
It's a very ... a very agnostic presentation, but simultaneously a very hopeful one. That we will have value at the end, not because of any system of judgements from some higher power, but just by the fact that we lived and then we died, and there was someone there who knew it. Someone there who cared.
Ah. Discworld's Death tend to get to me, yes? Heh.
Just a driveby comment, but the one line from Discworld's Death that always struck me was:
"Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?"
Discworld presents a very atheistic/agnostic view of life, death and the afterlife, of religion. There are gods, but the gods can die. There is faith, but faith can make gods, faith can create what is believed in rather than following in its footsteps. There are afterlives, but what afterlife you get seems to depend on the person in question, and we don't really see them for sure, only the point at which people are invited to walk forward and discover them. On the Disc, there are no certainties, either in life or after it.
Except one. One certainty, poised between two uncertainties. One sure thing, in a world full of questions in all directions. We don't get gods, we don't get answers, but we do, always, get Death.
The portrayal of Death in Discworld is very odd because it doesn't ... it doesn't present answers, it doesn't come from a place of religious faith or even supernatural faith. The faith provided by Discworld's Death is ... a faith in humanity? A faith in an intrinsic sense of caring in the universe.
Because Death is the one sure thing in the universe. And Death cares. Death is sarcastic and grumpy and has difficulty with the finer points of philosophy and emotions and the way living beings react to things, but despite all of that he cares. Death is portrayed as someone who is there for all people, great and small, someone who loves them, who yearns for them, who loved one of them personally, who had a child among them, who fought for them against the forces of non-existence, who struggles to understand them but never stops trying. Someone who's entire existence is to bring people into death, but when given the opportunity and a release from his duties chose to give a child the gift of life. Someone who stood before the great Death at the end of all things, and stated that the greatest duty of the reaper is to care for those he reaps.
"Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?"
On the Disc, there are no easy answers to be found in cosmology, there are no wizards waiting behind the curtains to give us the answers (well, there are, but you're not necessarily advised to trust them). Even Death himself has questions, even Death himself is unsure. Death is the only certainty there is, and even he has his troubles understanding what goes on around him.
The only thing that Discworld tells you is certain is that you will die. But it also ... it tells you that death is not something to be feared. Life is worth fighting for, always, but death itself isn't fearsome or terrible. Death ... loves you. Death would stand before all the powers of the universe, and tell them that his duty, the purpose of his being, is to care for those who fall beneath his scythe. His duty is to fight for them, for as long as possible, and be gentle with them when they pass. He owes us his care, because he is all there is that we can be sure of. ("There is no justice. There is just us.")
It's an odd presentation of death, in many ways. An oddly accepting presentation of death: that death is the one thing you can know will happen, but at the same time death is nothing to fear. Not because of what happens after it, but because death itself is not unkind. That whether or not there are gods or an afterlife, whether there will be someone left behind to remember you or someone ahead to welcome you, at the moment of death there will still be someone who acknowledges you. Death cares, because what else could he do, when he is all we can hope for?
Which, in a way, makes Love the other certainty, or at least Compassion. We are the Harvest, but we have the care of the Reaper Man.
It's a very ... a very agnostic presentation, but simultaneously a very hopeful one. That we will have value at the end, not because of any system of judgements from some higher power, but just by the fact that we lived and then we died, and there was someone there who knew it. Someone there who cared.
Ah. Discworld's Death tend to get to me, yes? Heh.
