Cremation

A little while before my Dad died I was at his house and he said to me, "Matt, I've been thinking about cremation. What do you think of that." What I wanted to do say was "Abraham buried Sarah. Joseph was carried back to Canaan and was buried. Elisha was buried. Jesus was buried. All the early Christians were buried. The only ones that were cremated were those burned alive by the Romans." Admittedly my theology was not very sophisticated. It was simply following the example of Jesus and his saints. But all I managed to say, because I knew my Dad was trying to make a horrible decision and I was so pained by the thought of death was, "It isn't something I would do."
He said, "Okay. Thank you, Matt. I've been thinking about it." A few weeks later he asked me to find a burial plot for him. (I wasn't able to complete this task, because my Dad's health was failing fast and he wanted to see the place before we bought it. He never felt well enough to go out and look at the places I found. My brother Ken, after my Dad died is the one who found some ground for him.

Since then I've thought about burial and cremation a lot. And my opposition to it has solidified. Interestingly, this Newsweek article does a really good job of showing, what for me, is the core reason Christians ought to be buried instead of cremated. The whole article is rather long and is about much more than burial practices, but here is the relevant part:

Then there's the question of what happens when you die. Christians traditionally believe that bodies and souls are sacred, that together they comprise the "self," and that at the end of time they will be reunited in the Resurrection. You need both, in other words, and you need them forever. Hindus believe no such thing. At death, the body burns on a pyre, while the spirit—where identity resides—escapes. In reincarnation, central to Hinduism, selves come back to earth again and again in different bodies. So here is another way in which Americans are becoming more Hindu: 24 percent of Americans say they believe in reincarnation, according to a 2008 Harris poll. So agnostic are we about the ultimate fates of our bodies that we're burning them—like Hindus—after death. More than a third of Americans now choose cremation, according to the Cremation Association of North America, up from 6 percent in 1975. "I do think the more spiritual role of religion tends to deemphasize some of the more starkly literal interpretations of the Resurrection," agrees Diana Eck, professor of comparative religion at Harvard. So let us all say "om."

In his little essay, Why Orthodox Christians are not Cremated, Fr. Peter Orfanakos writes...

"When we are baptized it is not only the soul which becomes the temple of the Holy Spirit, but also the Body. When we receive Holy Communion, we take the real Body and Blood of Christ into our bodies. In the mysteries of Chrismation and Holy Unction it is our bodies which are anointed with Holy Chrism."

"The Church has unequivocally taught since Christ’s Crucifixion that the proper way to treat the dead is a reverent burial of the body in the context of a proper Church funeral and prayers for those who have fallen asleep in the Lord. We sing hymns and psalms to escort the dead on their way and to express gratitude to God for their life and death. We wrap the body in a new shroud, symbolizing the new dress of incoruption the person is destined to receive. We pour myrrh and oil on the body as we do at baptism. We accompany this with incense and candles, showing our belief that the person has been liberated from darkness and is going to the true Light. We place the body in the grave towards the east, denoting the Resurrection to come."

Fr. Andrew describes a funeral in a small village in Carpatho-Russia...

"The sunshine is penetrating through the morning mist. The priest preaches in Rusin: ‘The departed is going to where all pious people go, to Christ and His Holy Mother and the saints. The people cross themselves and a hundred voices are raised to sing ‘Eternal Memory’. The service is finished. The lid is placed on the coffin. A son weeps, a daughter sobs. The hand-bier, on which the coffin is placed, is pushed up the village street towards the onion-domed church. We stop on the way for Gospel readings on the Resurrection. Two cars stop, for the road is blocked by the village funeral procession. At the church, the last panikhida is sung and then we make our way to the other end of the village - to the cemetery.
A stream babbles as it rushes down from the hills. A farm dog barks.
The cross and banners lead the way, as at Easter. For the funeral of every true believer is also a Paschal feast. There the last hymns are sung. As the coffin is lowered into the grave, a woman sobs uncontrollably. It will take time for her to heal. Yes, she has deep faith, like all these people. But to recover from the sorrow of death, it takes not only faith, but also time. The greater the faith, the less the time needed. The weaker the faith, the more the time needed.
A stream babbles as it rushes down from the hills. A farm dog barks.
Clods of earth drop onto the coffin. I make the sign of the cross over it.
To the servant of God Ekaterina, Vichnaya Pamyat!"

I wish I knew were I was going to be living for the rest of my mortal life. If I did, I'd buy some ground so that when Athanasia and I die the Church could bury us there. The Cross and the Icons would lead the procession, like at Pascha. I'd like it to be on the east side of a hill so we will see our Savior straight away. Cremation? No. Not for me. I'm planning on getting up again.