Thoughts In Passing
On the 18th of November 2024 John Joseph Ray passed on to begin his long rest. After a private Presbyterian service he was laid to rest in Mt Gravatt Cemetary on 20th of December, where he lies facing the morning sun, just in case those who are more spiritual happen to be correct.
It might seem strange on first glance that a converted and avowed atheist would seek to uphold these burial traditions. However to understand my father's ideas you have to first appreciate his sentimentality. The truth, as he would point out, is that Christendom and its funny ideas permeated through most of western civilisation and all of its matters. It is in our laws, our philosophy, our weekly rituals and our annual celebrations. From the first Holy Roman Emperor to win a war with a cross to the first grand international conflict of 1096, surviving science, the enlightenment thinkers and being reimagined over and over through the fervor of the Americans, Europeans, Slavs, Africans and Brazilians. Somehow Christianity spreads even though one would think that the imagery of martyrs burning at stakes and being beheaded all throughout history would weaken it. All of this history and struggle just for a young John Ray to learn of Christ in a small wooden building in far north Queensland, a mere few years after the war that defined history.
Given, then, that my father was not just an atheist but a western atheist it is natural that he would want to be buried while clothed in the traditions of his people. Christianity and the western world are more-or-less inseparable historically. For all of our wars, our faults and our disputes on how to make a good society, and which king should rule, the cross has loomed over us since the fated date of 32AD.
Curiosity is natural. How does an atheist face the long night with no promise of salvation that he believes in? I was with him for almost every moment after his last blog post. So I can relate the things that I think that were not private matters. He did not resign easily to the pain, seeking medicine that would alleviate his symptoms and allow him to walk out of the hospital once more. Without pain, he would be triumphantly writing this blog post instead of sleeping. Alas, this is not the case. The ailment that weakened his system to the point of death was his old foe, cancer. In the end, as it will happen to all of us, his body deteriorated, unable to keep his brain alive any longer.
He was thrilled to leave the world in the hands of Donald Trump. An avowed supporter, he believed that the American society had been sick for a long time, and that Mr. Trump presented a patriotic cure for their ailments. He believed that conservative politics of kinship and tradition would safeguard Australia, the commonwealth, Israel and Europe against the countries that generally stand opposed to them in the forms of terror, political extremism and anti-western hatred. He predicted a long trade partnership with China, our wealthy neighbours and continued prosperity under the custodianship of the LNP and Labor.
Outside of politics he mostly thought of his family. Myself, my mother, his long-time companion Anne and Zoe. He thought of his step-children Yvonne, Susan, Paul, Tim and David and their families. He was visited by his brother Chris and his friend John. All of these moments he cherished as small blessings at the end of his life. He was visited in a dream by his mother, which he found most vexatious. I read every text message to him which he appreciated. In his last moments of clarity I gave him a hug and told him I loved him.
His last words to me were "Never lie to women," which seems like good advice, and it's not the first time he's told me that.
Unfortunately when one is dying, there is little time for anything other than what I have already reported. The small gift of life we are given is taken away too quickly, and while it is experienced in high fidelity, it is remembered with little clarity but much fondness. Many men have come and gone as my father did. Many men will continue to rise and fall to take up the swords of conservatism, western tradition and libertarian thinking.
Suffice it to say that my father lived a long, appreciative life. A life of freedom and opportunity, only possible in the unique period of time that we find ourselves. Born on an island-continent in what is reasonably described as a warm, green paradise. Able to lead a life of academics and education in the city. Able to freely express and explore his concerns on faith or lack thereof. Experiencing the wonders of flight, the internet and modern medicine. Connecting his ideas globally and becoming one of the best read academics of his age in Social Psychology. At the same time, he was quintessentially an Australian man, and enjoyed nothing more than a pie eaten in the Australian way.
For all his faults, of which I have spoken very little, and our disagreements, I hope that I have communicated what I thought of my father, and how I'll remember our time together.
