We see this in some cultures. Classic folks songs from the antebellum United States (e.g. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot or Wayfaring Stranger ) welcome death with the promise of salvation or afterlife. And there are plenty of worship songs and hymns that praise the afterlife and the end of the world, as if these are good things to look forward to.
Part of this is because of the hierarchical system of middle ages feudalism. Death was always near anyway. Winter always had a body count. Child mortality was terrible (and it was always a happy thing when someone made majority at ~15, even if they were an idiot, antisocial or a bastard.) A bad run of harsh winters and poor crop yields — even a couple of sucky years — could spell famine for the entire region. There was always a labor shortage. Life for common folk was brief anyway, so there was seldom a need to hurry their way to heaven.
As for suicides, yes, there are proscriptions against needless suicide, but this doesn’t stop countless miserables from taking on a heroic task, that is, one in which they can die easily. Revolutionaries and suicide bombers emerge from this ilk. From the Troubles and the War on Terror, we learned that our terrorists were radicalized by circumstances in their life, and imams and priests would just point them in the direction where they could get arms or bombs and a target. When you have nothing to live for, it gets easy to look to divine wind opportunities, and consider ways to make a horrific mess, and news that bleeds.
In modern Christianity in the US, ministries look to fuel doubt in one’s own salvation. Jesus saves, but only if you’re in his in group, and He doesn’t select everyone (according to many preachers). I’ve noted this defeats the purpose, since the narrative is everyone sins, but only Jesus can forgive and making it sound like its a rare lottery ticket makes God sound more like an eldritch horror than a loving personal deity. During the protestant reformation, this was one of the reasons for the traditions Sola Fides (salvation by faith alone) and Sola Scriptura (guidance by scripture alone), so the individual parishioner doesn’t need a minister to guide them, but their salvation depends solely on their own relationship with God and scripture. In that regard, it’s possible to assume God is just and merciful and provides salvation for everyone. After all, God allegedly knows the circumstances of your life, and put you there.
But then it’s also common to imagine that we personally, and our local kin, are going to heaven and everyone we don’t like (e.g. Hitler) is burning in Hell for eternity, though that is just a failure of empathy, of recognizing that even the worst of us do not choose cruelty, suspicion and deception, rather were shaped to do so by the elements and society around us.
The good news is even the pope admits Only God knows the nature of the afterlife, how people are sorted. So we can assume He is reasonable and takes into account our circumstances, or He is an arbitrary monster, in which case our best behavior doesn’t matter. The natural world informs the latter, so we’re safer with the likelihood of oblivion ( All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain ) than an afterlife in which we are once again slaves to a parasitic system.
And speaking of us naturalists, how we define our lives and identity informs how we see mortality. An afterlife has an intersection with the transporter paradox (when Captain Kirk beams down, is it Kirk or Memorex? – that should date me.) In reality, while we don’t have breaks in consciousness by space, we have breaks in consciousness by time, hence the robots in Freefall are nervous about updates and reboots, and we may not be the same person when we wake up from a good night’s sleep (rather another iteration of ourselves, with all our bits and memories and thoughts.) End-of-life studies show that a lot of people on their death bed have more frequent, more prolonged periods of unconsciousness until one day they don’t wake up. So if we don’t exist after death, we may not exist under general anesthetic or during non-REM sleep.
(When you live, your thoughts, feelings, memories, sensations are all driven by your brain and nervous system. So when you die, if an afterlife continues your existence, it’s done by another medium, maybe a spirit-brain or magic brain or something that allows you to continue to think, perceive and exist. Otherwise, your soul could be in the center of the sun at 15 million Kelvins, and not even notice. So, assuming that Heaven and Hell exist, your physical brain won’t experience it, but some other version of you will, much like the simulation of you in Roko’s Basilisk.)
Others define our identities by any iteration of ourselves, which allows us to wake up and be the same person who went to bed. This can get interesting now that Deep South, a computer that can run computations nearly equivalent to a human brain, has been developed as proof-of-concept. Surely, our billionaires are wondering now to create a simulation of themselves, run by a Deep South system, and give it power of attorney over their estate upon the conclusion of their human life.
But that brings us to phase two of the transporter paradox, when a mishap creates a second Riker. The technician is saying hold on for a minute, we’ll get that dematerialized in a moment, but Riker-who-didn’t-leave is literally begging for his life. Who is the true Riker, and why isn’t it the other one?
And before you answer that question, Holodeck simulation Riker wants to raise a critical point about civil rights.
I’ve been reading Heaven’s River, the third fourth part of the Bobiverse series (which teems with replications of computer-simulation Bob, id est Robert Johansson) which discusses questions regarding replication drift (all the Bobs personalities diverge upon activation), and it does raise a specific illusion: Even as we live and age, we change and deviate from who we are at any previous given moment. Some of this is due to experience, other is due to age and development. So even if we could attain medical immortality, or run as a computer simulation on a robust machine with a perpetual service contract, we’d still drift away from our identity as defined in any given instant of time.
(Incidentally, the same thing can be said about any given religion and any given culture. They change continuously, and all efforts to preserve a given identity will prove futile as time pushes up mountains and the oceans erode them away again.)
So yeah. Memento Mori. Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.