Educators or Grave Robbers?

Today was the first day when everyone's gotten to see each other and talk about our trips. It's been fun to hear of everyone else's experiences. Some of us went to Prague, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin, Munich, and Dublin, and the interests of my fellow students stretch from shopping to the art in the Van Gogh Museum to the cliffs of Ireland. Like everyone else, I too told the story of my travels.

This morning I was early for breakfast and happened to be sitting at the table when Dr. Rust, our program coordinator, came down. It was just he and I for a while so we sat and chatted about London while we were waiting for breakfast to start. Somehow we ended up talking about the British Museum and an off hand remark made by Dr. Rust reminded me of a realization I had while in the museum that I'd forgotten of until now. I've pondered the question for the rest of the day.


I've loved Ancient Egypt ever since Mr. Hugh's 7th grade World History class. In fact, for a time I thought I actually wanted to be an Egyptologist, so needless to say the exhibits in the British Museum were fascinating. I've never gotten to see real "live" mummies before! However, about halfway through the exhibit I was struck with an odd feeling.

I was standing at an exhibit case containing a wooden "coffin" (not the technical term, but I'm not sure what else to call it) that sat empty with it's lid shifted to one side. Next to the coffin lay a mummy perfectly wrapped. They even had the CT imaging that they performed showing the skeleton inside the mummy. Pretty cool, huh? I thought so, too, but it was something about that empty box with it's content laying to the side that made this mummy different from the others. This mummy was a man whose family had taken care of him, preserved him so that he'd be well off in the next life. They had him wrapped and placed in a wooden box- a box that was never suppose to be opened in the first place. When you think about it, that's what the Egyptian portion of the British Museum is, cases of people who died long ago put on display to feed a, let's face it, morbid curiosity.

Before I left Baylor, my friends and I watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants II. Now, I am not saying that this is the movie is by any means deep or philosophical. However, there was an interesting question posed to one of the characters that I think applies here. "At what point does someone's death stop being sad?" or, if I were to reword the question, "how many years must past after someone's death before it becomes ok to dig up the sarcophagus, pry it open, remove the body, send it through a CT machine, and then put it on display for all the world to see?" It's really sort of horrifying if you think about it.

I'm not trying to make a point by saying this is right or wrong. As with many an ethical question there are two sides to the story. I can't deny the wealth of knowledge that these mummies have given us that we wouldn't know otherwise, perhaps the same knowledge that sparks a fascination and love for the culture in others the way it has me. This love, in turn, supports the preservation of the culture. I also can't deny the fact that if I had arrived that the museum to find out that no mummies were on display I would have been devastated (this was my reason for going to the museum in the first place).

In modernity, men achieve immortality through their great actions: good or bad. No one will forget who Abraham Lincoln was, and the story of Hitler's rise to power will not fade with time. Even Galileo and Elizabeth I will not be forgotten from the history books. Perhaps it is for the ancient man to enjoy immortality through the displaying of his body after his death. There is only one question left to be asked: "did this Egyptian man want immortality?" An Egyptian tomb was arranged so that the individual had everything he needed with him in the afterlife, his organs, his wealth, even his cat, and his success in this afterlife depended on these things remaining undisturbed. This is part of the horror of the grave robbers of the ancient world. So, even if we don't share the beliefs of the man in the box, the owner of the cat and the jewels, has our actions respected him?

What do you think?