<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[The Dish]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[http://dish.andrewsullivan.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[Andrew Sullivan]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://dish.andrewsullivan.com/author/sullydish/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[The Soul, Ctd]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[A reader writes: &quot;When a minister tells parents at their son&#39;s funeral that they will see their son again, and his soul is in a better place, I cannot dismiss it or heap scorn on it. If we professors hear this language as a description of reality, then we&#39;re bound to be irritated by the issue of truant evidence and the lack of warrant. But if we hear it as emotive hope, then our objections fall away.&quot; </p></blockquote><p>First, no one in their right minds thinks that it would be appropriate to &quot;heap scorn&quot; upon parents who find themselves comforted by this kind of soul talk. But Asma claims that talk of a soul in this sort of context isn&#39;t meant descriptively and therefore not subject to the usual standards of evidence. I don&#39;t see that. It seems to me that the priest means to comfort the parents by <em>presenting</em> a picture of reality for which there is no evidence. If he&#39;d said &quot;I hope you&#39;ll see your son again&quot; that wouldn&#39;t have comforted the parents unless they themselves believed that reality works a certain way and that their loss is merely a temporary separation. ]]></html></oembed>