The word humanity ??" humanitas in Latin ??" apparently derives from the word humando, burying. To be human is to be a creature that buries its dead.

Burial might achieve many things. It might be an attempt to humanise death by dealing with the dead in a ritual way. When the coffin is lowered in the ground the words ‘earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ are spoken: it’s an enactment of origins and ends, the completion of a life. The Hebrew for Adam, adamah, is a pun on the word for soil, so burial might be an ancient remembrance of creation, the gift of being alive.

Maybe too the word carries a memory of an old kind of human consciousness, when the experience of being alive was different. To be buried is to become earth, and the modern mind tends to think of this as a blunt statement of fact: with death, we become food for worms, no longer an animated body. That understanding of burial emphases humanity’s difference from nature, if a difference that is strictly time-bound.

But maybe the pre-modern consciousness was not of difference but of participation, as Owen Barfield puts it: nature thought of as humanity’s garment rather than its stage. To bury, then, was to enact such participation. It was not an act of shock, to help mourners realise what had come to pass. It was an act of comfort ??" for ‘dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return’. For humans, to be buried is to be finally at home.